Here’s a page for dreams and intentions… Â dreams come to me in the night… intentions are when I ask my mind something such as ‘what do I need to know for today?’ and I wait to see if an image/sound/feeling comes to Â me. Â Maybe if I write things down I’ll see a pattern? Â Let’s see!
WARNING: This content can get pretty awful and violent. Â You may not actually want to read and further.
February 21, 2011
I wasÂ panicking, late for class. Â I had to finish a paper and find a computer lab to print the paper in and then get to class and turn it in just 40 minutes later. Â As I was rushing out the door to the computer lab I saw a man and I knew it was the father of my childhood friend Nico. Â “Bob?” I asked, surprised to see him there. Â He looked much older than I remember and a little confused. Â He was wearing jeans and a red t-shirt and it looked like he hadn’t showered or changed in days. Â When he started talking to me it became clear that he was drunk. Â He told me that he had a car parked outside and that he could give me a ride to class. Â In my mind I thought, “He’s drunk but he’s Nico’s dad and I have known him forever. Â I trust him.” Â So I said sure and followed him to the car.
As soon as he started driving I knew it was a mistake. Â He sped up too quickly and was weaving all over the road. Â I kept thinking to myself, “I trust him. Â He’s just in a lot of pain and needs a friend. Â I can be that person. Â I can help him.” Â So I was quietly talking to him, trying to get him to slow down and pull over. Â But we ran into a gas tank that was in a yard on the opposite side of the road. Â Instead of stopping he sort of laughed it off, pulled back onto the road and started driving even faster. Â “Stop, Bob! Â You need to pull over. Â This isn’t safe.” Â I had my hand on my seatbelt. Â what should I do? Â Should I jump out of the car? Â But if I did, I might get hurt. Â We were going really fast. Â If I didn’t, I might get hurt worse. Â And if I jumped I would be abandoning him and I didn’t want to do that. Â As I was having this internal debate I realized that we were about to run into the side of the building. Â We ran into it head on and Bob wasÂ unconscious. Â I needed to run back to the student center to find Nico, to tell him how much his dad needed help.
I kept checking my watch. Â I need to get to class.
On my way to find Nico I stopped to get a coffee. Â When I looked out the window of the coffee shop I saw the practice football field with metal bleachers. Â There was a football player on the bleachers with a full leg cast. Â He lookedÂ forlorn, like he was spending time on this bleachers because he missed the game so much. Â I could tell he was a football player because he was wearing a team jacket and he was clearly enormous, well over 6’4″.
All of the sudden there was a gust of wind, one of those micro-bursts, and the bleachers were picked up and dropped back on the ground in a twisted pile of metal. Â I looked around and no one else had seen it. Â The football player was trapped under the metal and couldn’t get out because of his broken leg. Â I ranÂ outside, calling for help, but no one came. Â With much effort I was somehow able to get him dislodged and pull him into the coffee shop. Â I kept trying to call 911 to get an ambulance but no one was answering my call. Â He told me to bring him to his friend’s room which was on the first floor of that building. Â Someone came to join me and we dragged this football player, who now probably had two broken legs, to his friends room and we had to pull him right through the middle of the student center. Â No one else offered to help.
As we were dragging him to his friend’s room we passed my kid’s father. Â He was with a bunch of guys and they were all drinking. Â “Look at that pansy ass pussy!” they yelled. Â “I would NEVER let myself be dragged around like that. Â He looks like such a dumb ass.” Â And on and on, laughing and ridiculing the football player. Â I was furious.
We finally got the football player into his friends room and as soon as we crossed the threshold I said, “I have to go. Â I have to get to class.”
“Wait,” the football player said. Â “My name is Â xxxxxx. Â What’s yours?” Â As soon as he said his name I knew that I had already forgottenÂ Â it because I was only thinking about class. Â I looked back and smiled and said, “My name is Nora. Â Murphy.” And the door closed behind me.
