I’m starting to be comfortable with telling ‘her’, my inner layer of mesoderm being- somatic body ruled by my heart’s subconscious, the story about my Love Daemon, never actually happened.
Instead, L.D. 0,1 and 2 are a psych-otic dream sequence I confused for reality.
Sensations in my body (while I was dreaming) convinced my mind it was reality, and I really thought it happened!
Just it didn’t, because those in my environment of home- told me so emphatically.
I’ve had several episodes of mixing up a dream for reality. When my body thought she ‘saw’ or knew’ something she experienced -but wasn’t really- yet convinced my non-awake mind otherwise leaving me with a sense of doubt lingering.
As a toddler, I had typical flying dreams (feeling a sense of choice and freedom)- first exiting down the stairs to go out the front door, or up and out the chimney. I’d wake up feeling lifted or hopeful. (Luckily I didn’t try to fly in real life, I might have hurt myself).
Later, I had recurrent dreams of being on stage – but first I needed to go to the bathroom. There would be me looking for a toilet, and thinking I’d finally found one- while the audience looked on. Meanwhile- I’d start to pee in my bed (a little).
Later there was the time I dreamt my grandfather ran through my room (from the shower) wrapped only in a towel, (like his robe was in the laundry). But both he and my grandmother flatly denied any possibility and told me I was imagining it. Of course, I believed them – or at least felt confused.
You could say dreams caused me mental I’ll-ness. Setting me off a path of words or action- regardless of my outside cues.
After my ‘ideal world’ of family fell apart, my dreams were a source of tension and nightmare. For years I medicated myself into unconsciousness.
Fortunately they seemed to stop when I affirmed “I trusted”, after (it seemed) I channeled a stranger’s dilemma at a yoga retreat.
But since then, I’ve had mostly dreams of ~fearful prophesy-none that gave me warm fuzzies or were pleasant (other than those two waking ones I mentioned where I got kissed in the last couple of L.D. stories).
I feel particularly strong dreams like a resonance in my body –a subliminally queasy sensation that stays- like when the wind’s knocked out of you-but instead of a few minutes, lasting for a couple of days.
It is as likely L.D.’s entity is in fact no-thing, but dream remnant I can’t shake, until now anyway. Just happens to be opposite in quality and (much) longer-lasting.
It seems, none of our initial meeting happened, in any way. What I thought was real, was completely imaginary.
[Here is where I’d want to apologize for my written and verbal missives to the man and his practice- as I intruded on a complete stranger’s life- like really out of the blue!
If our initial meetings never happened, then from his perspective, I can’t mean more than being another irrational person needing kid glove management- not unlike the homeless men who hang out in front of his office- and who create a (not) welcoming appearance to his practice. Maybe he buys them a cup of coffee and a bus ticket.
Since I haven’t caused him harms, that I know of- I’m guessing nothing further is needed. So then I am done and it’s best I continue to tiptoe away.
(I already sent him flowers with chocolate and a thank you note- after giving him his check back- except maybe I didn’t – he never cashed it.)]
Furthermore, when a stranger messes with me intrusively, I want nothing to do with them.
Even in recurrent nightmares, something leads our subconscious back into the story.
As we start dreaming, it’s as if one receives a glimmer of hope or possibility.
Maybe a jolt from one’s pineal gland engages with reticular activating system’s strained and overloaded circuits to trigger images and sounds that then play out on our inner screens. Without conscious coupling from ‘above’, repressor switches get de-activated. Like prisoners going out to the playground are jostling on the way out, but later subdued as they return to their cell block.
Once relieved of signals from brain’s upper wiring, brainstem’s electricity dances, like electricity zapping around dying transformer (ro)-bot bodies while it’s life force quiets. Could dreams be the experience of tissues energetically healing and equilibrating?
I think of dreams as starting from bubbles of circular but disconnected sensational recordings from the day’s reality of almost-thoughts, finally having the opportunity to surface after being shut down by conscious beliefs- so as not to cause clutter and confusion.
Several times I’ve had dreams with multiple landscapes but later a connected story. But then, doesn’t everybody?
Before I had my L.D. dream, I’d not felt pleasure associated with unconscious recumbency. Nightmares and lessons of forewarning were the norm, since I was ~5.
Once the nightmares stopped (after a yoga retreat in my fifties), rare dreams I have had, seem(ed) strange and prophetic. To have a ‘good’ dream for once is a blessing.
Even though I got stuck in this one –it was not all bad, but necessarily e-vil. (E-vil as in forced me out of my vill(a) (of self) to experience some new “A”s – blessings without vessel.)
