Shadow Demon Dream – December 11, 2016

This was a lengthy dream set near my childhood home. It was night, and I was wandering the neighborhood. I saw a shadowy figure; when the face “popped” into view, it was a man’s face, twisted by a demon. I sent it away by calling upon the power of God and Jesus. A male voice (I thought it was my Dad) asked me about my belief in their power. I answered that their power is good against lower demons. Higher demons have to be decapitated with a sword.

I continued wandering. I saw a shadowy figure projected on a green, metal box on someone’s porch. I tried attacking it with a sword, but it seemed to be painted on. The owner of the house must have called the cops, because I could hear them coming. I went to another yard to “hide” behind short, rounded hedges. I teleported to my childhood home.

Apparently, I was familiar to the cops, because they came to my home when they didn’t find me in someone’s yard. I don’t know how they got in, but the cops came in. I hid by turning invisible and shrinking myself.

Then some guy I don’t recognize tried following me. I’d teleport, and he’d follow. So I teleported to places in Dallas, TX until he gave up.

There was another incident, where I faced a higher level demon. I turned into an angel and used a sword to vanquish it.

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Thoughts about Rape – September 27, 2016

I read this article about this female author’s new book called (I think) “Fight like a Girl”. In the article, she says that some men see women as “rubbish”. I felt there was a decent tie-in regarding some males’ views about rape.

When you look up “rape,” you find that it’s deemed a “violent act” where the victim is forced into a sexual act against the victim’s will. There is no legal “she shouldn’t have dressed like that,” “she shouldn’t have been there,” or “she shouldn’t have consumed substance X”. There are lawyers (and judges) who think otherwise, but they’re flat out wrong. 

When you look up “rapist,” you find out rape isn’t about sex all that much. It’s about power, domination, and/or control. Or to explain a “rapist” in a simpler light: he’s someone that “can’t get it up” like a normal man.

Some rapists use substances to coerce a woman into complying. The most commonly-used substance is alcohol. Yes, guys. Getting past a girl’s defenses like this is still rape. Using any means to get sex from an unwilling partner is still rape.

Really. Seriously. If you want sex from someone, put some actual effort into it. I don’t mean lie or use other coercive means. I mean, get to know the person. Date for a while. Spend at least 6 months to a year together. 

Trust me. If I can survive most of my 44 years alive without sex, then so can you.

Thoughts about “All Lives Matter” – September 24, 2016

I ran across this meme on FaceBook today:


Yes. Syrian refugee lives matter. Most of the people in Syria are honest, hard-working individuals, that are finding it very difficult to survive in their own country. And no, they’re not all Muslim. There are also Christians among them.

The old Ten Comandments that I read as a little girl said absolutely nothing about lesbians and transgenders. Actually, gays aren’t even mentioned in the Ten Comandments either. I know later in Leviticus, it has this rather obtuse law about “a man shall not lie with a man as he would with a woman.” If God really wanted to outlaw gay relationships, wouldn’t “no sodomy” make more sense? Besides, Jesus was pretty clear on this: “Love thy neighbor.” He gave no exceptions. So if you believe in obeying Jesus, then it’s way past time you stop picking and choosing who you should care about, because a good-hearted person cares about others. Even those that are “different”.

You say “unarmed black men should comply?” Cripes! I’ve seen news reports where minorities have complied, and the cops beat the snot out of them! Compliance does not guarantee safety when around poorly-trained, greenhorn cops. There are so many of them that are ignorant about the laws that they enforce. And there are those that totally suck at dealing with the public.

The food stamp/assistance issue: Being poor is not a crime punishable by inhumane starvation! For the record, many states do limit assistance programs. If a person is still on some kind of program, it is due to still meeting legal guidelines. Let’s take my disability case. I was allowed to keep food stamps going, because the Federal government says people who have been declared disabled by trained medical professionals can get it. The other thing to consider would be my income. Since it fell under national poverty guidelines, I qualified. That’s the important thing to remember: all assistance programs are extremely regulated. And it’s not easy to get on assistance either.

Religious faith/no faith: If your God meant for only your own church’s version of Christianity to be the only “true faith,” then everyone would believe the same. They, ideally, would see just how “good” your church’s version is, and convert. After all, who doesn’t want to be a part of something “good”. Maybe because these “outsiders” can see the bad things being taught, bad things they don’t believe is right tone taught.

