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Monthly Archives: June 2014

When You Can’t Seem to Forget…

I was talking to a good friend of mine who mentioned a past event and how sometimes, it’s difficult to forget it. We can always let go of things, but often, we can’t forget what happened and we bring it up in our lives again and again with some pace of time in between it. Is true peace learning to let go and forget?

So what if it hurts me?
So what if I break down?
So what if this world just throws me off the edge…

Don’t care about all the pain in front of me
‘Cause I’m just trying to be happy, ya
Just wanna be happy

Sometimes, I’ll remember things that I haven’t thought about in a long time. Some happy. Others sad. Some horribly awful.

Our past makes us who we are. It’s okay to remember experiences, because those are the things that make us who we are today. Let’s not forget how far we’ve come.

 
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Posted by on June 30, 2014 in Diary

 

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The Reality of Watchers and Guardians and Everything Else in Between

For people who don’t know, I live a rather crazy fantasy life, one not really of my own choosing, but one that kind of just fell on me. I’m thankful that’s not literal.

I don’t indulge in the whole supernatural/new age/occultic/paranormal thing. I actually avoid it all unless there’s pressing matters that requires I must absolutely do something and can’t ignore. Today, I want to talk a bit about my weirdness and the things in it.

My crazy recurring dreams was the gateway drug into the madness for me. It’s common for people to have one or a few recurring dreams. All my dreams are recurring dreams. And that’s not normal. I was always afraid to sleep. And it wasn’t just the dreams. In waking life, I was immersed in an invisible world from as far back as I can remember, one where even my parents who were shamans (and still are), couldn’t understand and relate to. Apparently, the things I’ve experienced, aren’t normal to them either (shamans communicate with spirits). It made me feel more alone than ever. And in my quest to fit in somewhere–between the world of the living and the world of the invisible, I started to try and understand what was happening to me and why.

When I met Keera (whose name is actually spelled, Ke’era), I never knew she’d enlighten me a bit about my dreams and introduce me to hers, a world I called the Otherworld, and of the inhabitants who live there who have been in my dreams as well.

We were good friends. I thought we were. She thought I wanted them, that world and those things there. I didn’t live there. I was alive here. And I wanted to fit in here somewhere. It felt so good to have someone who would understand what I was talking about who wouldn’t look at me like I was crazy and who could actually say, “yeah, his name is Charlie”. For all the mistakes we’ve made in our friendship, she was my best friend for a long time. I don’t know where she is now or what has happened to her. I dream about her sometimes, but like in real life, she’s never there.

The Otherworld is a place that exists. I don’t know where specifically. I wrote our story–mine, actually, or whatever the thing there that looks like me and takes my name’s story. The woman with the long black hair.

For a while, Keera and I didn’t have names for them. They were named what we saw them as: the man with the ponytail; the demon; the woman with the red hair; the cursed man; the man with the green eyes; the short creatures; the lady who lived in the lake; etc. As we got more involved in that world and in them, we were able to know their names. Sometimes, they’d have normal names. Other times, their names were so creative, it sounded made up. Domonico/Demonico; Anna; Ameggo; Deltro Clearstone; Lorenzo; Charlie; Charly; Will; Maeroleez; Stephen; Carmelia; and of course, me and Keera.

How do you communicate with a world that isn’t here where voices are whispers on the wind and the entire world seems to exist within your own head? Keera and I used to call the Otherworld (she called it the OtherPlace) a shared delusion between us. It was shared schizophrenia and in a lot of ways, that was definitely it. I could infect her world and change it. And in the end, I ruined what was once a beautiful and happy and calm place for her by knowing its existence, by being a part of it.

Things got darker. And more terrifying. What used to be a quiet day relaxing in the trees for Keera in her dreams became nightmares, trying to run away from Mr. Gray, the cursed man. They became dreams of being locked up in mental institutions and having bombs strapped to the backs of others, having heads blown off with guns. And the violence increased.

I’m sure that if she could take it all back–letting me in and letting me know about her secret place–she would. Just like I would’ve taken it all back for the five years I was obsessed with finding myself and that place being a clue and what seemed like a lifetime wasted. Keera and I both have our regrets, about that world, about each other, about our past. But what’s done is done. All we can do now is to pick up the pieces and move on.

Demonico haunts me. I call him my best friend, because I can’t get rid of him. Right now, we’re not really on speaking terms. I’m actually not on speaking terms to any of them from that place, from that world. When I need him, he’s here. I guess that’s what counts. It’s a long story, one that spanned three books and I shortened to two: Beyond the Gates: Otherworld and Beyond the Gates: Darkworld.

I don’t really know what Demonico or any of the others would classify as. I call them all Watchers. Being a Christian, there’s a lot of blasphemy in my life, but aside from that, there’s also a lot of valuable insight.

What is a Watcher? In the world of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, a watcher is someone who guides and teaches the slayer in her job and duties. A Watcher is sort of the same thing. Many people have said that Watchers were once the fallen angels who came to earth and watched over the world of man, who took mortal women for wives and taught them magic and such things that mankind didn’t know of. In essence, both are true. A Watcher guides. A Watcher is a fallen angel. A Watcher teaches mankind magic. A Watcher is a nicer name than demon. Demons are fallen angels as well. So Demonico, whose name was once spelled Domonico, is actually in fact, a demon.

Contrary to popular belief, demons aren’t always the nasty, horrible smelling, violence feeding, murderous entities that they’re depicted in movies and television and books. Nope. Most demons are in fact, rather useful, rather truthful (to an extent for their own benefits), and rather nice. Yeah, I said it. They’re rather nice as in character wise kindness. After all, being mean and evil and murderous isn’t exactly a popular decision if their main purpose isn’t to kill, but to damn forever so they wouldn’t be alone when all that wonderful Judgement Day thing comes. Point is, it doesn’t matter what religion you are or what you believe in. Watchers, demons, guardians (yes, they have many names), and pretty much the majority of the invisible world exist whether you want to believe that they are real or not. Your acceptance of their existence isn’t needed for them to exist. They are here whether anyone believes or not. They have always been here.

Demonico wasn’t the first and he surely wasn’t the last in the multitude of weird things I attract. Why? I don’t even know. The next was Angelus. Another made up name for a dying god who isn’t dead and has more followers than probably the biggest church in the state I live in. Another Watcher I didn’t want.

I can’t even remember how Volk and I got to talking about Watchers and demons and such. I’m quite certain half of it had to do with my arrogance and his intelligence. He’s pretty arrogant too. He offered his Watcher, Angelus, to me. I declined. Never ask me a question where I can say no because I’d say no. He sounded so distraught. We were awesome friends. And yet, Angelus imposed himself on me. In the end, I was marked and part of the team. Yay. I sound so enthusiastic about getting deeper involved in the crazy of crazy. When my entire goal is to be normal and blend in with this world and society, more crazy things don’t help. But it’s difficult to pretend to be something I’m not either and I am not normal.

Angelus dies a lot. Go figure how a spirit can die, but they do. He was a construct, not the actual entity. I’ve had constructs. I’ve made them. Quite easy if you ask me, but then, everything’s been quite easy for me. It’s much harder for others. Do you want one composed of an actual effigy? How about one solid as a golem? Or one that just protects you while you’re doing all that astral traveling? How about one to protect you while you’re awake? There’s many uses for constructs. There’s many ways to make them. The most useful to me, are of me. Weird, but true.

The newest Watcher was Xyr, who, apparently skipped the entire bonding process that would’ve had to exist between me and Jay and instead, imposed himself on me. Again. Recurring theme here, I guess, of things forcing their way. For a weak and whiny girl who isn’t anything special, I get enslaved to being a part of something I just normally avoid.

Like Keera and Volk, Jay was needed to simply inform me of a few key elements that would lead to inevitability, which was whatever Watcher(s) that was attached to that individual. For Keera, it was Demonico. For Volk, it was Angelus. For Jay, it was Xyr.

Oh, and did I forget to mention the ArchDuke of Arcadia which is currently at war with the faes? How silly of me to forget such an important and prominent individual! Argh…the mess, the stress, the dramas…you’d wonder why I haven’t cracked yet and gone to the crazy house. That’s because no matter how crazy everything is, I’m not crazy. I only sound crazy.

Sighs

That’s not even the tip of the iceberg…

It doesn’t make me feel better to know I’m consorting around with demons. That’s the farthest from my intentions. One day, I’d like to return home to where I belong. And that’s not with them. So, right now, I persist in only knowing that there’s a bigger purpose for all of this jumbled mess and it will get sorted out later.

The best thing out of all of this, I think, is that I can relate to a multitude of people out there. Whether that’s the really crazy ones or the ones who simply, like me at one point in time, is trying to find themselves and why things happen to them. Being able to tell someone it’s okay and that we don’t actually end up in the crazy house makes everything better somehow. And letting people know that they’re not alone–that made a big difference to me so it’s good to be able to say it back to someone going through a tough time and letting them know that it’ll be okay. It will be okay.

