Fairies.........by Julianna Rowe

I passed a hidden path today on my way to work.  I stopped, parked, and walked to it for some pictures. It reminded me of a movie I have among my stash of movies, and on the cover of that movie were the words, this is "The Truth." In the movie, two little girls find a hidden pathway behind their home in England, leading to a creek and a secluded pond. At the hidden place there were real live fairies. And I love fairies. 

When I was a small child I always dreamed of having my own little person. I would be very creative in finding ways to dress the little person, bathe the little person, find a bed and mattress, chairs and food! I was very good at this within my mind. Right down to making a home made toothbrush. And here was the secret path to the fairy of my youth. My own little person to love and take care of. 

Maybe that is why when I grew up I wanted 10,000 children of my own. I didn't get quite that many, but close. 

So back to the secret path.  Maybe not so secret, and maybe totally close to rush hour traffic and a huge University Hospital and so on, but to me it took me way back to a time when I had one little person to take care of and find creative ways to love, feed, dress, build furniture for, and the best part is no one knew about it but me. There was no interference. How lovely is no interference when you live in a severely controlled environment.  I wonder where the imaginary real fairy person of my mind is today? I know it is fine because I took explicit care of it until one day it disappeared just like I will someday. See, fairies are for real just like the movie said!  

Maybe I am one of them. 

Don't Pee on My Head and Tell Me it's Raining..by Julianna Rowe

That's right. Don't pee on my head and then tell me its raining! (Seems to be Judge Judy's favorite saying... She's not my idea of fair and decent though. More like dramatic and showy.) So unlike me, WHAT? And that's her paycheck so...it is what it is. I heard that phrase on some talk radio show the other day and at first I laughed and then I thought about it. And you know when I think it can become serious. Either a terrifying "true fiction" right out of the bowels of my brain, or a silly blogpost. I have always heard the older you get the less you care about what people think or say. Not "sa" sure! I flip flop on that one. Like I lose my patience with liars and cons and salespeople are the funniest. I have seen and heard every diff type of salesman because I have been around a long time. The faces change but the pitch doesn't. And I was one of the best in my day so there you go on that score. So I think I am smart? Yup I do! But I don't like anyone throwing dirt on my space and thinking its alright. Society has really changed since I was a young one. Do you remember when there used to be something called an "Accident." Now everyone is guilty and the more the better. There is allot of this peeing on everyone else's head and or legs and or space and it comes very systematically and politically correct! Feds pay prisons good money for those not so guilty people that had those "not so much" accidents! I could go on regarding many other little lion shops like doctors are now accountants blah blah blah. Gladiator days with lions of a different species is what I call it. And who can lie the best wins. In court, at the "cop shop," in the military, in our government, at school, at work. Amazing. It used to be just cons and bad people that did it. Now its 75% of our
P O P, population! But I still wont tolerate anyone peeing on my head and telling me its raining. As for age and patience... who said that anyway? Now where's my little black dress so I can get on with this honest, kind, and happy day! I make it a point to dodge the yellow rain.

flickr.com/photos/voight-kampff/414487631

Intuitive Mountain? by Julianna Rowe

I awoke to a severe deep burning pain in my right leg.  Leaping out of bed only to exacerbate the intensity is something I have learned to live with over the past couple of years.  Actually I think one of my muscles was interacting with what had just happened to me in some far away place where dreams occur.  Because they do occur and it is real and there has to be a place for them.  Maybe over the rainbow or maybe wherever we chose them to be...  China....who knows.  I just  know I was at one of those places this evening.