As far as the phrase “All Lives Matter” is concerned, there’s only one intended meaning. Only rich, straight, white Christian American man lives matter.

Thoughts on Dr. Phil’s “Get a Job” – September 20, 2016

One of my cousins just shared this meme:

dr-phil-get-a-job

And this is from a cousin who is disabled herself. So yeah, you can imagine I’m just a tiny bit pissed off about this tacky comment from someone that pretends to care about others.

I’ve worked since 1996. I’ve paid my taxes. Since I was declared disabled in 2014, I have received SSI. That money comes entirely out of my own Social Security, and no other taxpayer pays for that dribble of income. When I say “dribble,” I mean roughly $600 a month. Ratty apartments in major cities cost more than that, and that doesn’t cover bills, utilities, food, or transportation.

 

Do you think only minorities or drug addicts are on this list of “people that don’t work and produce”? Think again. Single mothers are on the list. Veterans too. And then there are people like me that suffer from schizophrenia. We can’t “work and produce,” because too much stress means we can wind up going postal. That’s not good for other coworkers.

So… What, are we supposed to be forced to line up at a long ditch and be massacred because some prominent mouthpieces (ahem… Dr. Phil) say we’re “worthless”? That’s sure how we’re treated. Are these people even human inside? Cripes! Even four-legged animals have shown more compassion than some humans show each other! You’d think a well-known person like Dr. Phil would care about unfortunates like myself. He’ll never know what it’s like to be poor and unable to work.

We really need to start holding these talking figureheads accountable for spouting such heartless nonsense. One person can’t change the world. But a large enough group of individuals can.

Thoughts about Drug Overdose Deaths – September 19, 2016

One of my so-called FaceBook friends had the gall to have pictures about some poor soul that had overdosed on drugs at a Dunkin Donuts. What really sickened me, the comment maker says that these people should just go somewhere private and just die of their overdoses. Why waste money reviving them, when they’re probably not going to get the help they need later? That’s the line of thinking there.

News flash: I have made three drug overdose attempts in private. All attempts were suicidal in nature. The first two attempts, I just tried taking a fistful of Benadryl. The last time, I tried a fistful of Benadryl and a bottle of wine. As you can clearly see, none of my attempts killed me.

Like anyone that needs help, I had to admit I had a problem. Then I had to find where I could go to get the help I needed. It’s the same way with these other people that overdose.

If you’re the kind of person who thinks it’s a “waste” to help someone that overdoses, you’re a sad excuse for a human being.  You may look human, but inside you’re a demon. No truly compassionate human being wishes other people to die. And you can’t know what’s driving someone to overdose. Maybe it’s simple drug addiction. Or maybe it’s suicidal tendencies.

Seriously, you say you want someone who overdoses to just die? What about when Life body-slams your backside into the pavement? How strong will you be when Life parks a semi on your chest and laughs at you? Just how tough do you think you’ll be when you feel trapped, hopeless, and alone, with no way out?

I’ve been there. It sucks to no end. But unlike you, I’m not going to wish you to die if it’s ever your turn to experience what I’ve been through. I hope you get the help you need instead.

Thoughts about “They’re Going to Take Our Guns!” – September 19, 2016

Every political cycle, there’s always someone claiming that the politicians are going to “take our guns!” Yes, we’ve had isolated incidents where government tried to force registration of guns. And there was a case where guns were taken from homes after Hurricane Katrina.

There are plenty of Americans that have weapons caches hidden in the hopes that the government won’t find them. So even if the weapons at home get confiscated, there’s a backup out there somewhere.

And then there are the people that have put up information on how to make homemade firearms. If you’re curious, Google is your friend. So is YouTube. Even the government has printed books that tell you how to make homemade munitions.

I’ve heard, “Just make the bullets really expensive. Who’s going to want to shoot someone else if it’s $500/round?” Uhh… Ever hear of a thing called “reloading”? This is a process where you take the spent brass, punch out the used primer, etc. until you get a reloaded round. If you practice at the range, it’s not unusual to reload brass. Initial setup is expensive. But when you’re looking at $20 – $60 per box of rounds, you do wind up saving money in the end.

