Posts Tagged ‘Reality Creation’

Happy Earth Day!

Dear Mama Earth,

Happy Earth Day!

In honor of you, I was going to write a long blog post calling for actual detoxifying, beautifying and protective solutions — not just green-washing of other agendas in the name of “sustainability.” Then I realized I painted a portal for that very thing, way back in February 2014. I’ve already reblogged it, so I’ll just link to it again here. Sorry it’s taking so long to fully unfold. May it become so!

With so much love and gratitude,

Laura

Real Life Jumpsuit Tower Jailbreak

I wrote this up for myself on Monday, after finishing the poem that began from three email subject lines on Easter Sunday. I had not planned to share this in a public way, but a client/friend/colleague emailed to share recent breakthroughs and that my San Quentin jailbreak dream had triggered her own powerful dream. She finished her message by saying, “[N]ow you can add “Mystical Quantum Dream Spawner” to your CV,😊

I told her I wasn’t surprised she had such big breakthroughs and then said:

Too cool about the San Quentin dream spawning another one for you. I feel like I liberated my creative writing self from that tower. Yesterday was WILD with synchronicities and the poem I posted today just poured out of me. I had several revisions, but all in all, it was a very quick effort. I haven’t written a poem since maybe 2017?! And before that it was 2009. There was a time when I wrote lots of poetry. 

BTW, I found the jumpsuit on Free People’s website — and ordered it — right before the initial poem lines arrived yesterday afternoon. I haven’t decided if I’ll write that up as its own post. It’s pretty funny. I realized I was dressed as Rosie the Riveter: “We can do it!” 

Then all these things unlocked.

LOL!!!

❤️ 

Laura

Her response convinced me to share the story in a more detailed way. It all happened as described, but much of it unfolds like a dream. (If you haven’t read the San Quentin dream or the follow-up, it won’t make any sense at all. One other note, per dream instructions earlier in the week, I did a three-day colon cleanse from Good Friday through Easter Sunday.) Here’s what I wrote for myself:

Before my TBI I was told to “quit my job, do spiritual work, become a landscaper and write poetry.” Perhaps I’m re-entering the poetry phase.

I now wonder if my Jailbreak dream was about freeing my creative writing self. I had a weird series of events right before I saw the three back to back emails. I got dressed in my “Rosie the Riveter” inspired jumpsuit and looked up a photo of that icon just to see if I was imagining things. It usually says, “We can do it!” but for some reason, I read it as “You can do it!” The only reason I wore the jumpsuit is because I thought I might try to find and order “the right Free People jumpsuit” that freed the woman imprisoned in the tower at San Quentin.

Before ordering a Free People jumpsuit, I thought I’d wear this cheaper one I already owned, just to make sure I liked the feel and look of it. I did, so I started scrolling through the Free People website and found a jumpsuit that seemed similar to the one in my dream. I then received notification that a different Free People package had been delivered. I had just gone outside to deal with recycling and spray deer repellent on my tulips, so I knew the package had only JUST arrived. When I picked it off the mat, the package was empty!

I didn’t expect anyone to be working at Free People on Easter Sunday, but I wanted to document this situation so they wouldn’t think someone just stole it while we were away for the weekend. It looked like the bag had not sealed properly in the first place, not like someone cut into the package. I tried to do an online chat and nothing worked. Then I noticed the fact that they supposedly man their phones 24 hours per day. I thought, “It’s a long shot, but maybe they have a few people working on Easter.” I called and got through pretty fast.

I expected an argument, so I had photos of the improperly sealed, empty package, but I didn’t need them. The woman noted that it had only JUST been delivered, and she took me at my word. She arranged to send out a new item, which shipped last night. What’s especially odd is that the item that slipped out of the package was a SAFARI VEST! I guess it went on its own, uncharted journey. Somehow, this seems significant, like it symbolizes my own detour from creative writing.

I just find it wild that I ordered a Free People jumpsuit that freed the woman in my Easter Sunday dream, and then I immediately got triggered to write the first poem I’ve done in years. I used to write a lot of poetry, but I’ve written maybe one poem (in 2017 or 2018 and I can’t find it) since I finished Schizandra and the Gates of Mu in July 2009. In addition to the poem arising, I feel like I made a huge breakthrough on [another novel] plot, which screeched to a halt when Tim died in December 2017. This cleanse has been really minor on the physical level, but it appears to be removing writer’s block.