As I came from the "rest" room, (why anyone ever named it that is beyond me.)  Finishing the activities of the "rest" room I exited into the small sometimes narrow corridor leading back to the place of my more recent dream that seemed to have truly happened.  I stood in the dark of that narrow corridor suddenly reliving each scene like it was a movie I watched a few hours ago....Standing there frozen in time, hearing only the roaring sound of the propelling fan I use to muffle the sounds of the night and maybe the sounds of those far away places we go in our sleep. Nevertheless, I had gone off again to China or wherever, and there in the corridor all alone were the memories and the sinking fears of it.  Frozen. Why not just keep walking? It was after all only a dream. It wasn't real, was it?.  Oh yes it was.  I had left home on foot walking to some unclear but sure destination.  And as always there were cliff drop offs to raging waters of death far below...and then road came to an end for me. I pondered turning left and then right and eventually full circle only to find no where to go.  That is when I heard a sound from above.  I looked up to see the road actually continued but at an almost 90 degree angle. One tree, one vehicle, and a back pack was all that was in sight and that was a ways up the steep gravel embankment that was my new impending goal. Starring at it my thoughts were again frozen along with my body and any movements that might need or want to take place.  I had come this far and now I stopped dead in my tracks.  Scared to nearly death! Then a man come walking down the gravel towards me with his hand outstretched. 

He said, "Where you off to Missy?"  I said, "I have to get to Janesville for a job."  

He motioned for me to come on with him, he would get me there.  I hesitated for what seemed some crazy earthly reasoning that was certainly out of character in this time and place. He might harm me or worse, this man from no where sleeping in his car on the side of a very tall and, for me, unreachable, unattainable stretch of road I needed to travel.  So, I took his hand and with great ease he moved me forward toward his old car.  The car was from another era also. Seems we all met at this one particular rendezvous that was predestined for just this one nights stage called a dream. Who was he? How did I know the car and when was it a part of my life? Why couldn't I walk it?  The road wasn't steep for the man.
We drove for a long time down and around winding roads and past waters. They didn't seem as frightening as when I walked them.  I do "wonder" if my own mind didn't cause the roads to narrow, the rocks to fall, the inclines steeper and the waters deeper than in true reality. Who was that man? Was he God? Or was he an Angel sent to show me an easier way then the one I had been treading?  Maybe he was my Great Grandfather.  Wouldn't that be cool. No. That is only cool if you get to know it was him. I think it was. Not the Great Great Great G that murdered his wife child, but the one that owned a large farm and gave my Father his first nice car.  His name was G-Grandfather Heiny. I know, what a name to be stuck with.  Yup, I pick him.  Whoever he was he got me to my job in Janesville all safe and sound. The job is another story from beyond...  to be continued. We all have our mountains, dont we?  I have never worked in Janesville by the way. 

Halloween. Grabbin' Some Candy! by Julianna Rowe

Sometimes among the hum drum days of life, something pops up and walks right thru your front door and gives you a great big giant laugh! That is what this is all about. Halloween... The kids next door always do Halloween in a grand manner as is obvious here. And I am the picture taking Mom so I offered up my talents. Back to the kids....they are all in their twenties.  The CSI Agent Female lives in the complex I resided in.  The scary clown is a roofer and her brother, the Mario Brother is Luigi, don't know what he does outside of Halloween, Dan just wanted to continually pull the trigger on his play gun which was annoying and in some way sinful and scary. He made it too real with his other mannerisms.  Dan is in construction and just found out he has testicular cancer. And then there is Jake who is the CSI Female's boyfriend in the hospital gown with the shiny buttocks!  Jake is a truss builder man. They were headed to a party and then to the Nationally recognized Halloween State Street Campus Yearly drunk out and street party.   Hopefully these kids made it home. Don't know because I slept like a baby rock.  No one called for jail pictures so I ass-u-me they all made it.  Hope so cause the dog needs to go out.  Me, I jumped in one of the pics with my flowered house dress (mumu), no make-up, and sandals...just on a whim.  Luigi got scared I think.. It appears as though I am not only touching Jake's shiny buttocks, but gently handling Luigi's package....I WAS NOT of course.  My hand was in the air and accidentally although appropriately placed strategically close is all. 

