Lucid Dreams & Holy Heathens

I vaguely recall  why I quit drinking- aside from getting pregnant with my first child. Drinking makes my dreaming more lucid, more vibrant, more strange. I slept, but it was an uneasy sleep. I cannot say exactly what it was that I was dreaming about, but I have a recollection of bits and pieces. I think sometimes that it's flashes of past lives or some intuitive subconscious that I choose to ignore.

I remember being a kid & kids do stupid things. That's just the way it is. There is no logical explanation for it. I remember trying to hold my breath as long as humanly possible (believing that I could hold it until morning) & falling asleep. I had a strange dream that night and for some reason it still rings clear as a bell.

In this dream I was propelled back into medieval times - at least that's what my guess is by the clothing that I was wearing. I was a young woman in my teens or early twenties. I was arrested by the king's guardsmen and locked in a tower rather then a dungeon. They did this so that I could continue to look into the courtyard as they prepared my death. I was accused of heresy. I remember being stripped  of my earthly possessions  before I was taken to the courtyard. Everything except for my undergarments, then being tied to a stake and set ablaze.  This was long before I was old enough to comprehend what was taking place in my dreams or that there was religion beyond what my parents and our church taught me. I often wonder if the young woman was even "me" or remnants of someone whom lived long ago.

I was raised roman catholic. I'd really rather not tread there, but I feel the nagging need to do so. I recall either being christened or it was my "first holy communion". I'm not sure as this was quite some time ago. I remember being told that I had to go to confession and tell my sins before I could participate in the ceremony taking place. I freaked out, started crying and carrying on. I didn't want to confess because I had nothing to confess. I was a child. Aside from disobeying my parents once in awhile what could I have possibly done that was wrong enough to stain my soul? Who does that? Who forces a child into confession?

It was then I knew that I was different. It was then that I grew a disdain for the church and its' archaic practices. I was forced into false confession, just so I could complete the ceremony. It wasn't until I was in elementary school that I learned of other religions. I had a friend. We were close. Her name was Rebekah. She came into school one day and told me we could no longer be friends because she was Jewish and I was Roman Catholic. My heart sank. I cried for 3 or 4 days. How can someone so close to you suddenly turn their back to you?

As I grew older and more knowledgeable I spent many days sitting in the local library studying religion, phenomena, the paranormal, philosophy, and even fairy tales (including myths, legends, and lore). I feel everything is connected on some level and to gain a better understanding of religion I had to know more about all of these things.

Across the globe religions are very much the same. Some shrouded in more secrecy and lies then others, but they all have the same basic principles and end goal. If people could just see this perhaps the world would truly be a better place. Then again there cannot be light without dark, we cannot know love if we do not know hate, and we cannot find beauty in the most sinister of things if we don't understand them.

The one question that has always gotten my panties in a knot is why do we feel the need to congregate to worship? I can understand the "need" to feel connected to others through a higher consciousnesses, but wouldn't worship be more intimate and meaningful in your own home with a few family members and/or friends? There is just so much controversy and debate over public religiousness that rebellion to public worship may just be the answer everyone seeks. Although, controversy and outlandishness draws more attention then private worship and practices. As we know the more outlandish and controversial the more attention that it draws -  whether it is good or bad it's still attention.

I've learned quite albeit over the years and continue to do so and there is only one conclusion I can find myself constantly coming back to. I don't know, perhaps I'm just odd, but I believe that it doesn't matter what you have faith in as long as in the end you have faith.

The beginning of letting others in & some of my Art pieces

So, tonight I drank and on a work nigh none the less. For the first time in a long time. Just 2 drinks. They were delicious. I had Pinnacle Tropical Fruit Punch & Hawaiian Punch all mixed together. It was.. relaxing. Nothing interesting as I am still VERY sober and aware of my surroundings.

It's nice. I can almost feel my creativity block shifting, lifting just a tad.  So, tonight I thought I could share a few of my pieces of art with whomever may be out there, reading this. Although, I am very well aware- I am probably very alone which is not unusual.

Being alone isn't necessarily a bad thing per se. Alone is what I am used to. Even when I wasn't- I always felt I was. I grew up kind of lonely. I moved around quite often. Many people would ask if I was "military brat" which I was not. My parents just couldn't find where they belonged and we were along for the ride.