____________

That’s the extended story. I don’t know why my dreams so often foresee clothing items or accessories that later show up in real life. Clothing is a powerful metaphor, though: identity, self-expression, creativity. Accessories, glasses — these also suggest other things. In part, I share these stories as demonstrations of how fluid reality becomes when we engage it in a playful, creative way.

I haven’t felt creatively blocked. I’ve painted lots of portals, designed a full permaculture haven, redecorated several homes, wrote guided journals and a LOT of blog posts. My intuitive and astrology readings are also highly creative acts. Yet my creative writing –in particular — has felt like it took a long detour.

In retrospect, I can see why. I’ve written several novels worth of material in the past four years. (Way beyond anything I’ve shared on this blog.) I needed to purge my own stories and bizarre details in order to do creative writing from a place that allows for full expression. No need to get hung up on what did or did not “really” happen. Having fully engaged my own life history and material, I won’t need to explore that through fiction and poetry. I can write what I’m meant to write, unclouded by a need to understand it through my own personal lens.

The creative process is non-linear. It varies from person to person, but some things coincide. I share my own unfolding to inspire others to relax but stick with it. To quote my Dream Guys: “In perfect love and perfect trust, perfect timing is a must.”

Happy Easter!

This dream feels collective, so I’ll share it here:

4/17/2022
Easter Sunday
“Jailbreak”

A woman was imprisoned in a tower in San Quentin. I kept trying to negotiate her release.

I called the head guard, and he said, “It’s San Quentin. You don’t just waltz outta San Quentin. It doesn’t work that way.”

After many unsuccessful calls, I realized if I brought the prisoner the right jumpsuit, the tower would evaporate, and we would swim home. I searched and searched for the right jumpsuit, and it was a Free People jumpsuit. If I packed it in a picnic basket with some sandwiches, I could take it to her.

I passed the head guard and brought the basket to the woman. When she put on her new jumpsuit, everything changed and we were free.

Bible calendar: “The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace.” ~ Numbers 6:24-26

“Jailbreak” — what a perfect dream for Easter Sunday!

END of dream journal.

There’s so much symbolism in this one little dream. Unpacking it would take a long time, so I’ll leave it in encapsulated form. Perhaps it speaks to you, as well.

Dream “Vision” Manifestation

On March 30, I sent the following as an email to my friend Ann Kreilkamp, who enjoys hearing some of my bizarre local encounters. For some reason I feel nudged to share it here, too:

I just had a fun little adventure you might like. A month or so ago I dreamed about finding and being urged to buy a pair of green metal framed glasses. I wondered if these would show up in waking life, because my dreams seem to show me certain pieces of clothing that later appear. Well, I got a nudge to go to Rx Optical today and refill our glasses cleaner spray. I also thought I’d look for the green metal framed glasses there. I looked around, and they had nothing like that, so I asked, “You don’t, by chance, have any green metal framed glasses, do you?”

She about fell out of her chair, got up, and said, “Wait a minute.” She returned with a pair and said, “These JUST came in. I mean JUST. We don’t even have a price tag on them yet.”

I tried them on, and they fit perfectly. They looked exactly like my dream glasses, so I bought them. We had a somewhat extended conversation about dreams since I was the third person to tell her my dream today. 

Also, it was my first time wearing a new raincoat, because it’s pouring outside and the right temperature for a raincoat. I have tried to find the right raincoat since 2012 because the one I had was kind of short on me, I had lost the belt and it was too tight in the shoulders. I couldn’t find anything I liked as well, until two weeks ago, this coat appeared for just long enough for me to purchase it online. By the time I finished it was no longer available. 

While I sat waiting to pay for the new glasses, one of the doctors there — a super funky black woman with awesome braids — came out and said, “I LOVE your raincoat.” She waxed rhapsodic about it for several minutes, and I said, “Thank you. It was a ten year search. Seriously. I finally found it.” 

Then another woman who was trying on glasses and the person helping her got super interested in the glasses I was wearing. I said, “Thank you, but these are the ones I came in wearing, not the dream glasses.” I thought they had overheard the conversation and that this is why they started talking with me. Nope! I needed to explain the story again and then the other associate said, “Well, let’s see them!”

So I put them on, and she said, “The vibe, the vibe! I love the vibe. They’re the perfect vibe.”