Iraq: Part II "Foreign Exchange Sales Teams"...... by Julianna Rowe

 Part II continued:   Iraq:  

Back in my room I secretly longed to be in the heart and arms of that man, Ari. Was this the reason for my journey? What now? As I lay thinking of his touch I passed into sleep. The next day I awoke to believing it must all be a dream stemming from the magnificent surroundings of the Hotel with its majestic interiors of gold and grand food. Maybe I had eaten something that caused these deliriums. Yet there was Ari to greet me with a gentle good morning. In his own language he called me his beautiful woman. Again, we lay for some time bathing in one an other's love. Later that day I began thinking how could this work? Then I didn't care, I just knew it would.

The limousine came for our team the day we were to fly back to America.  Ari was supposed to meet me with a plan for our future, but he did not.  I couldn't find Ari. I was frantic with search, yet I had to leave. My visiting pass was up which meant if I stayed, I would be held in contempt of travel and detained in a foreign country by its officials. 

Ari, where are you? We must plan, Ari, Ari.

As the plane took off my eyes welled with a flooding mixture of agonies. The pain, loss, sadness, and despair were almost unbearable. Did he use me? No. That was not what we had! Yet I didn't hear from Ari for three months. I left sales and went into a different small scale home business. I had lost my boldness and drive and I was not the same sales leader and business woman. Ari's love removed, left a deep scar on my heart. It touched every part of my life as love truly does for without it I felt I had lost so much, and I was without it.

My Mother saw I wasn't the same as before my trip to Iraq. She inquired as to my duress and I relayed to her my story. She asked me if I had tried to contact Ari. I had. The lines of communication to Baghdad were very limited. I had also tried writing with no response. I told Mother I would even wear the Berta if necessary, to be with Ari. Mother was in shock. She left my house that day rather speechless as she realized the extent of my desires, but what could she say? I had fallen deeply in love with a gentle man from Iraq, who was missing.

About a week later my doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. I answered the door and almost sank to the floor when I saw Ari standing before me. I jumped into his arms and we held tightly to one another for a long time. I didn't even think to say, Why? Where? What? Nothing. I just held to him. He told me he needed heart surgery and had come to America to have the surgery which was tomorrow. He told me he would return for me. He wouldn't let me ask any more questions and he walked away after assuring me he would return and when he did, he would explain everything. I had regained my trust in him although I didn't understand why I couldn't be with him through his surgery and recovery.  Iraqi men do not argue, they tell you the way it will be and you listen.  Not that they are harsh, rather Ari was unemotional and able to weigh situations in a more businesslike yet loving manner.  Seemingly he knew the outcome and how to best attain it. I trusted him for some unknown earthly reason.

Ari returned after his healing time. He ensured me the love we shared had gotten him through with no complications. When he came to my door he came with hundreds of gifts. Beautiful gifts for my family and friends. It was bigger than Christmas. It was almost as magnificent spiritually as the Hotel where I met him in Iraq. Ari pulled me to him and told me of his undying love for me. He told me either I come with him to his country now this day, or he would return in January to be with me in my country. I was speechless. This man I had met six months ago was sickly and frail with unkempt hair. Our love had transformed him spiritually and physically as it had me. I was looking at a stunningly handsome deep tanned man with clean cut hair and deep loving dark eyes. I guess my friends Mother was right. Those men do love women with blonde hair and a bit larger derriere.

I asked Ari to give me a few minutes to think how to arrange things.  I walked into another room while Ari patiently waited. 

