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 Writing journal, personal diary, and responses to prompts |
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"Blog City Prompt Forum"  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** My recurring dreams started in my childhood. I was chased night of night by bears. Most of the time it was one big brown bear. Sometimes there were many bears. I asked everyone I knew what I could do to stop it. My uncle taught me lucid dreaming. That talent helped me deal with them because I learned to control my dreams enough that I could jump up or climb a tree to leap off and fly away. I was gifted an Edgar Cayce dream dictionary, and I keep my own dream journal and a daily diary. By keeping the journals, I learned my personal patterns. I saw how a fight with my mother triggered the bear. But the most significant and shocking discovery in my journals was the profound proof that some dreams are prophesizing dreams. I learned how they feel. I have only had a few but there is no doubt at all. With me it’s a knowing. Not, "I wonder if…" That’s the best explanation I can give you. My dream symbols are basically standard. But because we are each unique and have different experiences, my interpretations don’t (always) match others. That’s ok with me. I used to go by the handle Anotherdreamer here and other sites. I can talk about actual dreams indefinitely. (that’s my exaggerating writer in me speaking) But seriously it is a fascinating subject. Our dreaming minds can at times have shared dreams with nearby dreamers. I used to ask everyone to tell me their dreams in the morning while I cooked breakfast for my five grandchildren. Many times, our dreams or sometimes just a few of them, were shared themes. And that makes sense in a family living in the same house. Because of shared experiences. One time when I was working at Heartlight, I had a dream and wrote it in my journal immediately. It was about a big-headed horse. I was mad at it. It had jumped a fence and chased a beautiful horse into a large spool of barbed wire. I chased the big-headed horse out of the field. The dream was intense. I felt anger, and fear for the loved horse. None of this made any sense to me and my years of dream interpretations. Nada, nope it made me wonder, well whose dream is this? I planned to ask around. Minutes after making that entry, my cell phone sang the music I set for another employee. He asked me to pick him up and take him to the car dealership so he could drive Neale’s car back to Heartlight. When I pulled into the address he had given me, I was spooked. There was a big spool of wire in the field with a horse. As soon as he opened the door to jump my car he began a retelling of my dream nearly word for word. It must have happened at the exact time of my dream. https://www.dreamdictionary.org/ is helpful there are many more resources out there. This app is cheap and would be useful to anyone learning about dream work. Edgar Cayce’s Dream Dictionary - App on Amazon Appstore https://www.amazon.com/Edgar-Cayces-A-R-E-Dream-Dictionary/dp/B008AM1SH4 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| "Blog Week Birthday Bastion 2024" Prompt 7. Sept 7. Due 11.59 pm today! The last one. The world is not an ideal place for lots of people. What can YOU do to make it better? 403 words This world is “Earth” right? [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] We people need to grow up and move on. This planet will do fine without us. I think we were supposed to do that, because when I read, somewhere years ago, that “the earth is only our cradle,” it registered on my intrinsic epistemology meter as true. I believe they were promoting space travel. I will try to show that earth has feelings too, in the following rant. Earth lay hurting. It reached for memories hoping to find a cure for the excruciating heart ache. ….. searching deep into its memories far, far back, to when it awoke, and emerged from the cosmos as a fertilized egg, conscious, creative and aware. Memories were touchable like bubbles; crystalized and wrapped, ripe for picking. One was laced with a love song. It brought joy. One was full of excitement. Another described a complicated plan. The next one changed it and made a new plan. Beautiful memories, as many as the stars in the sky, awaited to be noticed. Earth could wander here forever but there was that lingering pain that needed to be identified to heal. Memories were digested, replicated and replaced. Each day brought more breaks in the fabric of life. Then, came the bitter memory, a choking memory. Innocence was lost forever. Earth suffered when "Mother" was erased from the hearts and minds of humanity. Even the word human was masculine. Not that it was a bad thing, it’s simply not the whole thing, it’s a part of something. That word, human, left a hole, a festering gash that needs attention. "Help!" Earth screamed "I am hurting!" The world is not an ideal place for lots of people because they ask for too much and give nothing back. In conclusion for the prompt…. What can I do to make it better? My answer is I can continue to work with nature conservancy groups. We purchase lands and try to restore them to their natural state of being. (free from drills and bulldozers and, man-made chemicals) [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] BUT if you are talking about too many people....I don't have an answer for that. Or if you are talking about how to make other people happy...Just be kind to each other. ![Merit Badge in Wake Up