I looked for my kids’ dad and wanted to give them a piece of my mind. Â To tell them to have a little empathy. Â To stop being toÂ judgmental. Â Take the time to figure out what’s going on with someone Â before you start ridiculing them. Â But I saw that they were still drinking and laughing and knew that I didn’t have time to get into it with them because I needed to get to class.
I also wanted to find my friend Nico so I could talk to him about his dad. Â To tell him what had happened, that his dad wasn’t safe or well and that his dad needed his help. Â I sat down in a booth across from Nico and told him what had happened. Â His blue eyes filled with tears and he looked like he wasn’t surprised to hear what I had to say but was unsure what to do next. Â I knew he needed me to stay and talk to him but I couldn’t. Â I needed to get to class.
I rushed off to class feeling like there was so much I needed to do. Â So many important matters of the heart to attend to but I couldn’t. Â I had deadlines and a schedule and for some reason they seemed absurdly important.
January 16, 2011
I asked Ayrie, my intuition and my angels what I needed to know for the day and a name popped into me head. Â ‘Really?” Â I asked. Â I don’t have many positive associations with that name. Â But I was gently guided to the right one, a person that I always thought had been fired because of my frequently voiced concerns that he wasn’t doing a good enough job and it was hurting the program. Â But I was told. “See, you are wrong about that. Â There’s no way you could have been entirely responsible for that man being terminated. Â Other people and other departments had to have complained. Â All these years you thought you wereÂ solelyÂ responsible (and carried some guilt alongside the assuredness that it was the right thing to do) but you weren’t able to see the bigger picture. Â You will never see the bigger picture in that scenario because it’s not your place to know.” Â And I though that maybe my purple friend (who showed up while I was having this exchange) is also talking about Ayrie.
I was at the University and had three research partners. Â One kept abandoning me because she had a job. Â Another kept abandoning be because she was pregnant. Â And the third kept abandoning me because he wanted all of the credit and he kept going to meetings and conferences and purposefully leaving me behind. Â I was anxious. Â None of the work I needed to get done was happening because the people I needed to work with kept leaving me.
Finally it was the end of the day and I went to look for my shoes. Â I was wearing the Uggs that my parents have me for christmas. Â These are shoes from my real life and are a total treat because they cost much more than I would normally spend on shoes. Â Anyway, everyone had their shoes off and lined up against the wall but when I went to get my shoes to go home they were missing. Â I searched all over the building and eventually found one but not the other. Â I was freaking out. Â I couldn’t tell my family that I lost one of the boots! Â They would be so angry! Â So I had people all over the building looking. Â They kept offering me other black boots and I would turn them down because I needed to find the uggs.
Eventually I had to stop looking because Emily and Shiya showed up and I needed to drive the home. Â It was a classic dream where the car was out of control and I kept almost killing all of us because we were racing down a hill with narrow streets and archways. Â Eventually we were able to get out of the car but I was leading them through all of these places that weren’t safe, places that we weren’t supposed to be.
I ended up in a house that I was staying in with a bunch of women. Â I think is was a sorority house and all of the beds and bedding was on the first floor. Â I had been there before so Â I knew where everything was supposed to go. Â But no one was listening to me. Â They were all discussing amongst themselves and weren’t right, but people wouldn’t even look in my direction and listen to me (my frustration with people telling me that it wasn’t my fault when it clearly was?)
And then I thought about someone I loved once who didn’t love me back. Â Who loved someone who was skinnier, prettier, wealthier and more athletic. Â It still causes me great pain to remember this person.
January 15, 2011
I took a sleeping pill tonight. Â I needed a break from the nightmares.
Last year some time….
I’ve been thinking about this dream a lot today. Â It’s one that sticks with me and is nearly as fresh as the day I had it. Â I’m going to recount it because I think it reveals an important part of my psyche, one that I don’t let people see very often.
I was standing outside of a building with someone I love (this is an actual person in my life that I will not name because the dream was not him. Â He was used in my dream to symbolize the people that I am close to, the people that I love and trust the most). Â Let’s call this person Toby.