Or is it all just in my head?

That is the question of skeptics. If someone is close to me, or if I hold them in high regards, then the weirdness in my life likes to leech on to them. I guess it’s a sort of blackmail kind of thing, and I never respond well to such things. Friends of mine have experienced dreams with entities from my part of the sphere, some as horrific as torturous nightmares. A lot of my friends don’t know the weird side of me, so they don’t talk about what happens to them and I’d have to hear it to know it. Even when they do know, they would be equally weird too, so it would seem like something weird they’re going through and not an attack from the weirder things concerning me. To everyone out there who has been hurt, I’m sorry. Maybe half of the reason why I’m antisocial is to keep everything in a bubble away from other people.

Most of the time, I don’t affect people in that manner–in the bad way. The whole nightmares thing was settled. That was a specific individual trying to get my attention and I got it and took care of it. The rest isn’t so bad. Tyesha had dreams of me and her and our four other best friends during college in some giant group orgy with a mystery guy that actually invades my dreams from time to time. I don’t even have dreams like that with that guy! Lol. That was a long time ago. He was a Watcher. And he’s actually not a part of my life anymore. He was only there at a time I needed someone to understand and there was none in this world. I was a child. Hope to a kid is heaven. And I hoped.

I actually shouldn’t affect people much. Demonico, Angelus, and Xyr would never bother anyone out of their own free will and whatnot. But I bother people sometimes. It’s kind of hard not to. When you’ve dealt with Watchers your whole life, you notice it in others. Meaning, when you know demons, you notice them in others and around others. The difficult thing is going up to someone and saying, “do you know you’ve got something dangerous with you?”

It’s hypocritical of me to pull demons out of people, knowing that I have them too and I can’t get rid of mine. Well, I take that back. I’m sure I can get rid of mine. But having more is not something I want. It’s something I have to deal with for right now.

People can tell me, “my daughter speaks to angels” or “my deceased great grandmother watches and protects our family” or “god gave me this gift to help others”. In all reality, what they’re really saying is, “this is what I believe it is”. They don’t know for sure. There’s no guarantee that what they believe is what is real.

When I was eighteen, I used to visit this cute little metaphysical shop. One of the psychics there was holding this two day workshop on developing your psychic abilities. I was invited because I was curious in the paranormal and also because I had been going to that little store for the past two years, ever since I could drive and before I could drive

At the first day of the workshop was this cool hippie looking talkative mom and her much quieter sixteen year old. She talked on and on about how her daughter speaks to angels and how they ask her to help them in their quests and everything. I watched this girl’s mom saying all this stuff about her, being proud to have a daughter who had such a spiritual gift. The girl didn’t talk at all. And even back then, before Demonico, before Angelus, before Xyr, I knew. I knew what they were and how dangerous they were. Yet, I almost envied the girl. When I was sixteen, my mom wasn’t that cool and accepting. My mom just avoided my weirdness and pretended that it didn’t exist. Lol. And all day, I stared at this girl who never looked at me. After the workshop was over, and they left, I gathered my courage and decided to talk to her the next day and ask her what the whole “talking to angels” was about. They never came back and I never saw them again.

Real angels don’t need help from people. If they couldn’t do their job without us, then they wouldn’t be angels because angels are greater and more powerful than us. But, a Watcher, a fallen, would have people believe that they are needed, that they are special. Everyone wants to feel needed. Everyone wants to be special. And they prey on that human desire. Everyone wants to be wanted.

I met a woman by the name of Dr. Morgan. Whether she was a real doctor or not was another story. I saw her reading something about the angel Metatron so I asked her what her interest in angels was. She proceeded to tell me that she was Jewish (as Metatron actually isn’t an angel in the Holy Bible) and that God gave her a gift to heal people.

Now, as amazing as it is to be able to heal people, I had to ask, “how do you do it?” And she tells me that she will be walking down the street and she’ll see someone and she’ll point and say, “you have so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem. You have to take this and this and it’ll heal you.” Those people she points to do have so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem. They follow her directions and they are healed. They come back thanking her for helping to save their lives.

And as incredible as that sounds, I’m still the crazy idiot who have to make people think for themselves. So I say, “how do you know that you just didn’t really curse people with so-and-so disease/cancer/health problem and then cure them because you cursed them in the first place?” Her answer was simple. “Because God gave me this gift to heal, not to curse.”

So I said, “what if the power you are using isn’t from God, but from another source. How could you tell the difference?” She gets angry and declares, “because I’m helping people!”

And I nod and said, “yes, but in order to help those people, you first pointed at random and told them they had something which only you can cure. If you never told them and they never met you, would they still end up sick or would they have gone about their lives never being sick?” Oh, she got angry. “My gift to heal is from God and I know it!” is what she said.

“But do you really?” I asked. “How do you tell someone who’s never known God how to know that it’s God speaking to them or helping them and so on? Couldn’t I just come along and pretend that I’m God and they wouldn’t know the difference? How are you so sure?” Her last answer was, “because I know” and she didn’t speak to me for a while. My point was–how do you know if it’s God or not?

A little old church lady, Miss Addie, once told me that in order to know God, you had to study and learn about Him from the Bible. “It’s the same as counterfeiting bills,” she said. ” There are too many fake bills to know which is real. So in order to tell the real bill from the fake, the people study the real bill so much that they can spot a fake immediately.” And while that’s true and relateable to Christians in the United States where the Bible is widely spread freely, what about people in other countries? What about someone who don’t know God and has never known Him?

It’s amazing how much Christian literature I read and how much of it reads exactly like all the pagan and occultic books I’ve read when I was much younger. While it’s amazing that someone cries out to Jesus and Jesus immediately stands in their bedroom and they become saved…with my experiences and my knowledge, I’d be very wary if that was Jesus or if it was something else pretending to be Him.

After all, Jesus isn’t on earth. He’s not here. And He’s not going to pop up to save anyone. Scripture tells us so. (Look up John 16:7, Mark 16:19, Acts 7:55-56, Romans 8:34, Colossians 3:1, Hebrews 10:12, 12:2, 1 Peter 3:22; also look up 1 Corithians 1:7, 1 Thessalonians 2:19, 3:13, 5:23, 2 Thessalonians 2:1, 2 Peter 1:16)

While it seems unprofitable for demons to “save” people and convert them to Christianity, I question why such things happen and why it would be demonic and not of God. It’s a good thing that people are converted and accepts Christ, right? For a Christian, I’m terrible at my work. I’m terrible at believing. Why couldn’t I just believe that that sixteen year old really spoke to angels or that Dr. Morgan actually has a gift of healing from God? Why couldn’t I believe that the deceased spirit of my cousin who possessed his sister and told his family to go get saved and become Christians as something coming from God? What is wrong with saving people? Isn’t the whole point to convert and save others?

Many Christians will go to hell. I’m sure they’ll be surprised when it happens. Being saved isn’t an automatic ticket to heaven. Most will disagree with me here. Go back and read about the parable of the ten virgins in the Bible (Matthew 25:1-13). Please have understanding. Christians can’t do what they want to do and think that being saved actually saves them to a Just and Holy God who does indeed deal out justice. That is why being a Christian means being ready to die/leave at any moment when Jesus returns. There are many reasons why a lot of Christians will go to hell. Ignorance, mostly. Compromisation of their faith. Absolute rebellion and disobedience. The list goes on and on.

Stop oppressing my faith!” Christians say. “It’s God and I know it.” And then they call me a witch, not knowing I’m a Christian.

Stop being blind and ignorant,” I say. Most Christians don’t even know anything about their beliefs. Faith isn’t blind. That’s something people came up with. People come up with the term “blind faith” in regards to how Christians believe in a God they cannot see. (They also say that love is blind too.)

Faith, it is said, in Hebrews 11:1 is quoted as, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (KJV–all italics mine.)

Nowhere does it say that Christians should walk about blindly believing that everything which seems good to people is of God. That’s our mistake–in believing that what we think is good and wonderful has to be from God or of God. I know plenty of people who shout out how horrible God is and questioning how He can do such terrible things if He was such a loving God. And now, that has to say something too. Christians shouldn’t just disregard someone else’s opinion about God as merely an “opinion”.

God in the Bible is depicted as many things, vengeful is one of those things. Romans 12:19 says, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.” (KJV–all italics mine.) Jealous is another. Exodus 34:14 says, “For thou shalt worship no other god: for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God:” (KJV–all italics mine.) And Nahum 1:2 says, “God is jealous, and the Lord revengeth; the Lord revengeth, and is furious; the Lord will take vengeance on his adversaries, and he reserveth wrath for his enemies.” (KJV–all italics mine.)

I can keep quoting scripture, but that’s not the point. The point is that our knowledge and our wisdom isn’t sufficient to God’s. So how can we say that because something we perceived as good happened, that it came from God? Earlier, I said that, “Most demons are in fact, rather useful, rather truthful (to an extent for their own benefits), and rather nice. Yeah, I said it. They’re rather nice as in character wise kindness. After all, being mean and evil and murderous isn’t exactly a popular decision if their main purpose isn’t to kill, but to damn forever so they wouldn’t be alone when all that wonderful Judgement Day thing comes.” And I still stick by what I’ve said.