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| 396 words "Blog Week Birthday Bastion 2024" Prompt 6. Sept 6. Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. Paul Tournier Can you share a secret? Small or big, tell us. No? Tell us why not. My secret is: I am sick of secrets! I held too many for too long and when the dam burst open, I told myself never again. I am candid to a fault. I have and will pass any lie detector apparatus because I tell my truth. I tell it unabashed now because I own my humanness. If you want to blame anyone, blame our creator for making sick and sometimes twisted people. My mother lived with multiple personality disorder, and I was forbidden to share that info with anyone. Now you know. I am talking about my secrets not yours but I'm not real good at keeping them either if I am asked point blank. Chances are if I know I will say "that is not for me to say." Well, that’s not enough words so I will talk about Paul Tournier, the above quote's author. I learned today that he has 30 books listed on Good Reads. I like this quote of his better. Acceptance of one's life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of psychological complexes and injustices. Paul Tournier Paul Tournier was born in 1898, in Geneva, Switzerland, to Pastor Louis Tournier and Alisabeth Ormond. His father died three months after his birth at the age of 70. His mother died six years later, at the age of 42. He and his elder sister were raised by his uncle and aunt. I imagine he was faced with unanswered questions. Like why did his mother marry an older man, a preacher at that? Man, I need about 50 more words. Oh Secrets Vallarta Bay Puerto Vallarta “ located on Mexico’s Pacific coast, the resort fuses excitement, entertainment and elegance with the endless gourmet dining and bars, or endless tropical beach resort activities for a unique adults-only experience, all complete with our signature Unlimited-Luxury® experience.” My daughter was married there last year, and it was a remarkable experience. We stayed on the family friendly side but I visited the other side with registered guests there. We stayed a week! |
| The news tonight brings back horrifying memories for me because ten years ago my grandson was a freshman at Marysville Pilchuck High School. “On October 24, 2014, 15-year-old freshman student Jaylen Fryberg shot five students at Marysville Pilchuck High School in Marysville, Washington, fatally wounding four, before shooting and killing himself.” marysville school shooting 2014 - Search (bing.com) I watched Jaylen the night before as I waited in the parking lot for my Grandson after football practice. Jaylen wildly pulled his braids loose and shook his head. He leaped in the air kicking and howled . My grandson was still on the field. When he got in the car, I asked what was going on with Jaylen. He said he was close to getting kicked off the team. His cousin started dating his ex and Jaylen couldn’t cope and was bullying his cousin. The coach kicked him off the field. The next day I had the tv on as I did housework. An emergency warning flashed across the screen announcing a school shooting there! I called my grandson ASAP. He whispered, “Gramma, I am in lock-down we are hiding please don’t call again. Gotta go. I love you.” Click. My grandson is getting married next week. I will hug him extra tight. Then on October 1, 2017, his mother, my daughter, was at the Route 91 Harvest music festival in Las Vegas. She went with her group of nursing friends. Her life was saved by a turn of her head. The scene was gut wrenching. All of them and their families, including me, still suffer post-traumatic stress. Lets get rid of guns. I know people want them but, my God, let's put a stop to it. |