Anyway, it was a rainy manifestation adventure. The other odd thing is that the dream with the green glasses frames featured a house quite similar to the house in a movie we started watching last night. The movie is called Blithe Spirit [the 2020 version]. I had planned to refill the glasses cleaner yesterday but got the sense to “Wait.” Today, I got a “Go,” so I went. The timing not only checked out that the frames had just arrived — they would not have been there yesterday — but also matched up with the house in the movie similar to the house that was almost its own character in my dream.

Here’s the raincoat in case you wondered:

LOL, this is how I do “service” in Kalamazoo. I show up in stores or at the chiropractor or doctor’s office with some kind of weird psychic unfolding that generates odd conversations. Kinda fun — if someone needs to do this kind of “work,” I’m game. 🙂

Wow, I just reread my green frame glasses dream, and it even had a lot of the plot of last night’s movie!

[End of the email to Ann.]

Also, in the dream, the people at the dream optician place kept effusively fawning over me like they did in the real life shop. Apparently, I had written highly successful novels and was a household name, but very down to earth.

Within the 2/23/2022 dream, I laughed when our financial advisor asked if I could use a new pair of glasses. “I have SO many frames. The last thing I need is another pair of glasses!” Yet he insisted I should look at frames, said they would have something for me and strongly advised me to get them. When you routinely have precognitive dreams, and your financial advisor tells you in a dream to do something, it’s wise to pay attention!

In the dream, these particular frames came in two colors — the green I ended up purchasing and a deep maroon. The woman who sold me the glasses in waking life said that she had tried on the maroon pair right when they arrived earlier that day. She said they didn’t suit her face, but the color would have matched her hair. We agreed that the green ones were for me, and we spoke more about the power of dreams.

Well, my new glasses arrived. This is not a glamour shot, LOL! It’s a no makeup, just got out of the shower after a full week of sessions shot, but you can see the Harry Potter-esque frames. They look exactly like the frames in the dream. I’m curious what else they’ll bring into my life.

David Icke ~ The Revolution that Will Change Everything

So much truth in here! Hat tip to Ann Kreilkamp:

Visibility, Invisibility and Protection

Today’s post mostly comes from a dream download and my journal of realizations I had while typing up the dream download. I share this because I was “told” to share it, so here goes:

3/16/2022
3:00 a.m.
“Dra’Faven”

Awoke realizing it’s not just my blog, it’s me. I am not of this world. My blog and home are like Avalon. Not everyone can see or find them, even if they’ve been there before.

I never put it together that it was not just the search engine with my blog — I (and others) can look up “Laura Bruno blog” and it won’t come up. Neither will “Laura Bruno WordPress.” I’m hearing this more and more from clients that they can’t find my blog. And yet, if someone really needs to find me, I come up as the #1 search engine ranking for whatever they need. Like “medical intuitive.” I am NOT the #1 search engine ranking for that, but I have heard from more than one new client that this is how they found me.

In Goshen, people used to drive right past our house and yard. I thought this was impossible because the yard was certainly VERY different from its surroundings. Factory and train track across the street, but our yard bloomed from March through November. I thought it was impossible to miss, but friends — people who had been there before — often drove past multiple times before I would walk into the street and flag them down.

Passersby would either marvel at all the flowers or not see them at all. Our friend Tim had free passage, and when he came to get our vacation mail, he felt a force field stop him. He realized what it was and said, aloud, “Laura Bruno asked me to keep an eye on the place and to get their mail.” The force field allowed him in.

Yesterday, here, our modem and router reset to factory standards. The former network name, “Dra’Faven” also disappeared. When I awoke, I realized this, too, is like Avalon. “Dra’Faven,” aka Dragon Faery Haven, is no longer visible to the outside world. I am in it but not of it. Less and less each day.

Remind readers to bookmark my blog and save my email and blog address because they may not be able to find me again if they lose touch. Not exaggerating.

END of that dream.

[I went back to sleep and had another dream, the details of which I’ll spare you. 🙂 In the morning, I handwrote the second dream into a dream journal and then typed both into my laptop. The following thoughts poured out of me as I continued typing.]

Last night we watched two episodes of Dickinson. We needed to redo the connection because of the earlier wifi situation. Only then did it occur to me that our network name used to be Dra-Faven, not the factory default router name. The guy on the phone helped me change my password to our other password, but I totally forgot our network was named. David, of course, remembered this, and I went upstairs to find the default name, which has the effect of anonymizing our network.