It surprises me how much people don’t want to know the truth. It’s like Cypher said in The Matrix, “If you’d told us the truth, we would’ve told you to shove that red pill right up your ass.” And that’s how people feel about it. Ignorance is bliss, but to how far will someone pretend and keep pretending that everything’s okay?

I don’t know. This isn’t my fight. I can’t save anyone. I can yell at the top of my lungs until I’m blue in the face, but most people won’t listen and those who will, will only disregard what I say for their own truths. I mean, I get it. I understand. Demonico is incredible and Angelus is amazing and Xyr, well, I haven’t tested him out yet, but he’s proven interesting being the only strangely blue thing I’ve seen (aside from Shaar who is blue, but a different kind)–I understand the entire fascination with all of it. And power? Yeah, you’re talking mega watts of power. Angelus can fry people on the other side of the planet. And Demonico can travel worlds and conquer them. I don’t know what Xyr is capable of yet, but having the ArchDuke as a vassal is pretty impressive. So I totally understand why people would rather choose what they have (or think they have) and not care about their future or their soul or anything else. I’m there with all of you. I completely understand and relate.

And yet, it’s so unhappy, isn’t it? Most of us are alone. Most of us are misunderstood. Most of us hurt and hurt deeply. And it’s sad. It’s so incredibly sad. We’re all so unhappy. Power can’t compare to love. And all the Watchers and all the Guardians and all the Fallen in all the worlds cannot ever fill up that empty hole inside of you.

That is truth. And many of us know it. Many of us deny it. Many of us try to hide it. But it’s still there. Emptiness. Loneliness. We try to fill it with so many things: knowledge, power, sex…it’s just not the same.

 

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Dreams and Nightmares

I got a comment from my friend Jo Newey about dreams and dreaming. I hope she doesn’t mind that I made this a blog post. It was rather long and it’s crazy, so it deserves to be a blog post. ^_^

Joanne

June 28, 2014 at 5:46 am

I also have a lot of nightmares, lucid dreams, dreams where I don’t know if I’m sleeping and worst of all, false awakenings. Sometimes I’ll have nightmare after nightmare all night and not know whether I’m awake or asleep. I spend the whole time trying to wake myself up by trying to move, do math, remember things from real life, look at my hand, look for my bed (many suggestions I’ve heard but none seem to work), only to “wake up” in my dream again and start over. When I actually do wake up in the morning, it takes me a few minutes to be sure I’m not dreaming. Then I’ll be freaked out for the rest of the day.

I wouldn’t say I’ve come to terms with my weird dreams like you have though, they scare the hell out of me and some nights I don’t want to go to sleep out of fear.

How do you stay calm in your nightmares? Or don’t you?

Ever since I can remember, I’ve had nightmares. Every single dream had some horrific element in it, in them, and yes, there were times when I barely slept a few hours, went to school, stayed up all night, and repeated the process while making A’s and B’s. It was hard, but I did it because I was afraid to fall asleep. And in my dreams, pain hurts like hell. That whole, “pinch yourself and if it hurts, then you’re awake” thing is so not true when it comes to me. Pain is real in my dreams and sometimes, it carries over. Sometimes, things carry over like tears. I can cry so hard in a dream that I’d wake up crying. It doesn’t feel good.

When I was around sixteen, I got tired of being afraid. For once in my life, I was angry. I screamed at the top of my lungs and told it all to go away. I was tired of not having enough sleep, tired of waking up more sleep deprived than before I went to sleep, and tired of all the terrors and the horrors. I told myself that day that no matter how horrible my dreams were, I was going to get a good night’s sleep and I will wake up refreshed. Sometimes, all it takes is taking a stand for yourself. That’s all it took me…for me to tell myself that I was going to sleep good, no matter what kind of creepy dreams I had. So every night from then on, I slept and I woke up feeling great. Now, that didn’t mean that my dreams changed at all. They didn’t. But I slept now and I slept good–meaning that I woke up not allowing the dreams to stress me out. I think that’s what is happening to you now. You’re waking up with your dreams harassing you and stressing you out.

I know everything you speak of, Jo, about your dreams and the false awakenings. I hated those things. When you wake up, but you’re not really awake, you’re just awake in another dream. And it seems so much easier for you to wake up, stay up because you’re afraid, fall asleep hours later, and bam! You hit that same dream again or go right back to where you left off. I hated those things.

For me, I believe that standing up for myself really made a difference. I think you should try it too. Just control yourself. Tell yourself before you go to bed that you will have a good night’s sleep and you will wake up feeling refreshed. It might not work the first time (I don’t think you’re in anger yet, you’re still in fear. I was there for a long time so I totally understand). Keep trying. Eventually, what you’re doing is allowing yourself sleep and nice sleep. Your dreams may not change (mine haven’t yet), but whatever happens in the dream, will no longer affect you being awake and while you’re awake. Does that make sense? I hope it does.

My dreams are a safety net. I say that in the nicest way possible because, I cannot astral project and I also cannot go out of body. I’ve been out of body a few times, but I’m normally stuck in some part to my body, so what I do see is the room I’m sleeping in. I normally go out of body every time I sleep at a new house or a new place. Creepy to say this, but I’ve learned to just accept it as my way of making sure where I sleep is safe. And I still sleep with a light on…because I have nightmares, I’m afraid of the dark, and I tend to draw weird stuff to me. It’s not really a gift. It sucks. No one wants to be afraid all of the time. But, back to what I was saying about my dreams being a safety net. No matter how horrific my dreams are, I cannot leave them. And nothing can come in that hasn’t already been there. So in a way, it’s safe because everything that is there has been there from the beginning. Even though my dreams are scary, I know that they will not actually hurt my physical self and since I’ve stood up and stopped them from affecting my normal life, they don’t do that either.

I stay calm in my dreams because I’m lucid in them the majority of the time. And because they’re all recurring dreams, I’ve tried many ways to escape the dreams, so when I am dreaming, I get flashbacks of the many ways I’ve tried–and failed–at escaping the dreams. Meaning that I am able to see the quickest and least painful way to let the dream play out.

Also, sometimes, I’m not really in the dream. It’s weird. It’s like I inhabit the dream bodies and then a while later, I am separate and they continue on with whatever odd life they’re having. Last night, I literally dreamed that I was a vampire and later, that vampire was being played by Angelina Jolie. Odd, but true.

And I’m not really all that calm in my dreams. I panic…a lot. And when I panic, I get desperate. So I will do wild things, crazy things just to upset the dream as much as possible. But remember that I’m also mostly lucid. While sometimes, I can fake knowing I’m dreaming and fall right into the patterns of the dream, forgetting that I am dreaming, I make it a point to tell myself before I go to bed what I aim to accomplish with my dreams. I’ve experimented a lot. And dream books do not help at all. I’ve tried the majority of them.

When I panic and do crazy things, I go for the craziest of things. For example: a lot of the “baddies” in my dreams like to bite me and rip my flesh off. Literally, they eat me. And that’s always scary. It’s not a dog gnawing on your leg playfully. No. That dog is causing a lot of harm to your leg by breaking it and eating it raw. And I did mention that I always feel pain, right? Yeah, it hurts. So when I panic, I do the same thing back. I start to eat them–which is gross and it makes me gag, but hey, the way that I see it is that if someone/something is trying to eat me, I will eat them right back and see who wins in devouring the other first.

In a dream, I was in a car and this witch was beside me and she started trying to eat my arm. So I panicked, grabbed her head, and started eating her face. Yep. It was gross. And yes, I knew I was dreaming, but fear is a bit too strong to control and keep calm. And yes, I did eat her head and threw her body out of the window. In my opinion, whether awake or asleep…things without heads cannot see and cannot go anywhere.

Another example (and I was super lucid to do this)–I got tired of all the crazy characters that would be out in the street in front of my childhood home in my dream as if it was some universal highway for people to travel around on. So, I didn’t panic this time, but I experimented so much that as soon as I hit being lucid and I am out of that house (which is creepy and always haunted in the dream, by the way)–I can step outside, run into the street, and command everyone (no matter where they’re hiding) to show up. I can also change the time of day which is super cool. Changing night into day should tell you automatically that you’re dreaming, but dreams are stupid in that the impossible can happen and it all seems very normal. But, going for extremes, I made everyone take their clothes off. Of course, they all looked at me weird and funny, so I took my clothes off. Over and over and over again. I think the main purpose was to find a way to break the dreams, to break the loops of recurring dreams, and to change a dream efficiently. I would get down to half naked before clothes automatically appeared and I’m back to taking off layers and endless layers.

I do stupid things when I panic because I know I’m asleep, but it’s fear that also takes over me. I haven’t learned how to control it yet. At least not that well.

