Tag: Poetry

Dreamin…

Wiwohka3 Comments

I think that dreams say a great deal about who we are… on the inside. Before you start preparing for some kind of mental health episode of some sort, I’ll leave that to the professionals, thank you very much! My thoughts and considerations will be looking at our character, our personality, or we can label as our true self, if you will. As I always tend to do, let me explain what I meant by my initial statement.

First off, I want to break dreaming into two categories here, one being a waking daydream, while the other is a sleeping dream. Waking daydreams are the ones in which we control the dream in its entirety. Obviously, the sleeping dreams are when we’re not awake, therefore we have no conscious control of what goes on in our dream, nor any control of the outcome… we just gotta ride it out, so to speak.

When I write these thoughts out, I’ve no intention of trying to figure others out, based on their dreams! I guess I’m writing out something that I’ve discovered about my own personality and tendencies, that’s all. Some say that they don’t really dream much, while others dream often and deeply… people like me.

Being a child from trauma, I sought fantasies and daydreams from a very early age, as a way of safety or escape, if you will. To this day, I can vividly remember things from those years, most especially the dreams and recurring nightmares that I experienced. Weird, right?!

Anyway, I had one of my re-run daydreams from when I was small, just the other day. As I was thinking on the memory of my dream, I noticed something sort of funny about myself, or, the way that I saw myself in the daydream. It made me want to look back through some of the other dreams, just to see if I did that in all of them. Guess what I discovered? I did, in fact, see myself in a particular way, when it was a sleeping dream and another way when it was a daydream… just two starring roles… two!

In every waking dream that I created, I cast myself as the assistant, the helper, the heroin through heavy lifting! I was either Charlie instead of Willie Wonka, or the Mad Hatter instead of Alice, or the child who helped Dr. Doolittle. Even to this day, I never see myself as the heroin or hero in anything… always, always, always, I dream myself behind the scenes. In my stories, it feels better to focus on my desires for the cast members in the tale. I think that’s why I prefer you to see me through Tilly, Eustace, or any of this site’s characters when I write. They seem to capture who I am, there within the pages of their stories.

The sleeping dreams are a far different representation of how I saw myself back then, and even now, today. That little girl only experienced the nightmare portion of the dreams, for many, many years. I was a frequent bed wetter, and struggled with severe anxiety. I had no one to talk to, no one to comfort or rescue me from my hell. I’m sure that this is why my waking dreams were so intense and real to me. I even learned how to wake myself out of my night terrors. I actually began to flip myself from my bed and onto the floor, so as to force myself awake. That child was always running, fighting and/or in pain during those dreams. Over the years, I changed in appearance as I grew into a woman, wife, and mother, but I still continued to be the victim… or the villain. Yes, I even saw myself become the villain, but what could I do? I had no control, there in the depths of my darkness.

Ok, no more of that part, as it’s not who I am now! Now? God holds my dreams in the palm of his hand, shielding and comforting me through anything I may experience during my sleep, which is now rarely more than a goofy recap of what I’d watched on television the night before. It’s funny, because the transformation within this wild child has been miraculous, to say the least!

Waking daydreams are now filled with a purpose, not my own, but of one who is so much greater!

Night dreaming is no longer a place of fear, but of peace, protection, and security!

I’ll not forget the child of my past, no no, as she is the one who survived!

I’ll not forget the lost wild one, for she is full of fiery spirit, and tenacity!

While I may not ever be a hero of anything special, Charlie did end up with the factory, so that children would hold onto their dreams!

That child who followed Dr. Doolittle… they carried on the doctor’s work to care for others, whether it was a Push-Me-Pull-Me or the captive sea lion… always the less fortunate!

What do I daydream about now? I dream that everywhere I go… I smell like cookie dough, pulling children’s imaginations along with me, just like the pied piper! For all the rest of you… I pray that I leave a trail of cookie crumbs in my wake… get it, wake… hehehe!

Beginning, Again…

Wiwohka14 Comments

Reaching land after being at sea for such a long time can be like standing upon the sand, as the sea pulls the waters back into the depths. It feels like you’re moving while standing still, as the sand moves beneath your feet. I stand upon the shore of a new land (sort of), having nowhere to go, but forward into the unknown. It feels both exciting and confusing, as you’ve no idea what’s beyond your vision, or where the path will lead.

We’ve spent the last five years living in the same small space, climbing over one another, and putting one foot in front of the other… adrift in uncharted waters!

We’d forgotten how to live without constant and immense pressure, pushing at us from all directions; often forcing us to move fast, while leaving everything behind! When you live for so long with little on hand, you become accustomed to letting things go, and/or making due. I am a bit shocked at how much that was lost along the way to this particular shore. For goodness sake, I haven’t had a vacuum cleaner for five years, let alone a working oven, or a working toilet (that was only in the last year and a half). I guess, my point here would be that I feel a bit lost and out of sorts, when it comes to living like a normal person.