You know what’s sought with attempts at gun control? It’s meant to keep criminals and the mentally ill from purchasing firearms from merchants. It still fails to prevent private sales. Or theft.

Where do I stand on “gun control”? I favor concealed carry permits. I’d like to see a national license that is recognized in all states, much like a driver’s license. If you can pass the FBI’s scrutiny, then by golly, you should be able to get a gun. And yes, learning proper firearm safety is a good thing too. Learn how to shoot it, when not to shoot it, how to take it apart and clean it, then put it back together…

And yes, I would consider myself a “Liberal”.  And I used to be terrified of the dang things. Still, I read books about concealed carry, including the different “rules” about when it’s okay to defend yourself, and when it’s not. I also learned non-firearm self-defense techniques, because there are situations where you’re legally toast if you whip out a piece and shoot someone dead.

So, in truth, please calm down. It’s plain impossible for the government to “take all of the guns”. There’s always going to be someone out there making their own, for instance.

Thoughts about Kaepernick – September 16, 2016

Okay, this article is what got me all bent out of shape last night: Entire 49ers Team Just Learned Some Bad News From Police After Refusing To Cut Kaepernick.

If you read the article, the local police force is wanting to refuse to volunteer as security because of Kaepernick taking a knee during the Anthem. It also states that the officers that serve as security get to watch the game for free. That’s right. Ingrates in uniform are complaining about watching free football; something that fans have to shell out a pretty penny to watch. I have an idea! Let’s kick the cops to the curb and put private security on the stadium. Jack the ticket prices up even more and make the cops pay to watch like everyone else!

One officer says “Kaepernick’s actions are creating a hostile work environment.” Dude! You’re a cop! Your job is a hostile work environment every dang day! It’s always been hostile for cops. Just go back and review the Prohibition days, or when drug lords had armor piercing rounds. If you think being a police officer is an “easy” job with no risks, you don’t need to be one.

So what did Kaepernick do that was “so bad”? He sat on his knee when the National Anthem played. That’s all. He didn’t desecrate the flag. He didn’t take part in violent mob activity (which is what these marches sometimes devolve into). Kaepernick didn’t rob, rape, murder, or commit genocide. But people sure do act like he did all of that and more. All because he refused to “follow the crowd” and peacefully protest.

You know what? He’s right. Minorities are being shot dead in the streets, whereas white boys get taken alive. Look at all of the recent mass shootings that were done by white guys. They weren’t gunned down like dogs. There’s a night and day difference here, folks.

Plus, my Dad served in Vietnam. He was a Jehovah’s Witness. He could have gone to jail in protest, but he felt it was more important to protect our freedoms. And Kaepernick got to exercise one of those freedoms that men (and women) have given him. My Dad would gladly tell you that Kaepernick can do what he did, because Dad risked his life so Kaepernick (and other Americans) can exercise their rights to free speech and the freedom to peacefully protest.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops watching Kaepernick take a knee actually wanted to storm the field and beat Kaepernick senseless. But it would have proven his point. And there would have been too many witnesses. You know why I think they wanted to? Because that’s what us Americans do to each other when someone doesn’t “follow the crowd”. And that’s all this amounts to: people upset because one person didn’t do what they expected him to do.

And while we’re discussing shootings, why aren’t our cops being held to the same standards as private citizens? In certain states, you aren’t allowed to shoot someone dead unless the person breaks into your home and is coming toward you. Shoot them in the back? You’re toast. Shoot them outside? You’re toast. No. Private citizens have to learn how to apply different levels of force. Cops? It’s either tackle or kill. Why is it private citizens can learn hand-to-hand combat, how to disarm someone wielding a weapon, or use other non-lethal self-defense methods, while cops can just go out and shoot someone because they “think” they perceive danger?

You know, I had this one noise complaint where I called the cops in Farmers Branch, TX. They sent their idiot blonde cop. I answer the door, raking a nail file over my fingernails because they’re crappy. I’m crying my eyes out. My posture shows no sign of anything other than depression and the feeling of defeat. What does the cop do? He backs away like I’m going to freaking shiv him! Idiot couldn’t read body language, even when it involves the whole freaking body! What did he ask me instead? “Have you taken your meds? Maybe you need to up the dosage?” Incompetent boob! Psych meds are not Tylenol! It takes a month for a new dosage to have any effect! Yet this donut-muncher wants to pretend he’s a doctor and a cop? He’s not fit for either!

