One Too Many Mornings

I’ve been having intense dreams lately, and frustratingly, they are only mists floating out of my reach as I go to journal them. I think there is a lot going on deep within, and I need to get this stuff down. Perhaps I’ll start using auto-suggestion in earnest again to wake up early so I can catch them. I did some scrying last night, and though I didn’t hear (or see) anything at the time, I think some messages came to me in my sleep. I kick myself for not wrangling the dream into my solid consciousness! Ah well…maybe I’ll try again tonight.

I’m feeling less intimidated right now by everything. It’s funny how my fear creeps into the still of the night, though. I’ll wake up to pee, and I’ll think, “What, am I fucking crazy inviting this stuff into my life?”, but as the light of day approaches, I have this intense excitement and knowledge about it being perfectly right. It’s weird, and I’m sure in some way wrapped up with my sometimes crippling fear of the dark. My fear of the dark has long been interesting to me. When I was a kid, I believed that there were these certain Sesame Street monsters that lived under my bed, so I suppose that may have been the start of it. I’m sure my parents fights were linked to this fear, as well. And because I was left at home alone a lot, I developed a very intense fear of storms because it seemed that for every storm, I was at home alone. But then as a teen, I grew so fond of the night that I never wanted to sleep. I’d stay up all night, stay out all night, run around the city soaking in the moon and the wild neon vibrations. In doing so, however, one encounters the hauntings of the night as well, especially street life. There are monsters out there, active and very much real.

Oh, and I suppose the ghost living at my dad’s didn’t help either! She was, for many years, a succubus and could choke people in the physical realm. She never did this to me, however, only adult female guests and my dad’s wives. But she would stalk the hallway when my sister and I slept, almost like a guardian, but I would see and feel her. And yikes, she was scary, and very angry. But, she’s settled down now that my dad’s current wife finally squared off with her, and told her she’s got to just deal with the fact that she lives there. My stepmom also enlisted her help when she redecorated, and that seems to have pleased the spirit. She’s still not shy to make herself known in less dramatic ways: she plays with the lights, and sighs loudly when she’s exasperated or lightly when pleased. I have not seen her since I was wee, but that’s fine with me. Her story makes me sad, and I respect her space and right to her realm. I make sure to thank her for stuff, like when we’ll try to turn on the lights to go upstairs, and they don’t work so I’ll ask her to turn them on, and BING! they come on. Kinda cool 🙂 I hope she’s found some solace, and maybe when she’s ready she’ll find her way into the next realm.

At any rate, there are other reasons for my fears of the dark, but we’ll leave that out for tonight. Suffice to say that it’s something I’ve worked very hard to overcome. PTSD seriously exacerbated this fear, but in my treatment and dealing with PTSD, I dealt pretty effectively at coming to terms with the darkness again. It’s usually as I’m floating within the tail of a dream that I get spooked. So I’m trying to manage that since it’s very much a part of my path: facing the dark chaos within. The Dark Mother speaks to me, though I do not yet know her name.


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