There were many ups and downs over the years, but we always had each other. I grew up with my parents being my best friends. I know, sad, but true. I did have some best friends through the years, but they have come and gone as I moved and our lives shifted further apart. I tried many times to keep in touch, but it didn't work. By the time I moved in somewhere I didn't unpack boxes because I knew we would just be leaving as quickly as we arrived.

People already had friends and rarely needed more. Often times I would just bounce around from group to group or be cast aside with others. I spent most of my time with the other outcasts and underclassman because they hadn't developed a tight nit group yet. Yet, somehow I always remained "happy" at least to the outside world. Enough of that for now. That is something I'll come back to later. There is so much I can discuss on this topic it's not even funny.

Here are a few pieces of art for today. Then I'm out otherwise I will be here for GOD knows how long because I'm feeling the urge to ramble about religion and music and countless other things that many might consider nonsense. Nonetheless, I have to save some fun for another time. Without further adieu, here is my "share" for the day: Perhaps, one day I'll share where my inspirations come from...

Sanguinarian's Cross

Death & Confusion  

Death/Coffin Tat I designed

The "Grinch" Devil

Lord of the Flies Beast

Naked Tree Lady

Vampire Angel (Darkness & Light)

Earthy Pentacle

I took myself for granted

I'm not really quite sure why I started a new blog. Maybe, I just need to get back in touch with me. I stopped working on my other blog in April-ish. This is the first I've sat in front of a computer to write. Maybe, I just got tired of focusing my blogging life on my kids and the world that ensues parenthood. Perhaps, albeit of both.

My entire life revolves around parenting and my children. There was a time in my life where that wasn't so. I was a "free spirit". I had time to stay up all night, party, actually have friendships, and time for myself. I guess in a sense I took myself for granted.

When, I was younger I just knew that I was going to grow up (even though growing up is a trap) and that I was going to be a writer, an artist, just something phenomenal. These are now things I used to be. I've been at a creativity block since about 2-3 months after I turned 18. It wasn't until my twenties that I became a parent and forgot who I was.

My creativity block is a tricky one. You see when I was 18 I really fell in love. I was no longer in high school  but still dealt with a lot of high school drama among friends and even in my own life. Life is a long winding road with ups and downs and crazy ass turns that you're just not always prepared for which is what happened.

 I turned 18 in August 2001. We started dating on my birthday. He died that October. The last thing I did with him prior to his death was get into an argument over some stupid shit. We all used to hang out  at this Diner. That's where we met. We knew each other before we even met. I could feel his presence there. I turned to him and announced who he was and he did the same to me. It was in that moment, that meeting when we had an instant connection however short lived it may have been. I never had the chance to tell him what he truly meant to me.What I wouldn't give just to feel his touch one last time.

Prior to his murder I had started a piece of art. He told me that I shouldn't have drawn on that blank canvas that I would need it, but I did anyway. I finished the painting shortly after his death as well as 15 or so poems after sitting up in my room for 3 days in tears, listening to My Dying Bride, my final physical connection to him.

That's when it happened. I couldn't write anymore. I have only picked up a pencil once since then to draw a portrait of my friends' brother after he died. She had no pictures of him and I felt bad for her. They were so close. I swear it's this town. It sucks the life right out of you.

After he died and even before we had met, my relationships were always troubled and never had a happy ending. The same still stands to this day. Although, I haven't done any dating in the last 7-8 years. Not since my on again off again entered my life, but that is done now. No more. I just can't take it anymore.

I've looked at many beautiful pieces of art wondering if my art would have been that great. Maybe. I really don't know. Maybe if my life would have been different then it is now. Although, I do wonder. *MY MOMENT OF VENTING ABOUT PARENTING* Single parenting sucks.*OKAY I'M DONE* O_o

I want to share some of my art and poetry as it might help me get over this creativity block or at least I am hoping so. I've missed me for so long I don't know how to reach out to myself and pull me back from wherever it is I am lost at. Probably some dark abyss at the end of the world. I know somewhere I still exist. I just have to. I can't let that 12 year old little girl who was nominated for the Dickinson's Award slip away. She needs me and I need her now more then ever...