Suddenly in front of me what seemed like from nowhere was a very beautiful Iraqi woman holding the hand of a small child.  She stared at me with the exact same eyes as Ari did the first time I saw him at the feast in Iraq. All I could think or see in her was Ari. Did he have a wife already? Was that her? Oh Lord God of all, please lead and guide me here. She never spoke, only looked deep in my eyes as Ari did. The child seemed quite content and quiet playing on the floor. At that moment I knew I had to fight for what I wanted and that was Ari. No matter who she was.  I was about to leave her and the child and run back to Ari in fear when she walked over and put her hand on my arm while looking into my soul with appreciation and a kindness that wasn’t of the earth. She smiled and gave my arm a squeeze of approval.  I felt love from her.  Who in the name of God was that woman in my living room?  Yet I felt no fear.  I turned toward the room where I had left Ari, looked back at her and the child, but they were gone.  Where did they go?  Where did they come from? My thoughts were I would deal with her later and believed she left out the back way. I was so emotional due to Ari’s showing up out of the blue I dismissed her and the child from my mind.  I ran back to the arms of the man I had fallen in love with.

I told Ari the decision was his. I would leave with him today or wait for him to return. He said with the state his country was in at present he would prefer my safety for now. He would return to me in January. That would give me time to make more responsible arrangements.

The thought of the woman and child came back to me and I shared her with Ari.  As I described her to him while asking if he had brought his sister with him to help him through his surgery and recovery, I noticed the tears in his eyes begin to fall down his beautifully tanned handsome face one by one each telling a story of love and pain.  Ari asked me what the boy looked like.  For some reason I didn’t ask why, rather I described the sweet boy while adding the vivid memory of the woman walking to me, squeezing my arm in some sort of approval.  Ari’s tears ceased.  He took my hands in his and told me the woman was the spirit of his deceased wife and son.

The woman and child that were visiting me in the other room of my home had been killed in an Iraqi bombing a few years before. I knew then, as Ari did, her spirit had led me to Iraq, pushing me towards Ari all the while knowing I would love him forever as she had intended to. And so, I did.  Ari joined me in the United States bringing with him his riches and glory.  We moved to Washington D.C. where he became a dignitary for relations between the United States and Iraq until it was no longer possible.  Ari became an American citizen and we then opened our own Insurance company adding sales teams all over the country with availability to trade teams with peaceful countries all over the world.  Not to mention we had a few of our own little ones to add to the census of the United States of America, for which it stands, one nation, under God, with Liberty and Justice for all. 

 

Iraq.......by Julianna Rowe (2003)

"Iraq: Foreign Exchange Sales Teams"   (Written in 2003)  PART I 

Our sales team had entered a nationwide contest called “The Greatest Sales-Team in the World.”  We won, and were chosen under the guise of “Foreign Exchange Team” exchange and that was against my better judgment or rather against every fear I could think of.

Sales is something I enjoyed doing within reason of course and this certainly seemed to be without reason. Do you recall in High School when we exchanged Foreign students? Well that crazy idea came up on a message from the leaking bowels of our manufacturing Human Resources Department. They chose to exchange Sales teams with Iraq of all places. I was thinking someone wasn't thinking. Seems they decided to be the "undertakers" of this grand new idea for peace and harmony between countries.

Why me? Although when I rethought that, throughout history people have said why me while they are in the middle of a battlefield, be it cancer, or some terrible accident that leaves them paralyzed, or Human Resources trading sales teams with Iraq.  P-l-e-a-s-e!  But then, I was one of the best who passed the test so there I was in the middle of going to the Middle East. Not that I considered that a prize for my excellent sales ability.  What ever happened to a Mediterranean Cruise or Porta Vallarta? 

My standard of living had become quite lucrative and I rather enjoyed it, but not to the place of lending myself to harm? Yet everyone involved reassured me all would be well in the Middle East for this trip. I was thinking, all is never well in the Middle East. My only hope was I wouldn’t be the lucky one to run into Saddam or that other bearded person, Osama bin Laden. And of course, I didn’t suppose they would allow my gun to pass through any airport.  I was known for using my sense of humor during stress related issues such as even the relaying of this memory.