| Prompt 5. Sept 5."Blog Week Birthday Bastion 2024" The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go. Dr. Seuss Tell us more about the writer in you. Plans/Aspirations/Fears/Status etc? 565 Words I knew as a child that I wanted to write. I lived-in make-believe worlds. We rarely had babysitters, my brother and me. On a rare occasion, we did. A teenage neighbor girl who brought a portable manual typewriter. She was practicing. And I remember standing there and watching her. And she told me, “You need to step away. I'm trying to do my homework.” I yelled at her. “But I need to learn to type. I'm going to be a writer.” I wish now that I had learned to type well. I didn't. When I had a chance to learn in high school. I barely passed the classes. I think my top speed was 59 words per minute or something silly like that. I never made the 60 wpm I wanted. Wha wha wha [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Now a person doesn't need to type if they have Microsoft word or any dictating program like the old dragon system. You have to train it and edit it but it can be a blessing. I wanted to be a nurse for a vocation AND to write and publish novels for fun. I never accomplished either of those. And no, tears aren't dripping down my face because. I'm 72 years old and didn't accomplish what I wanted. I had so many other things to fill in the spaces… good ones and bad. While I was trying to be a nurse, I worked at a nursing home during the day. And three nights a week I worked on the surgical floor of our city’s only hospital as a CNA. One night, a famous author was in a car crash and was admitted to my ward. And during his stay, which was lengthy due to the extent of his injuries, I hounded him with question after question about his career. Enquiring minds want to know. I told him I wanted to be a writer too. I had taken a home study course on writing magazine articles. Later I sold one to a historical society magazine and I wrote one for the local newspaper. But the point is his advice, which was, “Write what you know. Use your life as fodder for your stories. Just this surgical wing alone, could fill pages.” I do that in my novel “The Dance of the Opal,” which comes and goes, off my top burner, all my adult life. I work on it now and then. Last year I bought a writing program (Final draft 12) to help me pull it together, that and two other novels from my head. It takes me longer than others to learn technology. I haven’t figured it out yet, but I have filled a slew of beat boards. (That’s a final Draft feature) One of these days I will master it, I just know it. I met published authors when I managed HeartLight, Neale Donald Walsh’s estate in Ashland, Oregon. We hosted writer’s retreats. Everyone has fears of the big “What if my muse dries up?” (paraphrasing) That is a common thread because publishers are HUNGRY and need to be fed. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Years ago, I paid to have my horoscope read by a famous astrologer (no name dropping now lol because I can’t remember it) She said that I would be a LATE BLOOMER and become famous later in life. That thought fuels my dream of publishing a best-selling novel. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
| "Blog Week Birthday Bastion 2024" PhotoPrompt 3 Dragon ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** 371 words A tale of a Dragon She was longer from snout to tail than any of her kind had ever been. That was a problem. It was NOT her worst problem. She was called “Hot Lips” for a reason. Every time she opened her mouth, a plume of heat billowed around it. A simple yawn once burned acres of forest, so she was forbidden to stay. She lived a lonely life on a solidified cloud that orbited the planet. Her tail continued to grow. After a millennium her cloud couldn’t shelter all of it and so it came to pass that her tail eventually reached the cold water of the ocean below her. Jack, the lad who once climbed a bean stock, just happened to notice it from his high perch. He climbed down, bought a sailboat and sailed the seas in search of the strange phenomenon. After a few years he came upon it. He adjusted a backpack of survival necessities and proceeded to climb the tail. A month later he reached the cloud. Hot Lips was pleased to have company. She warned Jack, telepathically, to stay on his back. Jack climbed to the top of the upper crust of the head and hooked a hammock to the horns. He secured it with ropes to scales in four directions. It was a very efficient chair. Days and nights passed in delightful conversations. Every now and then Hot Lips flipped her tail, and fish would rain down on them. She aways cooked a few for Jack. Rainwater was captured in fallen scales; rolled in cone shapes and bound with string. One time, Jack added a slice of dried fruit and let it ferment. “Hey, Hot Lips,” Jack slurred. “When was the last time you flew anywhere?’ “I really can’t remember. I don’t even know if I can.” “Come on give it a try.” He challenged, as he snapped himself securely into the chair. Hot Lips sucked in a deep breath then launched off the cloud. Water dripped from her tail, and she curled and twisted up away from the planet, passed the three moons, past the fourteen celestial bodies and into the cosmic never nevers, never to be seen again. Their new lives would include true loves, high hopes and a million years of adventures, in worlds far, far away. The End |