Both episodes — and really most of the second season — deal with the issue of Fame vs. Invisibility. Every episode leads David to comment, “This is SO Laura Bruno. These are the exact issues you’ve grappled with for your entire life.”

The second episode we watched last night features Emily getting her first poem published as E. Dickinson. At the moment she has finally dealt with her fears of other people reading her work, she becomes invisible. No one can see her at all, and she spends the whole episode wandering around listening to what people really think of her work. She also discovers all sorts of secrets, and this, too, feels like me with my intuitive “gifts” where I know things that I have no normal way of knowing.

After I typed in the first dream download, I realized, “Duh! I have had real experiences of invisibility, too. Not just a fictional idea of it. In Goshen, not only could people not see our house and yard, but they couldn’t see ME until I started eating cooked food.”

That’s literally why I started eating so much more cooked food. On a raw food vibration, not enough people in Goshen could see me. It became difficult to do day to day tasks like purchasing things at a store, because no one would acknowledge me at the register. At first I thought people were incredibly rude. I was like, “Wow, they take this Menno game (genealogy) way too far. Now they won’t even wait on me?!” I would sometimes leave stores in a bit of a huff, like “Fine! I guess they don’t want my business.”

One day, I was at the co-op with David. I finished shopping first and got in line to pay. The clerk just stood there. I said, “I’ll pay now,” but she did not acknowledge me at all. I waved, plunked my stuff on the little scroll thing, tried to flag down another employee. Nothing. David came up to me, and she immediately acknowledged him. Then David turned and said something to me, and the clerk about jumped out of her skin.

She said, “Oh, my goodness! You scared me. I didn’t see you come up just now.”

I said, “I’ve been standing here for five minutes.”

She said, “Ha ha.”

“No, really. I’ve been standing here trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.”

She had no idea what to do with that information, and David gave me a look like, “Pipe down.” When we got to the car, I said, “She really didn’t see me, did she?”

“I’d say no.”

“So maybe people aren’t being rude to me. Maybe they really can’t see me. Like physically cannot see me.”

From a practical standpoint, I realized I needed to lower my frequency in order to operate in Goshen. I needed to eat a lot of cooked food, drink loads of raw dairy, and weigh eight to ten more pounds than I do now. Even then not everyone could see me, but most of the time I could run errands without issue.

The house and yard were another story. I would not have believed people couldn’t find the property, but people kept telling me and even demonstrating this was the case.

Emily Dickinson published only one known poem in her lifetime, although she wrote many hundreds and became well lauded and famous after her death. Will I, too, become only posthumously famous? That would be SUCH a relief, if so.

I suspect my dreams and experiences with invisibility are meant to tell me that it doesn’t matter. Even if I DO become a household name for my writing, art, or anything else, I’ll keep my cloak. The wrong people won’t be able to find me even if they try. I haven’t figured out who or what is causing this with my blog, but more and more clients tell me that they can’t find my blog. They used to be able to find me at least by people linking to my blog, but lately even that method doesn’t work.

Is this protective? It seems so. Business is good. Maybe the cloaking keeps the wrong people from devouring me. I do feel like I live in a different dimension than most people. Experiences like the fictional episode show up in my actual life — and have for years.

Even back in Madison, David hosted a raw food potluck. We often did this at other locations, but sometimes at our house. There was one particular man who I did not feel comfortable having in our home, but we couldn’t just exclude him from the meetup. At the time, he had done nothing wrong. I just had a weird feeling about him. (He later got thrown in jail for aggravated assault, so my concerns were valid.)

Anyway, he was part of the raw food potluck, and I didn’t want him at our home. On two occasions, he TRIED to get there. He had the directions, the address, etc., and he spent hours driving and then walking up and down our block, unable to find the house. He accused David of giving him the wrong address, but we double checked, and it was the correct address. I told David to tell him, “Maybe you just weren’t meant to attend this meetup,” but I knew I had blocked him from finding our place.

Also, our “helpful” neighbor who would bring in our trash and recycling and run over my garden plants with the bins: I asked him not to do that. “Please, just leave the bins on the driveway, I’ll get them.” No matter how many times I asked him not to run over my garden plants, he always did, then expected to be thanked and thought we were cheap for not tipping him.