Jo, I think you should keep a dream journal. Tell yourself before you sleep that you will remember your dreams and then write them down when you wake up. It will help you to keep track of your dreams, maybe see something that the  dream is trying to say (this never works with me. My dreams have nothing to tell me. They’ve said so themselves.), and maybe it will also help to stop that dream from returning. (Do you have recurring dreams? I find that if I remember enough of a dream that helps me to remember the rest of the dream, that dream skips and doesn’t replay until I have forgotten it.)

Also, be firm. Stand up to your dreams and tell it what you want and what’s going to happen. Don’t let it control you. If you’d like to be lucid in your dreams, I’ll help. Let me know. I’ve tried a couple of things. Doesn’t work 100 percent. But it works in the beginning until my dreams got smarter.

Also, one more thing about waking up from a dream. I hate it. If you’re paralyzed, you can try moving. Rock your body back and forth or a limb until you wake. It’ll give you that sharp pins and needles feeling which I also hate (because it’s a strange sensation and can be similar to pain), but you’ll wake up.

I’ll tell you what I did when I was desperate, but don’t ever try it. Obviously, when you read this, you’ll see that it didn’t work. Not the way I wanted it to.

In a dream, I was so terrified, that I took a knife (how that happened to be in the bedroom, I have no idea), and I cut my chest open and ripped my heart out. I knew I was dreaming. I panicked. The body I was in, had an enlarged heart. I got to see it before I passed out. And I woke up, in the same dream again in a new dream body. (Yes, I feel like I’m possessing people or something odd like that at times.) This time, no knife. So I stabbed myself with a pair of scissors. Woke up in the dream again. No scissors or anything sharp. Took a pen and stabbed myself. And all the while, the things I was afraid of were staring at me, watching me commit dream suicide. Woke up again in the dream. Nothing sharp and nothing even blunt to use as a weapon. By now, they’re all confused and just staring. And I’m scared out of my wits. Which is why I resorted to the craziest things ever. I don’t remember what else I’ve tried after that. I did try using my hands, only to wake up finding myself tied and bound. It was insane, but when I feel trapped like that, like I couldn’t wake up and I’m aware that I’m dreaming–nothing matters. Not the pain, not the dream, not crazy. It’s like a rat that’s trapped. They’ll eat through anything to try and get out. And that’s me. That’s what I do. I hope you will never get desperate like that. But I learned stuff about myself. I learned that I have quite an imagination.

No one should have dreams like I do. So stand up to yours. I hope your dreams are like those I’ve read about with other people…where the dreams actually listen to you. Just try it anyway. The worse thing that could happen is what my dreams do to me when I try to command them–they laugh and tell me that they’re not a part of me, nor do they come from me, nor are they part of my subconscious, and I cannot control them. No one should have my dreams. Demand what you want from yours. If you’re not lucid enough in your dreams, tell yourself you’ll sleep well before you go to bed. Affirmation like that in this case really works. Good luck to you. Sorry this is so long. And I hope you don’t mind, but I am making this a blog post. It’s interesting and too long to just be in the comments. Let me know if I can help in any way. Thank you.

PS–Spinning, yes, twirling yourself around and around as fast as you can go. Try that in a dream. It is supposed to “reset” you in some way by changing your environment. So if you find yourself in a creepy environment, spin around as fast as you can for as long as you can and when you stop, your surroundings should have changed. I read it somewhere. Tried it and it worked and helped me out a lot in the beginning. After maybe fifty tries (all successful), the dreams caught on and got smarter. They adapted. So then, I had to try something else.

If you can find a mirror, push yourself through it. It will take you someplace else. If the mirror is too small, stretch it and pull it. It always works in the beginning. My dreams are like, a living entity or something. They adapt. I don’t know how. After so many successful tries with the mirror, I now just end up on the other side of the mirror, not in a different setting. It’s frustrating to have to always try something new to trick my dreams.

I even got to the point where I’d put my hand up against a wall and do weird stuff like break it, or turn it glassy so it’s mirror like so I can escape, or form a doorway so I can escape. Whenever I form doorways, they only lead to outside. I’ll still be in the same surroundings. Eventually, I’ll master these dreams. But what’s more, I wonder if leaving them would put me in danger because I attract weird things like a magnet. It’s not safe for me out there.

 
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Posted by on June 28, 2014 in Diary

 

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42-Hour Hallucinations

For this weekend, I’m planning to stay up for two days. I was going to sleep one last time, but nah. Why not start early? I woke up at 9:30 this morning, but to be safe, I’ll say it was 10am. And on that count, I’m already a good 12 hours in. Only 30 more to go!

A long time ago, I was up for two days playing games and chatting and staying online with a friend. I didn’t even realize that two days had gone by. All I did was cook yummy vermicelli fettuccine alfredo with pan seared chicken and sauteed mushrooms! Yum! I ate that three times a day, for two days.

At about 42 hours, I started to hallucinate. It was partly halfway due to staring at a computer screen constantly, but it wasn’t anything that anyone had ever told me about hallucinating. I didn’t see little elves or faeries or any of that stuff. No demons. Nothing scary. No figures. No snipers in the trees. Lol. What I saw was pretty cool though.

There were two matrices. One was a bright green and the other was a bright red. And they moved. Like the air, but uniformly. It was as if they encompassed all the space that the air filled up. However, I filled up space too and it seemed like the matrices folded back against itself with something solid in the way. Matter, I guess. I don’t really know.

I’ve never attempted to go back to that 42-hour mark of staying awake. I never had the time to do so. And anything that uses my brain (like work or thinking) normally causes mental stress which is relieved by sleeping. So I do sleep as much as I am able to to help lower stress.

Today, I am introduced to a free online game (of which you will need to download and patch) called Vindictus. I fully intend for this game to be my muse for the moment. And if I get really bored, I’ll do something that I haven’t done since the 2000’s–I’ll chat online. Lol. It’s been ages since I’ve actually been in a chat room. It would be interesting.

The question is, why would I want to hallucinate?

I don’t do drugs. I don’t smoke. I don’t drink. And I hardly go out and be social. I have nightmares and my life is filled with lots of magic-wise things. Hallucinating would not be ideal to someone like me who has had a memorable amount of traumatic experiences. The smart thing to do would be to sleep and not naturally induce any kind of hallucinations. Why am I doing this?

I am experimenting. Like my dreams, which are all recurring dreams, and which are all nightmares, I am safe regardless of what terrifying thing lurks in the deepest, darkest corner of my mind. I am pushing boundaries. I presume that hallucinations, if I do have them, would be very much in the same way as my dreams. If they’re scary, it wouldn’t make a real difference because I would still be safe and unharmed through it all. It’s stupid to see how far my safety net can stretch, but sometimes, it’s nice to know that you’ll always be okay. I’ll always be okay.

 
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Posted by on June 28, 2014 in Diary

 

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Mind, Memories, Mistakes

The human imagination is such an incredible thing. We can create worlds with flying dragons that speak, where ships sail in the air high above in the clouds, whom we want to take the place of hero, sidekick(s), and villain, what wonders impossible in the real world are happening daily, and why certain things occur in their set order complete with explanations suitable for understanding. Imagination–one of the greatest gifts of mankind. And also, one of its greatest failures. We can drive ourselves mad with our own minds.

 

 
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Posted by on June 26, 2014 in Diary

 

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Dreaming Dreams About Vampires and Other Things

I suppose this is what I get for not working on my writing. Is dreaming about vampires a hint for continuing my vampire series? I have no idea, but the thought of dreaming is interesting for in a dream, it’s a bit of a mix of real life and movies and the supernatural.

A dream is the perfect alternate reality for in dreams, we are much like in real life, except it all ends suddenly and we’re awakened. It reminds me of that short quote that says:

Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.

In a dream, anything can happen. Yet, the dreamer most undoubtedly cannot distinguish between the laws of reality in a dream. A person or a setting in a dream can change before the dreamer’s eyes and in the dream, the dreamer will not realize that that change defies the very nature of real life and existence. In a dream, such extreme changes can seem ordinary and normal to the dreamer. Most often, the dreamer won’t even realize the changes that occurred.

It’s been a while since I’ve been keeping up with my dreams or taking any serious interest in them. If I’m not writing, I might as well be doing something productive. I was supposed to have started a dream testing group thing, but for some reason, I just never got my info packets so, I’m not in the dream group. I need to do some dream working.

Last night was interesting. I managed to stick to one dream, prolonging it or rather, much like a television series, continued going through the episodes which, unless it has happened this way before since all my dreams are recurring, I’ve managed to actually stick close to a subject for the night which is pretty damn near impossible. It’s very true that I can’t change much about my dreams. I’ve tried. And I can’t change the order in which I dream unless I remember the dreams. When my dreams are remembered, they’re skipped in the queue. It’s odd, but that’s how my dreams work.

So, here was the basis of my dream, from which I’ve woken up several times during the course of the night. I normally can’t go back to a halfway decent dream where I’m not dying or being tortured so this was pretty cool.