| "Blog Week Birthday Bastion 2024" Prompt 3. Sept 3. You can achieve all the things you want to do, but it's much better to do it with loved ones around you; family and friends, people that you care about that can help you on the way and can celebrate you, and you can enjoy the journey. ~John Lasseter Your most significant other(s) is/are....! Write about your loved ones (furry or not)." [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] 387 words I am blessed with an awesome core/soul group of loved ones. Many are my immediate family and cousins, first, second and third cousins twice removed. I find strength in knowing we walk the earth together. We don’t agree on everything, but I recognize myself in them. Their gestures and speech mirror mine. My mother’s voice and mine sounded so similar that people on the other end of the phone couldn’t distinguish us. I have a group of first cousins on my mother’s side who keep in touch, and we call ourselves The Cackling Cousins because we laugh so much when we are together. We had monthly card games until we were closed down because of covid and since then medical issues struck here and there among us. Our meetings are in hospital halls. But we are scheduled in the very near future to get together for perhaps a high tea for fun. Most of us (8) are very close in age. Our mothers are sisters, so we all share roll down baggage from the generation before us. I write about my mother’s sad childhood in my blogs from time to time. These ladies’ mothers experienced it too. The three sisters were close and oddly enough the men they chose to marry were besties. And how they all met was interesting and in twining. My mother’s oldest sister took a live-in nanny position with my aunt, (dad’s oldest sister) a single mom, a social worker with three sons. She had just lost her son Alvin who drowned trying to save another boy while swimming in a hole in a gravel pit. So, my aunt on my mother’s side worked for my aunt on my fathers’ side. Then my father met my mother and married her. His best man met mom’s younger sister, and they got married a few months later. Then, the guys introduced their boss/friend to the first aunt, and they got married too. Babies began popping out about one every six months or so from someone. Three of us were in the same grade, but rarely in the same school. Even the children of our mothers’ brothers were our age. We have lost two of them. At the lowest points in my life, they have embraced me, and they are among the first to celebrate my joys. |
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Prompt 2. Sept 2. Tell us about an earthshaking Life-or-Death situation in your life. What happened, how did it change you, if at all? OMG which one to choose. I was abandoned at the age of six. I am still working on it. I survived on dandelion wishes. Each wish was a prayer. Mine were answered. My family was reunited. For my seventh birthday I was allowed to choose any pup from my uncle’s golden spaniel’s litter. Four strong yellow pups greeted me but, in the back, curled up and dirty was Flipper, my dog. She was black and white. They said, “no choose a good one.” And I snatched up my dog and venomously defended her. I was allowed to be greedy with Flipper. No one else could feed her or teach her bird dog signs. She was my best friend. It was a hot August day. The air was dusty because I was in the back of a pickup with other cousins and a bunch of big black inner tubes. Ahead of us was a caravan of aunts and uncles. The picnic’s destination was a sandy beach on the left hand side of the bridge. I knew the spot from the year before. I leaped out with tube in hand, barefoot and ran to the right of the bridge. I planned to ride the river on the tube, to that beach. Just as I began my leap to catch the tube, someone I didn’t know, screamed “NO! Whirlpool!” I touched the tube, but my fingers slipped. My feet hit the water first and I was pulled, sucked in. I saw the green water darken then it became lighter, and the force of the whirling had brought me up and down three times. I remember hearing that drowning person came up three times. The next descent seemed as if I was in slow motion. I saw the past three years of my dog Flipper’s life roll by like a movie going backwards. Then all was black. I woke up in pain. My dad had just taught a class in artificial resuscitation. He revived me with chest compressions. How did I get out? My mother and the woman who had called out both dove in. They bumped heads, but both had a hold of my hair, then arm. Others helped them out. How did it change me? It was a healing of sorts. On that day and that moment, I saw love in the eyes of both my parents. |
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