I asked for help from beyond, and wasps moved into the garden. I could work fine with them buzzing all around me, but if he set foot in my garden, they stung him. He continued to persist until they started swarming him at the base of the driveway. He turned tail and later apologized that the wasps were too intense for him. He just couldn’t bring the bins in anymore. Mission accomplished.

He wondered how I could garden with all those wasps.

I said, “They never sting ME. You know why? Because it’s MY garden. They know that. They only sting people who shouldn’t be there.”

I never had a problem with him again.

END of journal entry.

I don’t know why I’m supposed to share all of this, but perhaps it will strike a chord with others who have a stellium of 10th house (career, public life, fame) planets in their natal chart, or a Leo or 5th house North Node. Maybe it demonstrates or confirms that we can, and do, have spiritual protection when we need it.

A few weeks ago, David and I tried to watch something on Amazon Prime. Our connection “malfunctioned” and literally forced us to start watching the show “Dickinson” on Apple TV. We tried and tried to watch anything else, and this was the only show that would start. Once it started, we couldn’t get it to turn off, so we kept watching the pilot.

I often have uncanny synchronicities with shows or movies that echo dreams I’ve had the morning of or night before, but Dickinson takes the cake! Every episode turns into a confirmation and/or download. Each show explores a poem and presents a possible motivating life event. It’s spoofy, goofy and really well done. I’ve always related so strongly to Emily Dickinson, especially her love of privacy and her fascination and comfort with Death. You don’t have an exact Grand Trine of Sun-Moon-Pluto without turning quite Plutonian yourself. 😉 Plus, the nerdy English Major in me loves all the literary references.

Last night’s show (and much of Season 2) focuses on this poem:

I’m Nobody! Who are you? (260)

Emily Dickinson – 1830-1886

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

In any case, I’ve followed through on the instruction to post these thoughts and to remind people to bookmark my blog and write down the url in case you step away for awhile and cannot find the blog again. I keep hearing about this from people who had sessions with me years ago and recently tried to find me to book an appointment. I give them huge points for their successful effort, but wow: I’m pretty invisible these days. I have zero social media, and I don’t advertise.

You can find my blog two ways:

https://laurabruno.wordpress.com

http://asklaurabruno.com

You can use the Contact page form ( https://laurabruno.wordpress.com/contact/ ) or email me at laura@asklaurabruno.com .

I wish everyone a magical day … and hope you find your own perfect calibration on the visible/invisible spectrum.

Looking Back to Look Ahead

On this auspicious day, Mars and Venus cross from Capricorn into Aquarius, conjuncting at the same degree as the Saturn-Jupiter conjunction on Winter Solstice 2020. I know many people feel uncertain about the road ahead. Given cyclical time, sometimes a peek at the past allows a glimpse of the future.

No matter where you are or where you’ve been, you can choose where to focus your energy. I’m always struck by how different people’s experiences are even when these individuals share a location, certain natal aspects, or life experiences. We are much more than what happens to us. We also happen to the life around us.

Can you find the beauty in stark scenery?

Can you embody hints of Spring before Winter melts away?

Can you look with curiosity at the road ahead?

Thanks to David for yesterday’s photos. Wishing everyone the gift of presence as we move through multiple realities and chaotic nodes.

A Potent Dream: “My Brother, the Artist”

This feels like a collective dream — like “my brother” represents much of humanity right now. Immediately after writing down the dream, I logged onto my blog and wrote the March 2, 2022 ~ New Moon in Pisces post. Since the dream feels related to today’s New Moon, I’ll share it here on the actual New Moon day. I’ve left this unedited, so please excuse the transcribed dream dialog, where I drop the f-bomb. The dream feels cinematic and potent. I didn’t want to diminish its power by altering the words. If this offends you, please feel free to skip this post. 🙂

2/27/2022

2:57 a.m.

“My Brother, the Artist”

Awoke from a dream that seems important enough to get up and write it down. I was one of several children — three or four — of a larger than life mother who seemed to work in the fashion industry.

We were all grown children, but maybe just in our 20’s and early 30’s. The mom was a little like Maye Musk (Elon Musk’s mom), but not quite her. She was pushy. There was some kind of convention going on in what seemed like a really high end department store — maybe Neiman Marcus, or maybe it was an actual convention. There’s more to this part that I don’t quite recall.