Over the years, I’ve dealt with three different police departments. The ones in Paris, TX and Farmers Branch, TX seemed to be rife with cops that were just there to collect paychecks. I remember one event in particular where I had a noise complaint and the cop was, “Well what do you want me to do about it? I can’t arrest them.” Gah! I don’t want you to arrest them! I want you to pull out your little book of citations and write a ticket!  But noooooooo! The cops in both towns refused to write any tickets. They consistently refused to do anything about harassment!

I could go on for a long time talking about my experiences as a single white woman living in the South, and being ignored because the entire region still believes in the idiotic “Good Ol’ White Boy” clique. Why, the few times I was taken seriously involved female police officers! The parade of men in uniform should have been a flipping fashion show!

We the taxpayers need to demand our money back until the police departments shape up. The cops are supposed to know the laws that they’re enforcing, and what level of response is appropriate for the given situation. But all I’ve experienced is one competent dog catcher and two police forces that would have been better dressed as clowns!

Thoughts about “Get a Life” – September 15, 2016

I can’t tell you how many times people have told me to “get a life”.

Think about who you’re saying this to, just a moment. You’re telling a bookworm that’s traveled some, has lucid dreams/astral travel on a regular basis, and who has many fandoms to call “home” to “get a life”?

Do you mean, “go get some sex” or do you mean “go out and party”? My dream self gets plenty of sex. I should open up a freaking porn shop if I could just download the crap from my brain to disk. (Like this dream I had recently about being in my childhood home, and it slowly filled up with sleeping naked men… but I digress.) And I have no use for partying. Never have. My idea of a “good time” away from home is visiting a coffee shop several times a week and visiting with a friend or two.

I’ve seen the Colorado Rockies numerous times. I went to Yellowstone back in the 80s, before the huge forest fires. We went to California for lottery tickets, and on the way back, we blew the fuse to the A/C in Death Valley. I’ve been gold panning in Colorado. I’ve seen the Royal Gorge, with a plethora of whitetail deer wandering the highway looking for handouts. I hiked to the top of Seven Falls. Dad and I had gambled in Laughlin, NV and Las Vegas, NV. We also gambled in Shreveport, LA and Vicksburg, MS. I’ve witnessed a valley full of clouds from Skyline Drive, which we started in Oklahoma and ended in Arkansas. I vaguely remember a trip to Branson, MO as a little girl.

More recently, I was invited to join friends in Italy, back in 2010. Our first stop was in Venice. My then roommate and I got separated from our friends on the ferry; good thing I was there, because I remembered what the train station looked like. And I’d never been there before, so figure that one out. Then we spent some time in Florence the next day. Beth showed us her favorite jewelry shop: Vaggi. I saw this coin purse made out of silver chainlinks. The rest of our two weeks was spent in Rome. We stayed in an apartment across from the Colosseum. We visited the Spanish Steps. We sat in a piazza where the artists worked. Street performers were everywhere. We saw the Vatican. There was just so much, there’s no way to describe it all.

Now on to the “bookworm”. I’ve read Piers Anthony’s Xanth and Adept series. I’ve “traveled” to a myriad of fictional worlds. I’ve read Lovecraft. My reading has delved into survivalism, herbalism, and even a few scientific topics (computer programming and astronomy come to mind). I’m a nerd and a geek; I own both proudly.

As you may have guessed by reading this blog, I dream some pretty “far out there” stuff. I’ve traveled to other planets. The Earth flew out of orbit in one, and before it froze, it was caught in another star’s orbit. There have been “incursion” dreams where Lovecraft horrors have tried entering our world. I’ve seen flashes of past lives, as men and women. Heck, there’s so much I’ve done in the dream/astral realms, I’ve practically lived many lives in this one.

Fandoms. There’s a list for you. They include the original Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Danger Mouse, Yu-gi-oh, the X-Files… And to beat all, I usually find myself experiencing dream states in these fandoms. It always seems to be some adventure that never appeared in the series.

Now what was that again about “get a life”?