There’s some vampire prince and I’m at this house with not only him, but a bunch of girls and at least one other guy. Actually, I thought everyone was just normal. They all looked normal. The guy was…tall, dark, and handsome. Haha! It’s so funny because that describes a lot of the men from romance novels.

He was a pretty decent guy. Gave me some odd things/gifts that I paid no attention to. One was a pen with like…his stamp/signature/sigil/something on it. I didn’t pay any attention to the importance of it so I stuck it in a cup with lots of other odds and ends and pens. Everything was just odd if I think about it now. He was interested and I guess that was his way of showing that he was interested.

There was this one part where four of us were sitting on a couch and he was at one end and I was at the other. He had some girl he was talking to and being friendly with–a sister or a cousin, but she was related by blood (and later explained the weird gifts to me as his way of making me a princess…?). There was some guy beside me who had his arm around my shoulder and I had my arm between us to keep him at a distance because I knew how upset the other guy was going to get if he saw and misunderstood. And I was right. The vampire prince (who was totally shirtless by the way), took the guy by the shoulder and almost threw him across the room, but when he saw me pushing the guy away, he calmed down and relaxed some.

I didn’t know the vampire prince was a vampire prince until I was in a bedroom, just standing at the doorway talking to two girls and the vampire king came in and I must’ve been the only human because he looked at me and wanted to rip my arm open. I stared at him and said the baddest thing I’ve ever said in a dream. I said, “You touch me and try and drink my blood and I will burn you from the inside out.

Haha!

I must’ve gotten that from my vampire stories. But in the dream, since all my dreams were recurring dreams and I spent a great chunk of my dream life trying to escape each dream, I’ve encountered pretty much all the possible ways that things can change within a single dream. And in this one, I had a flashback memory of him attacking me and I burned him with fire from the inside out. So I was brave because I knew I could do it since I had done it before.

The vampire king actually didn’t attack me though. It also had something to do with my supernatural admirer. He wouldn’t have been too happy if I got hurt. Having a friend, any kind of friend in my dreams is worth more than anything. My dreams are not happy dreams. I’m lucky if they’re not trying their best to torture and kill me.

Dreams to me, are very interesting. They’re interesting because I’m super sheltered in my dreams and everyone in my dreamworld, even those things that hurt and harm and torture and kill me–aren’t even harmful in the least bit. My dreams hurt like a bitch, but that’s besides the point. The point is that everyone in my dreamworld has a role to play. It’s so weird. And I do dream of people I know in real life–like my parents and my family for example–but I never dream about the real person. There are people in my dream whose entire job is to imitate people I know in real life and to pretend to be them. It’s so weird to explain to someone else so they’d understand.

I have awesome best friends in my dreams whose names I don’t remember in the dream or upon waking, but I know we’ve been best friends for forever. It’s so weird to think about dreams because my dreams are indeed like the scariest cool alternate universe I’ve ever known.

There’s this guy that’s my best friend. He resembles no one I know in real life and he only exists in my dreams, but he only exists in a specific type of dream–the ones where I attend a specific school that’s kind of Japanese-esque with the bamboo window sliding doors and such.

Particular settings and particular dreams have particular people that kind of belongs in that set. It’s hard to explain. Each environmental set has a certain number of “people” or “things” or “others” populating it and they don’t cross over from one set (like a specific school for example) over to a different set (my childhood home for another example). It’s like many contained worlds within this great big whole. It’s all kind of cool and interesting.

I mostly avoid bathrooms no matter what type of dream setting I’m in. The bathrooms almost always has some kind of weird spirit/ghost problem going on. Invisible things that literally numbs my entire body with that pins and needles feeling when your limbs are asleep. It’s an odd sensation and no matter how many times I try to get used to the feeling within a dream, I often get scared and start to panic. Another way to describe that sensation is like being gnawed on by millions of invisible rats. It’s not a good feeling.

And I’m always safer outside for whatever reason because inside houses and buildings can be scary due to lights flickering out and not coming back on, lack of sight due to the darkness, and terrible evil things lurking in darkness. Because of the extent of work I do in my dreams, I often get flashbacks of the many ways I’ve tried to change a dream. If I’m about to walk into a dangerous part of town or woods, I get many flashbacks of the different ways that the dream happened the last time that I dreamed that same dream. It’s an odd, but useful method since I often don’t want to run into a pack of werewolves, get hunted by witches, have to battle vampires and dinosaurs or any number of things like flying sharks. Yes, sharks that swim in air. It’s still scary because they have huge teeth!

I am also always safer to stick to someone who likes me. Or someone I know in some way. Or someone who pretends to be one of my family members. I learned to never let anything know that I know that they’re not really my family or my friends. Things get dangerous quickly if things in my dreams are aware that I’m aware of their charade.

The one thing I love the most about my dreams is the night time sky. Whenever it’s night and I’m not being chased or scared out of my mind, I can look up at the sky and it’s like my eyes become the Hubble telescope. I see the stars in all its beautiful colors and glows and yes, I even see alien ships and planets and it’s the coolest thing ever! Normally, I’m an idiot. So even though I am fully aware of myself dreaming, I’m still snapping pictures, hoping that I can somehow transfer the images over to being manifest in the real world. Lol.

The sky can be interesting during the day too. Sometimes, there are planets floating in the sky–too far off for me to touch, but magnified somehow so I can see them. It’s the coolest science fiction setting ever.

Running is one of the things I love most about my dreams. Running and jumping. It sounds crazy, but, I can run really fast and leap over things and jump high enough to grab on to the roof of ten-story buildings and such. It’s the most amazing rush! And unfortunately, it only happens if I’m not being chased. If I have a need to run and get away, a turtle will pass me by within a minute’s time. I am that slow when it comes to trying to out run zombies or vampires or ghosties or any type of such creatures/things/people who want to hurt me.

Werewolves vary a lot in my dreams. They all don’t look like Taylor Lautner (Jacob) from Twilight. Lol. One subspecies of them are reddish brown, super stout and short, and they speak in growled voices with mouths full of sharp teeth. They have thick snouts that aren’t wolf like in any way. It looks more like Alf’s nose from that tv show, ALF. They have very short tails which is more like a vestige of the spine. They walk on all fours with short arms and legs and curved spines. They kind of do a weird bumpy jumping walk instead of walking. They have fur covered ears that are over-sized and pointed. The most important character about them is that they’re bound to vampires (a specific type, I’m sure) and they are servants to those vampires. These werewolves cannot change into a human shape. They cannot change shape at all.

Another type of werewolves in my dreams are strictly males. They’re the “Taylor Lautner” werewolves. They’re totally smoking hot and all over the age of 18. Haha!

There’s a subspecies of werewolves that are silver/grey and they’re these huge creatures that stand eight to ten feet tall with humanoid looking bodies, but they’re all wolf on super muscular legs.

There are many subspecies of werewolves that I dream about. I usually avoid them. I usually avoid everything and everyone in my dreams and for good reason: they’re dangerous!

There are also many types of vampires. Actually, none of the vampires that I have in the Turning vampire series is from my dreams (I’m glad for the most part, because there’s crazy vampires like the Streigos which resemble gargoyles and there’s the Faustians which are rotting corpses and such).

One such vampire species, the kind that controls the reddish stout werewolves, are also shapeshifters. They turn into the ugliest bald cats, all wrinkly and gross. They also possess magic. So pretty much, they’re sorcerers that are vampires. It’s weird.

Another vampire species are those that have these super large hooked noses and bald heads with greatly pointed ears. These dress pretty plain and try not to draw attention to themselves although they feed on blood and can massacre without feelings.

I’m not sure if any species of vampires in my dreams fly. I fly…by jumping. Lol. I’ll have to think about it.

I just remembered something else I love about my dreams! The creatures! The wildlife is amazing! Despite the fact that they all want to kill me for whatever reason, the animals in my dreams are ridiculously awesome. I wish I was a better artist so I can draw them perfectly because they’re wicked cool!

There are these huge stork like birds that stand as tall as a human with black bodies and their feathers are more like hairs and they have white tipped wings and these thick beaks that are hard as a rock. It’s a bit difficult to stand there and stare at how incredible everything looks when everything is trying to kill me. Lol.

Or these wild dogs that are a mix of jackals and hyenas and wolves with feline looking heads and short snouts and huge bodies! They’ve got like tufts of hair that make them seem to sport mohawks while their dark bodies have white/tan spots on the bottom half of their legs. Of course, they all make me run inside the haunted, creepy houses that I tried to stay out of, but they look incredible.

And the dinosaurs! It’s incredible. I mean, I don’t have that much time staring at a velociraptor while it’s trying to claw me, but wow, I wouldn’t have imagined their colors and the stripes and the blues and greens. It’s unreal. Not to forget to mention that T-Rex often terrorizes me in different settings. I am stupid terrified of dinosaurs! Lol.

When I actually finish writing and publishing all the other half-finished novels I’ve already started writing that are based on my dreams, everyone can actually see how incredible some of the animals and weird stuff and species and worlds are. It’s insanity! But they make for excellent books!