I recall I remembered my working days back in Texas when I was selling insurance late at night or even during the day in the back woods walking to a client’s front door among a herd of longhorn cattle. Back then I packed a pistol indeed but times had changed, crime was up and guns weren't allowed to protect one's self. Or if one did protect oneself, one ended up in the "Big House" named criminal. 

A new trend had infiltrated our country called judgment.  If a child was kidnapped, the parents were instantly the guilty ones! If a woman was murdered, her husband was immediately implicated.  The world had changed.  It was no longer innocent until proven guilty, it was guilty until you prove yourself innocent. 

Back to the Middle East Peace Plan Human Resources USA Sales team exchange trip. My team chosen!

Yes, I tended to be somewhat tenacious and that is why I was good at what I did which is why I ended up on that flight from New York to Paris and then on to Baghdad. My heart was beating so hard on that last flight as it circled for landing I questioned my intelligence once again causing anxiety to show it ugly uncircumcised head. Not that I never had second guessed myself before. Breathe I said to myself. The other fellows didn't seem as emotional about our quest as I. But then they were men and I was a woman, a blonde woman. I had heard from a close friend who married a Muslim man that they love blondes. Especially American blondes with a slightly larger derriere. Oh good, I will be sought after by Muslim men in a foreign rather unfriendly country as I am selling my "wares." Go ahead, imagine that as an 8x 10 glossy? On the other hand, possibly, my life would be spared because of my "other end."  Quite the odd reference wouldn’t you say?  In other words, my ass might save me.  I could live with that.

We were greeted at the Baghdad airport, which had been nearly destroyed during the recent bombings. Seeing it from the air left nothing to the imagination. The pain and fear emanated through the rubble as though the dead were rising in masses of grey mists leaving behind and all around them clouds of the fear felt at the time of their instant obliteration. I started to feel something other than my usual self. I began to feel the lives of the deceased strongly as I spiritually becoming one with Iraq as the landing gears descended. I secretly wondered if the others I was traveling with were feeling any of the same classified emotions.  And then among my thoughts and sensing’s from the mist of the dead one’s that filled the space surrounding us who had passed on, we landed.

The men were quiet as we were escorted to a black Limousine. Not one of those long stretch Hummers like back home. More a snub-nosed classier version like president’s ride in. We were taken to one of the only hotels left standing. Once inside it was breathtaking. The tile work and gold inlay all about us spoke of immense wealth, yet the city that had stood for the spirit of hope through God was in shambles. What did anyone expect us to retrieve from such despair and destruction?  Surely God had a plan somewhere among this disarray. Were we God's two thousand five-hundred-piece puzzle? But what if he wanted to place the pieces and we didn't let him! I had taken off on one of my imaginary mental travel junkets. 

At that point in time I wasn't being anything but somber, confused, and intimidated, considering I was quite the minority. I was blonde, buxom, and donned a large derriere, as well as I was not concealed like most of the women who covered their faces with Berta's. They didn't have to since the war ended, but fear still gripped many of them. American soldiers were everywhere. Some taking their surroundings more seriously than others which was normal for our human race in any situation. More than once I wished I had one of those black garment Berta's or Niqab’s to cover my entire body only exposing my eyes. I wanted to hide. Hide wasn’t going to happen for me at that point, in fact, before long we were to be presented to the heads of the company we were playing foreign exchange sales team with.

The feast presented us was unbelievable. Huge festive bowls of every fruit imaginable. Wines served in gold goblets. Gold on every item we touched everywhere. The people of Iraq have a deep appreciation for their own cuisine. They presented very expensive meats at nearly every meal. This meat can be sheep, roasted lamb, chicken, beef, goat, or Masgouf, a fish eaten all around Iraq and often referred to as the national dish of the country. I found out later Masgouf was Carp!  Tomato and chickpea stew, served with rice. Nuts, seeds, dried fruits, pickles, a large variety of homemade breads. Kleicha is a traditional Iraqi cookie that's prepared for special occasions as this. The cookies are made with flour, butter, yeast, cardamom, fennel, and nigella seeds. They are traditionally filled with walnuts, sugar, cardamom, or dates.  I was in awe of the presentation before us.

