This group of paragraphs is a little dark but hopefully essentially helpful to at least one other soul.

Woke up after sleeping in to the dream glimpse of a woman’s wildly angry and upset face. Her dark hair was flying; mascara dripped black from her eyes. Her botoxed mouth was twisted in a snarling grimace. Her contortion was upsetting and nightmarish. She chilled my loins; I couldn’t move.

I can’t shake the sense “she’s” really out there –this angry woman (or women), and I’ve greatly upset her with my thoughts posted on my website or in an email.

Besides a dream I had about women entrapping other women to feed to a powerful men’s collective –and then being turned on by another even more powerful woman, 2 past visions came to mind which I’ll first mention. Please be aware my entrapment dream might be disturbing.

The first was a meditation I had when I ‘visited’ the Snake G-ddess: As I was being borne by writhing snake bodies towards my blue glowing Orphic egg of self, of the snakes that carried me harmoniously, there was one that thrashed and bit.

In response, other ‘snakes’ (thoughtform entities) surrounded it gently forming a nest without actually touching or trying to change it- ‘holding space’ while it calmed.

Which it would, without further stimulation from whatever it was setting it off.

Feelings needed to be felt that are uncomfortable – until what caused them can be integrated or dispersed completely. Make arrows with your silver linings. Keep your ‘quiver’ close to you.

*

The second thing that I was reminded of was an experience I had visiting Hawi on the Big Island Hawaii. With my family, we’d hiked down the cliffs to visit the beach head near the valley where they’d buried Hawaii’s kings. After hiking a couple of miles to a clearing where there was no view of the ocean, making a picnic, and then slowly retracing our steps, I felt called to explore a small footpath that led south towards the sacred portion of the island.

As I stopped to sit quietly, alone, a foreboding presence came and clearly stated “Get out…you don’t belong!… You’re in danger.” (I’m white – so seen as inauthentic intruder.)

Telepathically, and in reality, I stood up to it and said, “I’m leaving now”, but “You need to be part of the (unity) solution too!”. I felt very emphatic, even righteous.

I then turned and regained my party. I didn’t twist my ankle.

Until then I’d not stood up to anything or anyone before but usually cower, take my licks, and slink away subserviently.

*

How does this bear on my angry tear-streaked woman?

As I understand her, she is a “king” (with title of “queen”) of her dominion and is angry b/c she’s feeling her efforts to be beautiful and powerful for her man – and the women she inspires, aren’t valued (by me).

She has spent her whole life following in the footsteps of her lineage, to serve as a standard and role model in outward compliance to what is valued by her society’s collective- youth and beauty. She masterfully teaches others to do the same.

In this she excels; she keeps undivided focus on keeping her waveform just right looking so.

This is a version of pure l’ove as she’s honed from all sorts of possibilities to take exactly what serves her.

She has a 15 step skin ritual; she goes to yoga. She believes, “it hurts to be beautiful” and undergoes needles and knives to prick and sculpt her into her ideal of beauty. Your mothers are proud.

If I had words for her, I’d tell her, “you’re doing exactly your dharma without compromise – at least until now”.

You’re fulfilling your mission which helps others aspire to be more beautiful themselves – and help their men to have even better winnings.

People are bettering themselves because of your inspiration.

There is no wrong in this – but now it’s your turn to shine and gain appreciation for being yourself.

And the body keeps score. All the sweat equity you’ve put into improving yourself will be repaid with attentions that you may or may not like as age feels like dis-ease and turns to i’ll-ness (illness).

Now you can be the head of your own totem pole – not just your man’s foundational support- though you’ll still be that too! You’re much more than your sculpted, botoxed, and tattooed self which spends hours following others’ directions and lie under them.

The world needs all versions of authentic kings and queens now – including yours- exactly as you are.

For advice I might further offer – make something of tangible beauty with your hands. Be patient while you get good at it. It will be of great value to both you and your descendants.

As far as my dream goes – we are the product of our lineage (at least until now).

As wo(e)-men, we remember the woes of a collective and judge when a wrong has been righted. We see the potential in our minions, and have been trained to turn on those outsiders not in our direct collective for our health and safety.

Until now, minions aren’t seen as equals or personally very valuable. They’re interchangeable. But really they’re gems. Sometimes it helps to see them in the right light.

*

In a dream where I was coerced to join a private party that turned out to be a gang rape (or maybe worse), my weakness in getting conned into ‘joining’ the room (which I luckily escaped from) was in 1) not having a buddy, 2) Not staying with the crowd and 3) feeling left out lowered my threshold for beguiling.

Of course there is my ‘blonde’ -light-being emotional body that would like to permanently silence and disempower my seeking beguiling being who ‘needs to make numbers’.

And I’m still dissociating from being with my creational, not re-creational triumvirate ‘male’ being(s). There were at least three there with another coming to join the party. None of them could revive her I’m afraid. maybe I’ll go back and ask the blond one, “tell me more?” and get a good look at her.

That the coercer was the one ‘punished’ (by receiving an injection to the neck by the other woman who was present- other than me) was shocking to say the least.

The dream took place in a stuffy Floridean ‘villa’ protected by police who do a rich man’s bidding. The police were/are all on his payroll. There’s no easy getting away.I wasn’t sure even if I escaped from the scenario, if I could actually get home again.

(The blond stuck her on the right side – focusing a needle a sharp Martian weapon – to inject substance into her neck. programming her? to change words from her desiring, ‘effort self’.

And, the ‘blonde’ has been lying back in her favorite recliner chair letting the other one do all the work. Accepting anything that comes her way in the name of l’ove and intimacy….) At least until now that is. All is Inshallah!