Take Alcone and the Rhiaddon for example. That was a dream I had about a fourteen year old boy named Alcone (the name was actually his that I heard in the dream) and he was born into a group of people called the Rhiaddon (the only other name I heard in the dream and remembered). The Rhiaddon have this special ability to see the Damned, people who have sinned and are destined for Hell. The Rhiaddon possess a special gate that is guarded by two stone guardians with two giant snakes which all usher the Damned through the gate and into hell every night. Because of an agreement between God and the devil, if a single Damned is missing, then the devil has the authority to come up through the gate and take one of the Rhiaddon as a replacement. It’s actually a very interesting and awesome story about love and life and beliefs. It’s so cool! I need to get to writing!

I feel like I make my dreams out to be pretty awesome, but, I wouldn’t wish my dreams on anyone else. They’re really nightmares in disguise. I used to sleep less than three hours a night when I was a kid because I was afraid to go to sleep. I was afraid to dream. And I would wake up feeling worse off than before I went to bed. It wasn’t until I got much older (and fed up), that I didn’t allow my dreams to stop me from getting a good night’s sleep  no matter how horrific the dream was. And that still stands today. I sleep well, only because I don’t allow the dreams to affect me. But within the dream is a different story. It’s an alternate universe where everything painful hurts just as much as if it’s real.

Since it’s been a while since I’ve kept a dream journal or done anything concerning my dreams, I’m going to start keeping a dream journal. A sort of dream diary experiment. I am still looking forward to changing my dreams. And I am still looking forward to having completely brand new dreams I haven’t dreamed before (since all my dreams are recurring dreams).

Every night, I will aim to try and dream about a certain topic or dream a certain way and see how that comes along.

Tonight, I will try to dream about vampires and see if I can tap into the world of Marisa and the Arromanovokzjas since they don’t exist in my dream world. I’ll try to keep track of date and time and I’ll also try to use lucidity tricks such as flickering lights, bathrooms, going through mirrors, and spinning which will help me with realizing that I am dreaming and also to change the dream. Anyone else who wants to try and dream about Marisa and her brothers and their world, please let me know how well you succeeded in the comments! I’ll be so excited if someone gets there!

Goodnight! ^_^

 
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Posted by on June 25, 2014 in Diary, Dream Diary

 

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Disturbia–Not the Movie and Not the Song

What is disturbing to you?

Is it disturbing when a mother kills her own child? (http://motherswhokillchildren.blogspot.com/ and http://thoughtcatalog.com/jim-goad/2014/04/20-moms-who-killed-their-kids/ and http://abcnews.go.com/2020/infamous-cases-moms-allegedly-murder-kids/story?id=10588541)

Is it disturbing when a man attacks another man and eats his face off? (http://newsfeed.time.com/2012/05/29/naked-man-chews-other-guys-face-shot-dead-by-cops/ and http://abcnews.go.com/US/miami-face-eating-attack-lasted-18-agonizing-minutes/story?id=16458696)

Is it disturbing that monster/beast erotica is a popular trend in literature? (http://uproxx.com/gammasquad/2014/01/virginia-wade-bigfoot-porn-amazon/ and http://publishingperspectives.com/2013/10/dinosaur-erotica-seriously-oh-yes-and-it-sells/ and http://jezebel.com/forget-dinosaur-erotica-its-all-about-bigfoot-erotica-1501243455 and http://jezebel.com/women-make-bank-writing-dinosaur-erotica-1440797687 and http://theweek.com/article/index/250692/dinosaur-erotica-exists-heres-what-you-need-to-know)

Is it disturbing that many cultures around the world marry off girls as young as eight or nine years old to men old enough to be their fathers? (http://www.girlsnotbrides.org/about-child-marriage/ and http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2011/06/child-brides/gorney-text and http://www.forwarduk.org.uk/key-issues/child-marriage and http://becauseiamagirl.ca/child-marriage and http://www.pbs.org/now/shows/341/facts.html)

Is it disturbing that 1 out of 6 people (42.6 million with 1.6 million children) live in poverty in the United States and that more than a third of those are children? (http://www.povertyusa.org/ and http://www.nclej.org/poverty-in-the-us.php and http://www.npc.umich.edu/poverty/ and )

Is it disturbing that over half a million people (roughly over 600,000) are homeless on any given night and a third of those are children? (https://www.onecpd.info/resources/documents/ahar-2013-part1.pdf and http://www.studentsagainsthunger.org/page/hhp/overview-homelessness-america and http://nationalhomeless.org/about-homelessness/)

Is it disturbing that 14% of adults in the United States (32 million) can’t read? (http://www.statisticbrain.com/number-of-american-adults-who-cant-read/ and http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/06/illiteracy-rate_n_3880355.html and https://www.dosomething.org/facts/11-facts-about-literacy-america)

Ever wonder if you’re the only one who feels a certain way? Ever wonder if you’re the only one who goes through a certain experience? Ever wonder if you’re alone?

Deep thinking makes my head hurt. So music helps a lot. I found this pretty cool remix of Game of Thrones by MelodySheep on YouTube called The Dragon’s Daughter. It’s interesting. It’ll help with softening the harsh things I’ve been thinking about.

And I swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming. I am the Dragon’s daughter. You shall have a golden crown men shall tremble to behold. And I swear to you, I am the Dragon’s daughter.

What are monsters?

We usually think of human monsters as terrifying people who did monstrous things. Many names come to mind: John Wayne Gacy, Vlad the Impaler, Albert DeSalvo, Charles Manson, Jack the Ripper, the Marquis de Sade, Ted Bundy, and any number of serial killers. Many people know who the named were, infamous for their deeds while alive. Many people would include the Nazis in that list. But are any of these people really monsters? Ordinary people can do monstrous things.

What does that mean?

It means that human monsters are just like us. We are capable of all the great evil they’ve done. Many will deny that they could ever do such things–but can we really be capable of such horrific things? Yes. Human monsters are not monsters, but human. And we too, are human.

This is probably one of the most difficult posts for me to write, not because of the nature of the post, but because of the great misunderstanding that people will have because they don’t understand. How do you explain to someone that they cannot look at any single human being or at any group and believe that they are less than human no matter what they’ve done? By no means do I condone people going about doing great evil. The point of all of this is to tell everyone that we are all the same. We all have the same temptations. We all have the same thoughts. We all have the same distorted lusts. We are not alone. This post isn’t about being wicked. It is about understanding that we are not alone in our battles. Everyone is fighting the same battle that we are–the battle for our souls.

I’m an author. I write paranormal romance novels. My vampire series has sex, blood, and violence in them. It’s not that surprising to me that there is erotica in every subcategory possibly conceived to mankind. What’s the difference between vampire erotica and dinosaur erotica? What’s the difference between what I write and rape erotica? Or incest erotica? Beast erotica is superbly popular from regular animals to animal hybrids and halfbreeds that resemble humans to mythological creatures like werewolves and vampires to supernatural creatures like ghosts and demons and angels to cryptozoological monsters like bigfoot and aliens (among others).

(I’m fully aware that I’m about to put my foot in my mouth many times before this post is done. I’ll probably just end up confusing people. *frowns*)

How is it any better or more respectable that I write vampire erotica than someone who writes about incestuous relationships in their novels? Technically, vampires are all related by blood–literally. Aren’t they all pretty much related too?

Virginia Wade makes $30k a month on ebook sales writing bigfoot erotica (http://newsfeed.time.com/2014/01/17/how-to-make-money-writing-bigfoot-sex-scenes/). There’s a market for this and things like this–and what does that even mean? It means that we, as humans, have really perverted lusts and we’re really open about it.

I’m really one for saying it since I write erotica, in the sense that there’s plenty of sex in the vampire series (please remember there’s also an incredible plot that is the main focus of the series), and I feel like I’m about to get witch hunted for mentioning that we’re all very blatant with our lack of morals and ethics, but it’s not about the perversion or the lust or how much one particular fetish sells. It’s about us, as human beings, and how far we’ve come to all of this–to accepting it and to advertising and condoning it as if it’s okay. We are compromising ourselves and defending our wickedness by comparison to others which isn’t the point. The point is that we are exactly all the same. We are exactly all the same.

How do we judge other people when we’re exactly the same like them? Human monsters are ordinary people who do monstrous things and we are ordinary people capable of monstrous things. We’re not different. We’re all the same.

Vampire sex isn’t really all that bad since they’re basically humans.

Really? And that makes it okay because they’re kind of human? Have we forgotten that they drink blood and kill? (That’s a made up sentence by me as an example of an excuse. You can take out the word “vampire” and replace it with any number of other things and add any excuse you see fit.)

Do I get off on vampire porn? I get off on porn, period. This is only important because as a species, we as human beings, are preoccupied with our lust for not only sex, but for a multitude of things as long as they’re exciting and new and it feels good.