The woman/mom had a lot of authority and perks. She gave each of us a credit card sized card — some kind of pass, and we could use this to leave the convention. We needed to hold it up high enough that the guards could see it as we walked out. They might still stop us, but if we dropped her name, it should be alright. Then they tightened security, so we actually needed her with us in order to leave.

One of my brothers looked like Chris Hemsworth (Thor) or his brother (who looks similar but not quite so beefy). The mom kept handing us different things to carry in flamboyant ways. One was a bouquet of hot pink feathers made to look like flowers. This is the only one I remember, but there were more.

The ceilings were really high, and there were glass escalators and wide open space with glass walls looking outside. I went to a mall kind of like this and can’t recall where it was. I think it was in Chicago. Marshall Field Building? I don’t think it has stores anymore, but at one time it looked impressive.

In the dream, there was all this posh stuff, but it felt like a prison because of the guards and because we couldn’t leave without the cards and then, without our overbearing mother. My brother (Chris Hemsworth) started having a nervous breakdown. He said, “I can’t do this anymore” and tried to walk out. This made a scene because the guards wouldn’t let him leave. He didn’t even bother to flash the card. When they asked for it, he said, “I’m out of here” and had a determined, but unaware air about him.

Our mom realized this would cause a huge scene and create stigma for her, so she gathered all of us and said, “Get out your cards. We’re leaving.”

We got them out and lifted them up, but the guards wouldn’t let us leave without first talking to the mom. She convinced them to open the doors and let us out, and this brother ran to the middle of the parking lot, then home. I sensed he was one step away from being institutionalized, that I had one chance to save him from this fate.

When I got to his apartment, he was sitting on a large chair, kind of rocking in fetal position. He didn’t look up when I said his name, but we had had a close relationship all our lives. I knew he was really an artist and that’s why this fake world was so toxic to him.

I said in a very cheery voice, “You did it! You never need to go to that fucking place again. You’re probably banned for life. You did it! You’re free. Now you get to paint.”

He still didn’t respond, so I took one hand and arm and kind of wedged it between his armpit/arm curled around his legs. I shimmied one arm there and the other under his opposite knee, and I gave him a ridiculous hug. I started crying, empathing with him and trying to set a tone where he could have an emotional release. He was so checked out, just numb.

I hugged him tight and said again, “You did it. You never have to go to that fucking place again. You’re free.” That fucking place meant Northwestern University and academia. “They’ll never let you in again, and that’s a good thing. You can paint now.” I mentally sent him telepathic images of his artwork — past and future. He didn’t overtly respond, but I felt him engage a little when he saw the future paintings.

I continued to hug him and rocked with him as I said, “I’m proud of you. So proud of you because you did it. None of us wants to be in that prison. That fucking place is insane. You’re the sane one. You! You’re the sane one. Don’t ever let them tell you otherwise.”

I knew I needed to get him to paint again. If he was at work on a masterpiece when the people came to his place, instead of sitting in fetal position on a chair and rocking himself with vacant eyes — if he was engaged as an artist, I could keep the doctors at bay. If they saw him like this, in the chair, they would lock him up for the rest of his life. I wouldn’t be able to save him, and they would medicate him so far that he would never be able to find himself.

I knew all this but knew I couldn’t alarm him. The key was for him to realize he was an artist — that this was the reason he couldn’t play the game anymore. This was why he walked out — not because he was insane. An inspired artist has leeway. If he was hard at work when they got here, I could explain that he had had a sudden inspiration — “You know how artists are” — and that his abrupt leave taking was inspired, not crazy. Also that they needed to go, to stop interrupting him.

I wanted him to be painting like a mad artist when they arrived to take him away. Over and over I kept telling him from my heart, “I’m proud of you. So proud of you for walking away. You never need to go to that fucking place again. I love you. I’m so proud of you for leaving.”

As I said these things, I kept sending telepathic visions of his future paintings. At some point, he turned his head and looked at me. I said, “You have it all. The looks, the body. Oh, that probably sounds weird given that you’re my brother, but seriously, you’ve got it. Besides the talent — which you have in spades — you’ve got ‘it.’ You’re the real deal. You can do this.”

He looked at me again and asked, “Really?” He smiled through tears and looked a little dazed, but on the wonder side of dazed instead of the ashamed and overwhelmed side.