I will be taking another week off from writing, in order to focus on rest and recovery from a very costly time at sea. The physical toll it has taken on us this time has been costly, so rest and recovery are the priority, at the moment. Spring quarter will begin for my husband in less than 2 weeks, so he’s going to be getting his first taste of college without the pressure of homelessness and loss hanging over his head all the time, thank goodness! He’s nearly there, with only spring and summer left on this degree. It’s incredible how well he has done in the midst of such turmoil, and I’m so very proud of his commitment to finish… and finish well!

Me? I have another book to write, but first, it’s time to put the first one out there…

It’s time, wouldn’t you agree? If God deems it time, then I’ve no doubt that it will be done. I shall enter this new part of the journey with the grace, faith and confidence given my by my Creator, going wherever I’m called to go. I’ve always loved a good adventure, how about you?!

F.Y.I. , these new shores are quite beautiful from where I’m standing!

Let’s explore together…

Tuesday’s Tinkering…

Wiwohka4 Comments

You didn’t think that I’d forgotten about our missing little ant, did you?

Not a chance! Do try to keep in mind, however, finding an itty bitty little ant in the forest is far from easy. I had all the little ones out searching the woods frequently throughout each day; calling out her name, in the hopes that it might lead her back to the new farm house. I took it upon myself to make another visit to her family, being sure to leave her a message that include directions to our new location. Aside from that, all we could do was wait, and hope.

Even in the darkest of nights, when all seems lost to us, there is always hope!

As I sat the kitchen of our farm house this morning, quietly enjoying my first needed cup of coffee, my thoughts were suddenly disrupted by the distinct smell of cotton candy, floating in through my window. It surprised me so much that I nearly dropped my coffee in my lap! No, I wasn’t surprised that the the air was deliciously fragrant, just because of the candy smell. That would be silly, don’t you think? There are a myriad of glorious smells floating through the forest, at any given moment, and in any given season!

My surprise at the smell of cotton candy goes much deeper than just a yummy breeze, but you may or may not recall the reason, so I’ll explain. For those of you that don’t remember, there was a strong smell of cotton candy in the air, on the very day that miss Lilly first floated into our barn. Now, it probably makes a great deal more sense, as to why I nearly dropped my coffee when I noticed the air… I smelled Lilly!

I don’t know what most people smell when ants are around, but our little girl smells just like cotton candy! I jumped up out of my chair and ran out the back door, as fast as my legs could carry me, scanning the meadow from one side to the other! Seeing nothing with my eyes, I decided to try following my nose.

There, amidst the dandelions in the meadow, sat a strangely familiar looking creature…

Yes, anyone who knew her from the beginning will recognize those beautiful eyes…

Even if I’d been confused about the eyes, when the tiny ant began smiling at me… it removed all doubt from my mind! She may have gone a bit wild ant/bunny on us while out in the wilderness, but it’s still our Lilly! You try braving the wilds all by your onesie’s, and then let’s see what you look like when you finally get home. I know that I’d probably look a mess, to say the least…

Sorting…

Wiwohka10 Comments
Daily writing prompt
What part of your routine do you always try to skip if you can?
View all responses

I really had no good answer for the prompt this morning, so I peeked into my prompt archives, in hopes of remembering what I’d said last year. I’m rather glad that I looked, though I never did locate last years response. Oddly, I rolled across a response that wasn’t attached to any specific prompt, but it felt somewhat relevant to this mornings query.

From November of last year,

… When it comes to being a writer, I’ve mentioned before how I like to answer the prompts because they help me to think outside of my writing box, if you will. I can write about things I normally wouldn’t, and often dabble in poetry or other forms of writing that aren’t my usual style. I try to stretch myself as a writer, so that I can develop a deeper skill and literary depth, for writing that which is in my heart.

Thinking outside the box has been an adage used for far greater a time, than even I can remember. It’s a fantastic analogy for more than just writing, as it comes into play in every corner of our internal processing. In every part of us there are boxes of beliefs, boxes of opinions, boxes of hurts, boxes of memories, and boxes of behaviors… all of which eventually get full, or sometimes hold nothing at all. What do we do with them all, when there is no more room to even cross the floor, without walking on or stepping in differing boxes to get there?

On the flip side, what if the room were vacant with no boxes at all? Humans need boxes to navigate the crossing of the room to the doorway in the corner.

Boxes are just boxes, quite benign. They’re neither good or bad… just useful, in sorting through life’s experiences. However, what we do with the box, is a whole different ball of wax!