We get off on people dying. Sad to say, but it’s true. There is no book or movie or game that doesn’t involve anyone not dying. Titanic, awesome James Cameron movie that it is, would not be the same if Jack didn’t die. Almost every Disney movie kills off at least one parent and the bad guy. Disney promotes sex–something I didn’t know until now, even though I’m an avid watcher of Disney movies and cartoons and anime. A good book or movie always has someone that dies. Lots of people dying makes things great instead of simply good. How have we fallen so far that we promote sex and death and violence?

Yet, we can say that our lusts are okay and acceptable while serial killers and rapists and child molestors and terrorists and communists are evil and wicked. How do we even begin to justify ourselves while we condemn everyone else?

I don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense. How do we say it’s okay when we think of something or do something, but it’s wrong when someone else does pretty much the same thing?

But, wait. I’m not going to rape someone or molest a child or torture millions of people or impale people on stakes or any of that stuff. What’s so wrong with me reading vampire erotica and enjoying it?

Wrong is still wrong. It’s not about the amount. It’s the fact that it’s the same kind of wrong as every other wrong we think and know is wrong. There’s no middle ground. Just because the possibility of something like a vampire existing is super slim, that doesn’t make it okay to lust after one. Just because we tell one lie doesn’t make it more okay than if we’ve told hundreds of lies.

This is getting complicated. How do I effectively say what I want to say without losing everyone I’m trying to share this with? Let’s try this a bit differently.

Have you ever experienced something super horrible that made you feel like you were the only person in the world that that happened to? We’ve all been there. You’re not alone.

Have you ever thought of killing anyone? We’ve all thought of it. You’re not alone.

(It’s a quarter past 1am. I’ll finish this tomorrow, I hope. I need to sleep and my head needs to rest.)

Hm…it sounds like I’m telling people it’s okay to go out and do monstrous things. No, it’s not okay. That’s not what I’m saying. But if you’ve ever thought about such things or have had dark thoughts and desires, you’re not alone. So it’s okay to get help. From where is the question. Sighs.

I don’t think there’s any delicate way to tell people that they’re really just awful and that it’s okay that they’re terrible because they’re loved anyway. I’m pretty sure that would just mean that I’ll get slapped in the face a lot by random strangers. Not something I want to happen. And not the best way to tell someone about love, but I guess I don’t have any tact. Or a better word is manipulation. I’m awful at convincing people things. I’m terrible at explaining things. And I’m worse at trying to sell anyone anything.

If you strip away everything we’ve done–whether we think it’s good or bad–you still have a human in the midst of it. A person. An individual. No matter how saintly or corrupt we each are, we’re all still the same at our very core. And it is us, our souls, everything that we are minus the perceived good and bad that is worth saving.

Our generations are corrupted. Our generations are perverted. Our generations are disturbed.

Hell wasn’t made for humans. And although every single one of us deserves to go there–from the perceived worst to the perceived best (because there is none that is good)–we are worth saving. Every person is deserving of hell. It is because of grace that we are saved from hellfire.

The message is getting lost.

When I was young, I used to believe that the fallen angels were going to be saved. If God was good and He loves us and He also created them, why wouldn’t He love them too and save them since He is love? I was wrong. I didn’t understand back then. My understanding was clouded. Yes, God is love, but people often forget that He is also just. And most importantly, that He is not limited by our knowledge and understanding of Him. We want God to be whom and what we want Him to be and it just doesn’t work that way.

There are Christians now who still believe that the fallen angels would be saved. Just as there are Christians now who believe that in the end, every person will be saved–a sort of universal salvation.

Two days and I’m tired of writing. I’ll try it another time when I can get the right words to say what needs to be said.

 

 
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Posted by on June 24, 2014 in Diary

 

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“ordinary people can do monstrous things” — the story of Sidney Finkel, a Holocaust survivor

What is a monster? Who is a monster? Ordinary people can do monstrous things. Does that mean we are monsters? We are all capable of great evil. How do we justify someone else as evil when we can do exactly the same in their shoes? Human monsters are ordinary people just like us. By no means should we ever forget that because we can be just like them.

Scrapbookpages Blog

Sidney (Sevek) Finkel was born in Poland in December 1931. When he was 7 years old, Germany invaded Poland and his family was forced to live in a ghetto where 20,000 Jews were crowded into only 182 buildings.  You can read Sevek’s full story in an article in a Chicago newspaper here.  Finkel is now 80 years old and for more than 15 years, he has been educating 8th graders in America on the Holocaust.

The title of my blog post today comes from a line in the Chicago newspaper article in which Sevek tells the story of his sister Ronia and her new-born baby.  An ordinary German soldier threw the baby out of a second-story window and then shot Ronia.

How does Sidney Finkel explain this monstrous behavior of the German people?  This quote is from the newspaper article:

“People want to believe the Germans were monsters,”…

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Posted by on June 24, 2014 in Diary

 

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“No” Means “No”. How is That Misunderstood by Men?

When a woman says NO, she fucking means NO. How hard is that to understand?

***
Him: Hello. How are you ??? Thinking of you. Hope your day went well

Me: I’m good. Thanks. Hope you are too. Haven’t been around much, and not for very long or often. Hope you have a good night. ^_^

Him: You too. Thinking of you

Me: Thanks. I haven’t been feeling like talking to people lately. It’s all relative. I’m good. You’re good. Things are cool. Take care. ^_^

Him: I am here if you want to vent

Me: Thanks. But nah. I don’t really like to talk. I do when I get mad, but after that, I just think. So it’s my quiet time to think. Have a good night! ^_^

Him: You too thinking of you. Will you talk tomorrow ???

Me: Can’t say. Probably not. I don’t talk very much anymore.

Him: May i ask why not

Me: I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I don’t understand what’s so hard about that to understand. I want time to myself. I’m talking now, am I not? It’s about to aggravate me though. Maybe we should all just move on. Separate. Leave. Move on with our lives.

I think you think there’s something here that there’s not and I’m sorry if you feel some kind of way about me because I don’t have those kinds of feelings about you or anyone else.

I’m not even a halfway decent friend. And I will never be with anyone. So you should really just give up with the being cute and nice and considerate and move on. Go find yourself a great girl who lives in your neighborhood. Go date or something. Have fun.

Him: Why cant we be friends ??? I fail to see the harm in that and no i dont have feelings for you. I am not falling in love with you or any other emotion. Just want your friendship

Me: Because I don’t talk to you or anyone. That’s not friendship. You deserve and need people who will be friends, social people and not someone who only cares to say something once in a blue moon.

Him: You are a great friend. You are beautiful and intelligent and i enjoy our time together. What is so wrong with that

Me: We DON’T have any time together. I want you to know that. I don’t even spend time with my family and I live with them. Let alone people I don’t know very well. I just think that you really need friends who will actually be around and say more than two sentences to.

Him: We talk when i text.

Me: I reply with one sentence or a few….never this long. I don’t have the time, or patience, or ability to deal with others right now or at any moment in the near or foreseeable future. That’s not talking.

Him: I have already lost alot. Dont make me lose you too

Me: You can’t lose something you never had. And trust me, this isn’t going nowhere so it’s best if we just let go right now because there are many, many wonderful things waiting for you and you should never let anyone hold you back. I’m not good. And I will never be. And I will never meet you or anyone I know and met over the internet.

Him: Did not get that

Me: You’re making excuses and compromising. You’ve lost a lot. I’m sorry about that. Suck it up and keep moving. Life doesn’t end. I mean nothing to no one and I want to remain that way. Just let go and move on. No more texts. No more “thinking of you”. Let go. Move on with your life.

Him: Where is all this coming from

Me: Because we NEVER talk and I’m not ever going to talk. I don’t lead people on. I hate that. So I want you to let go of me because there was never anything here and you need something/someone/people who will actually participate in your life and let you in theirs.

Him: I wont give up on you.

Me: Why not? I’m not asking you to give up on me. I’m telling you to fucking let me go. Stop with the hopeful bullshit. The more you face reality, you’d realize that all the time you spent wasting on some stupid dream, you could’ve been living your life and being someone, being something. Go live your dreams. Hell, go do for you.

Him: Why are you doing this ??? We are friends we do talk and we do share whats going on. Where is all this coming from ??? You never had a problem with this before.

Me: No, we don’t talk. I’ve avoided you in the most nicest of ways I could from March. But you expect us to be friends. I’m sorry if I misled you that one day we did talk because I get stupid excited about meeting new people. It doesn’t mean that I ever stay in their lives or that they stay in mine.

Him: I wont give up. Bring your worst. We are friends and i never abandon a friend. Your request is denied.

Me: We’re NOT friends.

Him: Ok. I apologize for whoever hurt you but i am not the enemy here

Me: Take care. Stop living your life for pathetic people. Live it for you. YOU make your life worth something. You make it happy. No one else can do it for you.

Him: You are not pathetic. You are intelligent as well as beautiful. And seeing its my life then i choose to keep in contact with you. I never said i hurt you i said i apologize FOR WHOEVER hurt you.