“Yes,” I said, “Yes.”

He hugged me back, and I knew that he would paint again. He was already a great artist, but now I knew that he would fulfill that calling. By the time the would-be institutionalizers arrived, he was hard at work on a giant mural. I shooed them away and said, “Get out of here. Leave. You can’t disrupt his genius. Can’t you see he’s painting?! Artists need to take their inspiration as it comes. Get out of here. Stop trying to interrupt his work.”

I knew my brother and I would live happily ever after because he would keep painting murals, and I could live with him away from our awful mother. She would never find us here. She didn’t even know where it was, and she couldn’t get here. We were free.

END of dream journal.

I shared this dream with a friend who commented on its cinematic qualities. I replied:

Yes, I also think it speaks to humanity in general. The people trying to foment world war are unable to create such things without a collective reality buy-in. Narrative is VERY powerful. Imagination is powerful. When enough people walk away from the crazy, reality will tip to something more beautiful and creative. I feel we are on the cusp of that. 

If you haven’t read the March 2 ~ New Moon in Pisces post, it flowed through me in one fast burst after I recorded this dream. You can read it here.

Multiple Timelines

Multiple timelines are in effect. Not everyone is on the same trajectory, so tend to your own reality. Pray for discernment to follow the best path for you. This might look and feel very different than the path of those around you, whether in person or online.

Multiple options exist — some of them full on dystopia, some with moments of sorrow but also new levels of joy and regeneration. Creativity is as — or even more — important than consciousness, at this juncture. What kind of story are you “writing”?

To each their own.

Many will abdicate their creative power and get swept away by someone else’s narrative. This, too, is choice. Do your best to choose wisely — for you. Just know that choices exist.

Love and Blessings ….

Laura

Indoor Garden Update and Insights

I promised to give an update about some of my indoor gardening experiments, like growing lettuce by the window and cultivating pink oyster mushrooms in the kitchen. I deemed both projects a partial success, but ultimately decided not to continue with either.

The mushrooms grew like magic. I think this would be really fun to do with kids, because you could see the growth, hour by hour. The only trouble was they made me sneeze! The morning after the initial setup I felt like I had pepper inside my nose. I must have sneezed thirty times in three minutes. I suspected the mushroom substrate, but I didn’t sneeze again during the rest of the growth process.

We finally harvested beautiful pink mushrooms and made an Asian dish of onions, cabbage and mushrooms sauteed together and added to butter lettuce wraps. It tasted good, but after a few bites, I lost my appetite. I took a break, then tried again. My appetite evaporated the moment I picked up the lettuce wrap. This is a dish we’ve made many times with shiitake mushrooms, and I never had that experience. We took it as a sign that I had some kind of allergy or sensitivity to pink oyster mushrooms, and I composted the rest. Oh, well! They did grow. They looked great. They just didn’t agree with me.

The lettuce grew and turned out DELICIOUS! I love fresh lettuce in the middle of winter, and intend to try a different method next year. Unfortunately, the self watering window containers created sand gnat love caves, and I got tired of trying to monitor the birth rate. Those little guys are super annoying. They loved to dive bomb my head while I sat at the computer, or fly behind my glasses and tickle my eyelashes. Trying to bat them away meant cleaning my smudged glasses all day long. Putting the containers outside during temperatures above twenty degrees but below freezing slowed things down, but not by much. At some point, I realized this tasty lettuce required most of my time and attention. It just didn’t seem worth the effort.

What’s a Crazy Plant Lady to do?! David suggested we remove the former desk I had repurposed to grow lettuce by the front window. I gasped! “No, no, I LOVE the table! I love having more plants in that room. The solution is more plants.” He humored me, and now our living room feels very much alive:

I realize there are all manner of dystopian scenarios unfolding in the world right now, but it also feels right and important to focus on signs of life. We cultivate and nurture “reality” into being. Creating moments of peace, growth and light within ourselves and within our own sphere of influence helps us to show up in bigger and more positive ways “out there.”

Not every experiment works. Sometimes good results require too much effort to justify them. Other times, we throw ourselves into the process because it feels right, with no guarantee of the outcome. What matters — and creates matter — is the process of choosing, engaging, nurturing, cutting our losses, creating and engaging once again. Moment by conscious moment, we build our world.

And, no, I’m not just talking about gardening here. 🙂