Do we seal them up with packing tape, pushing them to the sides of the room to be forgotten? What if there’s something useful we may need later? Just in case, we might take a sharpie and put a label on the box like, *Remember me when you are ready to throw in the towel*. We seem to live in some of our boxes, refusing to come out and cross the floor, finding comfort and safety in the familiar surroundings of things unchanged by outside forces. The flap on these boxes are worn, tattered and torn… no longer able to be completely closed. Neither of these two extremes is very healthy.

That is where thinking outside the box comes into play… maybe even evolving into something like Navigating the Ins and Outs of Boxes. For this we need tools… mental, emotional and spiritual tools. I wandered for most of my literary life, existing for the most part, sealed inside boxes of my past… one that couldn’t be altered or undone, no matter how long I hid myself within those boxes.

I sort of think that our painful journey over the last 4 years, actually tore the lids off all my boxes… forcing me to come out into the light. Had things not gone badly, as they did, I would still be sitting in my recliner, there in Virginia, over 100 lbs. heavier, completely doped up on medications, and so hopelessly depressed that suicide was actually looking good, and I am not being flippant!

Fast forward to now, living the way we do and writing the way I currently have been, I can say with certainty that my writings would not be possible, nor could they even have been born into my imagination… were I still back there in that old recliner (box).

I like living freely… skipping from one box to another, moving items from one hidden corner, and bringing them out into the light to organize and sort through for the useful stuff, even though sometimes I don’t feel like expending the effort.

For me personally, living this way has brought that which I had sought for all my days… Joy in the Journey… I found it!

Nothing worth having is easy, and putting forth the effort (routine) is what makes all the difference in the world!

Here, enjoy a cookie…

Barnyard Business…

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The mood around the barnyard has been rather sad, as of late, due to the sudden departure of Squagon. Earlier this week, as I sat studying in my office, a thought occurred to me, regarding our guests within the rafters.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe that the arrival of our Twilight Dreamers, as I like to call them, occurred suspiciously around the time of Squagon’s kin disappearing from Acorn Valley!

Right about the time that I sent Brutus to start searching for them, young Squagon began having bad dreams, often waking in tears. The tiny squirrel’s nightmares were the reason I’d gone and sought answers from the Holy Rollin Ravens, if you recall the musical and cryptic song they offered up.

There were a number of nights that I simply slept in the barn, as the squirrel’s night fears began to spread like a sickness through the barn, causing quite a disturbance among the rest of the babe’s. No one was getting much sleep, including myself, what with all the crying and asking for a juice cup!

It seems to me, like, right about that time, we discovered our little guests appearing up in the barn’s rafters. Oddly, as soon as they showed up in our midst… the nightmare’s of each babe, began to subside and fade away. All that is, except for young Squagon, who still continued to suffer within his little dreams, though not as badly as before.

Anyway, I’m still digging into my memories of that time, to seek a number of answers that are yet missing, regarding the connection between Squagon and our little dreamers. Nothing worth knowing is ever that easy, so I’m still studying.

When I say studying, what I really mean is observing. I know little about these small flying creatures, but one of the first discoveries was their sleep schedule…

Why do you think I’ve begun calling them TWILIGHT dreamers? Yup! They are nocturnal, or awake during our sleep time, if that helps. What this means for me… a great deal more coffee than usual, that’s for sure!

I’ve set myself a schedule of observing their activities for several hours each night, while the babe’s are all dreaming… and yes, that’s where I chose the Dreamer portion of describing our guests. Early on in their stay with us, I noticed that these little things are the most active during the time when the babe’s are sleeping.

The strange little creatures spend much of their wakeful hours, busily flying silently overhead of my little ones sleeping hidey holes. What are they doing, you might be wondering? Well, I was wondering the same thing, so I camped myself in the corner of the barn for an entire night, just watching and listening.

Guess what these little things do all night? While they flit to and fro across the barn, occasionally hovering over one babe or another, these little dreamers are singing softly, sometimes even praying tiny little prayers of comfort and rest. In case you were wondering, they are rather quiet, even when they are singing.

I had to put ear phones in and listen through a high powered recording device, just to hear them.

I’ve still so many unanswered questions, as I’m sure you do too, but only time and continued studying will truly uncover all there is to learn. What I can tell you is that I’ve begun getting to know one of these little night flyers. She caught my eye, right from the beginning! I compare her to popcorn, because everyone knows how popcorn in the microwave can make the whole room smell yummy! That is Beatrice!

I’m still getting more familiar with my new friend, so you’ll have to wait until next week to learn more of her, along with her kin. I think that I may have struck gold with Beatrice, as I think she may be the eldest, and possibly the most knowledgeable of the bunch!

While I will be sharing everything I discover, if you have any suggestions or first impressions about all this, I welcome the help!

Ta Ta, for now…