Me: You don’t get it. No one hurt me. I don’t want to be friends with you. Sorry I read what you wrote wrong. It’s frustrating as shit when everything I say is ignored. Goodbye. Good luck.

Him: I am not ignoring you just wanting us to continue in the fashion we have been up till now. Ok. Text you tomorrow.

Me: Fuck. I don’t want to continue anything in any fashion with you. You’re fucking obsessed. Why? What the fuck did I do? I certainly didn’t fuck you so why can’t you understand that I’m saying NO. It’s fucking creepy for you to ignore me saying NO and for you to tell me you’ll still talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you.

Leave me alone. I will never reply back to you. Just let go of whatever fantasy you think this is. I’m tired of saying NO and being ignored. This is what is fucking wrong with men. I am okay. Don’t worry about me. No tomorrow. Goodbye.

Him: Fine whatever walk then i tried and tried but will not take this crap from the likes of you any longer.
***

Finally! Thank you! Geesh. WTF???

I don’t understand the creepy shitty things I have to deal with from people who…I don’t know what is going on in their heads. I know I’ve been stupid on being too nice with people and tolerating things…but I sure as hell do not have the time, patience, nor ability to deal with bullshit any longer.

Yes, I’m a bitch. I’d rather not have to be pushed to be one.

 
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Posted by on June 20, 2014 in Diary

 

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Memories of the Far Past

I’m so disappointed that OpenDiary.com killed itself and I didn’t get a chance to download my diary that I had kept faithfully every day for a decade or so.

I did manage to find copies of a diary I had on BraveJournal on the Internet Archive before I got all paranoid or something and deleted it. Diaries need webcrawlers to save them. *sighs* It was enlightening to read some of the stuff I wrote, thankfully, which had one save (saved 23 times between Oct 2005 and Nov 2013) which was before my diary ended up deleted by me with a simple message of, “It’s not safe to write anymore”. Gosh, what does that even mean? The things that were so important back then…they surely have changed now. Or have they?

Here’s a long, but interesting one.

Tuesday, September 6th 2005

3:50 PM

Multiple Me

I talked to Miranda a bit on msn. She asked my why I pretended to be nice when I really am not. A very good question. An even better one would be this: Am I pretending, or are you?

I’m not picture perfect. I’m more of a hell’s angel than an angel at all. However, I am both. I am nice but I am also not so nice. I never pretend to be. People only see what they want to see and they only believe what they want to believe.

She also asked why I would write about people I know in my journal. For one, it is MY journal. Just personal thoughts and opinions, silliness and serious stresses. Why would I not write about what happens to me on a certain given day? If it involved me, of course I would think about it and write it down. This journal is public property, owned by me of course, but yes, still public property. Everyone who wants to read can read, and everyone who doesn’t want to read…doesn’t have to read. It’s simple. The reason why I write about people I know is because the people I know involve me. I’m a selfish person. I wouldn’t care for you or yours unless it has something to do with me.

Nevertheless, I have interesting things to write about today! All dealing with my favorite topic – me! ^-^

For someone to read this journal would take a lot of time and patience. Not everything that is written seems to be all one person. At times, there seems to be multiple me’s where I write in different tones and styles and such. very much so like someone who may have a multiple personality disorder. However, this is all me. Just one of me. And is written at different moods and intervals and times and such. Each of this, each entry is a very tiny fraction of me.

So reading this journal and seeing how screwed up it is in writing, you would perhaps wonder at what kind of person I am. lol. My writings are very confusing, my thoughts are sporatic and my methods are frustrating. However, if you ever met me, if you ever got the chance to know me, you would wonder why I write as such when I am not seemingly harmful as such.

I am your average next door neighbor. Short girl, not too much extraordinary in anything. Draws and does artwork pretty well, not great, but average. Middle length hair, not too short, not too long. Nothing wild as hot pink or lime green but a dark burgundy red. I am pretty much a white girl (not white at all but light), not pale but white enough. I need a tan. lol. Chunky knuckles from excessive cracking and enlarged for the purpose of broader surface for hitting things. No temper tantrums. Very calm and laid back. Talks more than most but somehow would have you talking more than her. Nothing special about me. Nothing unique. No tattoos, no piercings (except one in each ear), doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs. Much of a homebody, you would rarely see me outside of my home. I wear pretty normal clothes. Nothing all dark and dreary but nothing all bright and cheery either. I wear pants. Most girls would. I don’t compensate for my lack of height with overly chunky heels (which I cannot run in) nor spiked heels of any length (even worse – think about falling because that spiked end got caught in a hole in the ground). I smile a lot. I laugh, I giggle. I have decent conversations, halfway intelligent at times when my memory doesn’t betray me. I’m cheerful. Nothing dark and depressing about me. I have fun. ^-^

Yet, what resides within my journal, the writings of such unbelievable things, some totally far fetched and some that seems impossible, what words come into play, what twisted imagination, what mood arises and falls like the ocean waves beating against the shore…all of this, none of this…how can any of this – be contained in that simple, normal girl with a normal life and nothing extraordinary to her name.

At times, I am a mirror. A doppleganger. The worst of me is only the worst of you, which I reflect and deal back to you. Whether I am aware of it or not, I do reflect others to them. I cannot explain it any more than that.

At times, I am a catalyst. I drop in at times of crisis, inflict changes, and go about my way. Whether these changes are good or bad, whether these changes are actually my doing or not, I do not have the answers to. I always seem to drop in at times of crisis and something happens, good or bad in someone else’s life that may not involve me personally. (It never seems to involve me personally.)

I am very empathetic. I am kind. I need no reasons for my kindness, my empathy and feelings. I need no motives to be nice. I just do the things I do, make the offers I make, without ever thinking twice of how benefiting someone else will benefit me. I am talkative and playful and I will help anyone and anything that I can.

I am also very cold. I am distant and I am intimidating. I do not talk to people and when I do, it doesn’t go well. I frustrate others and I don’t feel anything at all…emotions or whatnot. I have no motives, no drives, no reasons. I need none to be me. I am most destructive when I am cold and dead. And those who come at me during such times with whatever is on their mind is likely to find that they are not well received. I do not like ill company. I do not like company at all. I am cold and dead and hard. You will not find life in me and you will not find anything kind either. You will not be able to budge me and none of those who have been close to me enough can sense this, without seeing me. One does not need to know me to sense parts of me.

There are two ways that people will take me. You either will hate me or you will love me. But you will never feel indifferent about me. You may not remember me (which is wonderful because I like anonymity) but at the time being, that is what you will feel towards me. One of those two ways.

I am the easiest person to talk to, the hardest to know anything about that’s substantial, and my feet are never on the ground. I am a dreamer. One who is capable of not only dreaming, but bringing them into reality. This one. For all the world to see when the time comes for me to play.

I have different moods and I do get angry but my anger never lasts long and my moods are never present. I am good at hiding and keeping secrets. From you, from them, and even from myself.

I know my strengths, but I do not recall them. I know my weaknesses, but I do not recall them. I know my path, but I do not recall the way. I am aware, but confused. I am alive, but dead. I am just one, but many. I just am.

Why is it that no one ever listens to me? Then they start believing in whatever they feel like and when they fail or when something goes wrong, they turn right back to me and pushes it upon me. As if I gave them a life to begin with. Fix your own damn problems. You have nothing to offer me so don’t expect me to help you. Even if I said I would for the moment because it gave you hope and I merely toyed with you.

I am rude. And mean. And cold.

I am also polite. And kind. And warm.

In Michael’s guestbook, there was a question that I had never seen before. Ever. It said something along the lines of this: “What is your heart made out of?” My reply was simple. Automatic. “Darkness and Light.” That is what my heart is made out of, and that is a part of what I am made out of too.

For all of those you claim to be of a darker nature, for all of you who believes that you are evil and rotten inside…you can never understand because you do not know, that inside of each of us is not just light and not just dark, there resides both.

For all of those who want to show ME the dark side…*grins*…I hope you are ready. For if you fail, I shall show you something you may never have the chance to open your eyes and see again.

I need no motives, I need no reasons. I hide nothing. If you want to know, you would only have to ask. And ask the right questions it must be. Mostly, I help guide you to asking the right questions. But I am open. I am whole. I am here. And I am real. Just as real as you are.

And if you need for me to prove anything at all, then you are not worth my time. For those who know, would understand. And those who know, needs no proof to verify what is already known. ^-^

*   *   *

By the way, I didn’t know I scared Michael at times. lol. I tend to scare quite a few people.

My writings might sound jumbled and my thoughts – incomplete. But I am whole. And all this madness, is not madness to me. ^-^

Sometimes I wish I was nicer. Then at times, I wished I had the courage to walk away in the beginning because I knew it would be bad in the end. Thinking back on my life, I should’ve walked away from many people and many things: from Keera, from the Otherworld, from Shaun, from Jay, from Xyr. Shame on me. But I am learning now. It will be okay.

 
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Posted by on June 18, 2014 in Diary

 

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