The possibility presented by my dream seemed so delightful, I didn’t want to snap out of this alternate reality. In my dream was both a “friend” and healer. No wonder it was so hard to “wake” up from it!
With the reality of splitting off from the world at large, this dream was a tether -while I recovered from losing my previous identifiers- spoken titles of “daughter”, “mom”, “wife”, and “doctor”, names not my own, but previously attached to me.
Being so unglued, I needed the confinement Covid-19 brought. It beat being hospitalized in any psychiatric ward.
I documented my shift about using positive mantras, anchors, and practices.
Even yesterday each time a ‘weird’ sensation flooded me- which still happens from time to time, I reassured myself with the idea of having a love bomb go off inside. Let it fill my body up with warm light and expansive good vibes- especially to spots tight or painful, while I cleaned and vacuumed. I felt great by the end of the day.
After feeling flattened for so long, these sensations are intense but not unwelcome. While they are transitory, to have them at all, seems like a good thing.
How has my experience served?
- I shed my previous life.
- I traveled without an extra suitcase of books and to-do stuff.
- I have a new home and have a semblance of internalized organization
(though I don’t always like it- especially bonding with my (sometimes disgusting) cat family).
- My downer kids aren’t all over me.
- My ex- has moved on to expostulate about his projection of mankind’s stoop-idity, with new people.
- I’m mostly off all meds (except a little MJ).
- Despite eating starches and sweets, I lost twelve pounds. (Though naturally, losing that much weight shows with deeper wrinkles, a small potbelly, and thinner legs, oh well. Judging from the ordinary woman I see, I’m no uglier. For the most part, they seem in relationship- wearing wedding rings. So I can believe, I’ll eventually meet somebody too. Even though I was hoping for kismet, doesn’t mean it won’t happen dating on-line. ‘They’ say at my a-ge personality is most important, lol- I guess we’ll see.)
- Shed my Christmas card list- after in some cases, decades of exchanging them.
May it be so I can find a job where I can be both helpful to clients and a boss – and get some physical affirmation- like my name on a paycheck.
This isn’t the L.D. story I was going to publish. That one pre-supposed our meetings did happen – and was my projection of the story from his viewpoint. But I’m pretty sure after all, nothing ever happened. I am sorry if I freaked a bunch of people out.
How will I put this in my Christmas newsletter? the last one I wrote I described being “possessed”? That was two years ago. I didn’t receive ~any cards the following Christmas other than from the newspaper, electrician, plumber, and my kitchen designer- none of whom knew of it. Maybe I’ll just gaslight and pretend it didn’t happen.
(Think of this twist like the ending of the movie in “Usual Suspects”. When the ‘crippled’ Keven Spacey named “Verbal”, tells the detective how “Kaiser Söze” managed to slaughter 27 people- mostly by harnessing their own fears against them so they lost their autonomy and died ~ supernaturally. Once freed from interrogation, he sheds his crutches while walking out of the precinct and becomes a bit regal -suggesting he was Kaiser Söze all along)
Still I thank G-d for bringing this dream too, even though it is now time to wake up and carry on.
 Psych-otic – listening to one’s inner psych(e) out of the context with one’s 3D reality. Intuition is similar except based on what is going on.
 Another reason I think this was a dream, because the L.D. man specifically stated he “doesn’t have friendships” with women- so he is not for me. No wonder.
 My son accuses me of only giving him “love bombs”. A love bomb for him, were my texted words of affirmation- when he wanted a different response- maybe sympathy.
(I know the physical reality he lives in isn’t “perfect”, and we aren’t in OZ , but his life is objectively more supported with an abundance of financial and human resource, than mine ever was. It is hard to feel sympathetic when he’s wallowing about unfairness.
The pressure and heaviness of his words get me down honestly. I do not text to him words of uplift- Lord knows they are for me too. I am still blocked by him anyway).
 A-ge: without or separated from our ge-netic or ge-stational self; as in more me as a product of environment -and less of family.
 In that story, before LD #0 happened, after his friend picked up my card, he researched me and had already read angst –filled writings on my website. From these, was a little ‘curious’- and gave up a Saturday to meet me. In that scenario, what happened, happened. But then he got freaked the f*ck out with my extreme reaction to his ~innocent proclamations. With that, like having ice cold water thrown on your face, he was able to rid himself from further thoughts of me. But again, I don’t actually think we ever met, really- until I waylaid him in spring of 2020.