I also found the people very accommodating towards all of us and I was starting to feel more comfortable, when into the room came a much older man drawing my attention completely as if I knew him personally. His salt and pepper hair carried dreadlocks past his wide shoulders onto a tall thin frame. He was quite charming yet seemed physically frail.  He was dressed of wealth and conservatism, almost as though he didn't belong there. His eyes moved toward me several times with a depth that added honor of me. But why? I considered it might be my derriere but I was sitting and had been the entire time.   My mind was having trouble understanding the look he gave that appeared to come "into" me. While trying to remain busy and avoid his look I eventually over ate myself into a state of lethargy. Like when you go to a function where you do not know many, therefore due to the social discomfort you waltz around the buffet table overeating for as long as possible. The wine certainly added to the creeping out introvert part of me, I am sure.

He disappeared as quickly as he appeared leaving an immense sense of, "Who was that man?"

(To be continued in tomorrow's blog post)

"The Conversion Zone" a short story by Julianna Rowe

 

“The Conversion Zone”    by Julianna Rowe 

Rimrock Road 8:23 am CST April 23^rd, 1923   

 I stood watching the children play. The boys racing their tall tricycles and the girls dragging cloth dolls on the ground with one hand while blowing harshly on their new bird whistles with the other. I know not how I knew them or why I was there, I just was.   The children began gathering around me staring.  So, I stared back.  Children don’t get embarrassed when people don’t respond to them immediately like adults do.  But I held my ground for as long as adulthood allowed and then I exclaimed.

“What?”

They continued to stare in silence.  I was no longer embarrassed rather I was getting scared when I noticed each child had white hair and steel blue eyes that were piercing through to my soul.  Then over to the left of the small group of the children of the damned stood a man clearly surrounded in a grey mist, with dark hair and dark eyes.  He seemed to be their master. 

Where was I? Who was I? And most of all, who was the group of weird people all pointing in unison to the vast acres of land across the street.

That was when a voice spoke up saying. 

“That is the half a million-dollar land you lost to your sister.”

I turned so slowly it was like a scene from a slow-motion movie reel. I needed to see the losses they were all pointing out to me but when I turned all I saw were acres of dead earth possessed by more of those same children of the damned and their leader.  Although I did spiritually connected with the money I and my family had lost to those thieves. Yet the land belonged to the dark man and his children all possessed by past and future generations who lurked upon the cold deceased estate.

One of the children caught my attention when I couldn’t help but notice her eyes changed like that of a chameleon in danger.  Her white hair turned yellow blonde and she came alive like the sun and her steely scary eyes went golden brown and shown beauty like the autumn leaves. She looked like a child version of me.  As she left the others and walked toward me, she reached for my hand and I obliged as I took hers into mine.   I knew her but I didn’t know how I knew her.  She led me away from those withering souls through a misty yellow porthole to a quiet neighborhood where the sun was bright and a feeling of freedom lifted me from the dark evil place we had left behind.  At least I hoped we had.  She then safeguarded me to a truck sitting by itself on an empty street and then she disappeared in a blink but where she had stood was left a beautiful glow of soft rainbow colors.  I quickly moved in an attempt to retrieve her as though I had lost part of me and had to get it back.  When I reached for the space where she had disappeared, all the gentle colors of who she was enveloped me, offering a peace like I had never known. Was she me in a past life? Was she an Angel warning me?  Or helping me?  I think she was me in 1923. She had come through the porthole from the fifth dimension to aid me in the loss of my family inheritance and to assist me toward a better future. 