Dream of the Mysterious Plantation – September 15, 2016

In this dream, a woman was talking about ideas to renovate and make money from this large plantation that she inherited. The town’s mayor suggested that she just tear down the buildings and build a factory. Other people didn’t like that idea. I suggested that they try making the plantation a historical landmark, but that idea was shot down. Finally, it was decided to renovate the buildings (a mansion and some smaller residences) and turn it into a working farm. The smaller residences would be for housing migrant farmers and their families.

They did amazing work renovating the buildings. We’re talking about really ornate work with nice wood paneling, and just plain opulence everywhere (in the mansion anyway).

An accountant and this little Chinese woman went to wander the estate. They came upon a set of trees that formed something resembling a Chinese dragon.

chinese-dragon

When night came, the Chinese woman bowed to the stand of trees in greeting and reverence. The stand of trees turned into a Chinese dragon spirit, and it swallowed both of them whole.

Then this European dragon appeared, dressed like a pimp. He forced the Chinese dragon spirit to cough up the Chinese woman, because “We like her. She’s Dragon Lady.” The Chinese dragon did as he was told. Pimp dragon told him, “You’re going to need a charm to protect yourself now. Because if any of these humans chops down one of the trees that make it possible for you to appear in spirit form, then you’ll be killed.” The form of payment consisted of three gold rings. One set with rubies. One set with emeralds. And one set with sapphires.

Later, the son of the family that inherited the estate wanted to leave home. He was tired of his overbearing parents. But while sitting under the Chinese dragon’s “head” tree, the boy spilled some wine at the foot of it. The Chinese dragon spirit appeared and told the boy, “You can do much better than running away from home. I can make you the owner of this estate.” It took years for the promise to be fulfilled, but that’s how I discovered that the Chinese dragon would grant one wish, but only if you gave it some wine first.

I had a hard time choosing between God powers, infinite knowledge, or infinite creativity.

Dream involving Dennis the Menace – September 14, 2016

I dreamed I woke up and found myself working in a coffee shop in a city somewhere. It was the morning shift. I didn’t know where anything was, what it was, or how to even do my job. Dennis the Menace came in with his parents, and things went downhill from there. Apparently, Mr. Wilson wanted a coffee wake-up call, and I didn’t know about it. Then Dennis’ father ate some celery and went to the bathroom. Dennis’ mother said the father was allergic to celery; I was to give him a cinnamon apple instead. I couldn’t wait on the father to come out. I had other customers in line. I went to this one man and he asked for some kind of donut coffee. I had no idea where that was either.

I became so frustrated, that I quit my job mid-shift and walked out the door. That’s when I found myself on the sidewalk, surrounded by intimidating marble buildings. I walked down the sidewalk. At a crosswalk, I noticed one man reaching into his suit as he approached a man standing on the opposite corner. I told the guy standing at the corner that I thought the guy approaching him intended to shoot him. But it turned out the second man had just dropped his wallet. I wandered along, and it seemed like the second man was with me for a ways.

We came across the dead body of a young woman slouched against the wall. There was a mark on the wall that looked like three lines meeting in the center. The lines were wavy, An arrow, also in blood, pointed at the dead body. We kept wandering, and we kept finding more and more dead bodies with the same markings on the wall. Most of the dead bodies were of women. I started panicking, so I ran. It felt like the man and I were attacked.

I ran, and I kept seeing Dennis the Menace and his parents everywhere.

I managed to get away.

I soon found myself in a small community walled off with a tall wooden fence. This suburb was where Dennis was supposed to live. Some kids were having serious discussions with adults, especially a police officer. There was a big hole in the fence, which was painted green. The kids didn’t want to talk, because then the “crab people” that lived on the other side of the fence would move them. So I asked for a baseball bat, and we went outside the fence.

The “crab people” looked like miscreant teens. I started clubbing them in the head with my baseball bat. Other teens decided to try doing likewise to me and the other kids. The other kids with me were getting picked off. So I turned into a dragon and barbecued the miscreants.

Having triumphed over the “crab people,” I found myself back in the city. I was near some stairs with the remaining kids from the suburbs. The kids were thrilled, because Santa was landing in his sleigh, something they haven’t seen happen in ages. I picked up a lit candle and carried it in the crowd gathered there. My candle blew out, so I approached a woman sitting on the stairs and re-lit mine with hers. We got to talking, and I found out she was a reporter. She gave me her card, asking me to tell her the story when I was able.

Well, I woke up reciting the story sleepily.