I had been told by a spirit, before this encounter, there are twelve dimensions in all that surround our Universe. Each of the twelve are comprised of different phases of learning. Sort of like a school where you escalate according to how far you evolved during your living years.  One being the most evolved and twelve being pre-kindergarten.  I knew from the spirit man who visited me that when you pass on you carry a light.  Maybe to light your way was a guess on my part.  He told me some have brighter lights than others but they all ascend magnetically to whichever dimension they belong to continue their journey. It’s all about energy and physics. But what did all this have to do with me and the very large truck I was heading toward sitting on the very empty street?

The truck was like an army transport vehicle.  I walked around it peering at the dark green almost black color with its huge back doors latched using a long heavy metal bar.  What was inside the dreary dark machine appeared to be a moving prison. 

I was in a trans of wonder when from behind me came a man who opened the barred rear door and pushed me inside slamming it shut.  I could feel the air sucked out of me as I felt the heavy clank when the bar came down locking me inside with no escape.  Where was she?  Where was my angel, or what I thought might be the other part of me?  I needed help. I could see no escape from this horror. 

First it was the dark pied piper man and his little fleet of children of the damned with their vast fields showing me all my losses, to the little girl from somewhere who led me to the black Auschwitz on wheels!  Now I was afraid.  Fear gripped every cell in my body when abruptly a different compartment door opened and several foreign men appeared in chains.  I did not belong there and I knew it.  Why was I with these people? And then the truck began moving and a window on each side of the vehicle mechanically slid away opening the heavy metal plates to expose heavy glass windows.  I thought at the least now we could see where we were being taken.  No one spoke but me.  No one answered me, they just stared ahead, sometimes out the window, never looking at me. 

Once again, I thought they may be dead.  Why were all those dead people surrounding me? Why all this negative light around me?  I had no choice but to sit and look out the window trying to decipher what would be next. I wanted to scream with terror because I hated being locked up especially in a small area knowing I could never escape the iron walls of what had become my personal prison.  Why?  Suddenly I lost who I was or where I came from. I had lost my identity and become nothing more than those empty men who couldn’t speak for themselves, who were lost, maybe dead? Yet alive.  Like me, yes, they were like me.  I had given up after losing my inheritance and struggling to maintain life surrounded by people with no purpose, no drive, no reason to live. 

Then out the window in the midst of my trance while discovering the why’s of my situation I see the ocean ahead.  It was coming closer and closer as was my terror.  I had always had a fear of going into the water in a locked vehicle and there it was coming to fruition.  The truck sped up and I knew this was the end.  I didn’t have time to think on whether my light would be bright or dim or what dimension I would end up in or how much I would suffer or how fast the water would come in.  Would I float as high as I could to the ceiling begging for one more breath of air struggling just as I had before this day working, toiling to make ends meet, striving for one more breath to keep living?  Not seeing there was a way out but I didn’t take it.  Afraid to take it. 

And then we were airborne!  We flew off the edge of a cliff and were descending like a rock toward the ocean floor.   I was dizzy from agonizing paralyzing fear.  The men didn’t move because they had given up on life but I hadn’t.  That is when she appeared again pointing to the window.  The little me from 1923 telling me there was a way out and it wasn’t as hard as I had thought. 

I turned, pushed on the window pane as though time had stood still and gravity was not in force.  The window popped out more easily than it should have been possible to do. (That is usually how it is but we can’t always see it.)  Centrifugal force pulled me out in a nano second of time!  I was free flying toward the water…….

I woke up from that dream screaming and crying.  Then laughing out loud at the wonderment of the Universe to give me a dream so vivid it relayed to me what was happening in my own life and how to rectify it.   There is always HOPE and HELP from the Universe to get us through our down times and back to the sunshine and smiles.

  I got my humor and direction back!  Thank you to my own spirit and that of the others who came to my earthly rescue through that amazing dream.  It was given to me in the form of a spiritual movie.  Sort of like there are two different ways to learn mathematics.  Earth and Spirit are the same.  I was told I need to balance them more and never forget the Spirit because I can’t see my answer in the flesh.   To always look beyond for your answers.  Be safe....