Toby stabbed me in the neck with a syringe full of a drug and dragged me to a roof-top patio. Â By the time he positioned me how he wanted me, I was naked, paralyzed and terrorized. Â The drug was one of those drugs that paralyzes you but leaves your mind andÂ awarenessÂ fully in tact.
Toby started to rape me and although my body couldn’t fight back, on the inside I was crying, afraid and ashamed. Â The rape was long and brutal. Â Just when I thought it might be over another of his friends came to rape me and then another… This went on for the whole night. Â And even though I was still crying, afraid and ashamed, I also started to feel glad… Â relieved? Glad/relieved that they felt I was worthy of raping. Â Glad that I was at least desirable enough to rape. Â They could have gone for someone better, prettier or more attractive, but they at least found me desirable enough to rape. Â I wasn’t so repulsive that they couldn’t even get an erection.
Several days later they wanted to do it again. Â I was soooo ashamed and afraid. Â But I thought it was the closest I would ever get toÂ physicalÂ (and therefor emotional) intimacy with a man so with my head hanging low I walked up to the roof top patio on my own volition and let them drug me again and brutally rape me again.
January 14, 2011
Well, this one takes absolutely no explanation. Â I woke up crying after this dream.
I was in aÂ beautiful, luxurious,Â light filled home with pale yellow walls and lots of windows and I felt safe and happy in the home itself. Â But I kept walking over to the window and looking down (we were on the second floor) and everything was dark, cold, gray and dead. Â It was Minneapolis. I wasn’t allowed to leave my house.
Someone knocked on the door and told me Ayrie had died. Â I was devastated. Â I fell on the floor crying (I am crying again as I write this). Â I should have been with him but I couldn’t have been because I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Â Eventually I picked myself up and started wandering through the house, wondering what I was going to do now that Ayrie was gone? Â Shiya was there all of the sudden and he was following me around, confused.
The doorbell rang again and a Japanese Captain entered and told me that someone else I loved had died. (I don’t know who).
After he left I was hysterical and wandered around the house some more. Â I still couldn’t leave so I was wandering some more, wondering what I could do in my home to feel less sad.
The doorbell rang again and a group of kids came in. Â They looked like they were from a war zone. Â They were dirty, dressed in rags, and some of theme were missing body parts. Â The came to tell me that more people I loved had died. Â That people were going to keep dying until I left the house.
I didn’t know what to do. Â I couldn’t leave (although it was never clear to me in the dream why I could leave the house and for some reason my dream me didn’t ask either. Â I just seemed to accept it).
So my dream me shut down and when into a deep state of numb despair. Â It was the worst feeling. Â People were dying because of me, was too scared to do anything about it so I just died inside even though I was alive.
January 14, 2011
January 13, 2011
I asked my intuition this morning what I needed to know for the day. Â I saw all of this movement and then the energy formed into pages and I saw hundreds and hundreds of pages flash before my eyes. Â The pages turned into a complex and moving pattern. Â This was a message to read the writing project today. Â The pages are clear… and data to me are patterns with meanings. Â So here I am, in a coffee shop, ready to read.
I was at a family reunion with me teenage daughter. Â The family lived in a small town and they were so amazed that we had left to live in the city. Â We were on our way from Minneapolis to Boston and had stopped at the family reunion for a day. Â The didn’t trust us because we were from somewhere else and because Ayrie was diseased and Shiya had down’s syndrome. Â They kept their distance… there was even one point where they all lined up to file by us, look and comment. Â My daughter was outraged. Â Why were they treating us like this? Â And why would I stand here and take it? Â I explained that they were scared. Â Scared of the unknown. Â Scared of change. Â So their judgement of us wasn’t personally about us, it was more a reflection on them and that I was there with love in my heart.
I realized that I had left my luggage in Minneapolis so I decided that I was going to go back there to get it before going to Boston. Â But then I realized that Ron McClain (headmaster at Parkmont School where I used to teach) was at the family reunion and I felt like I had to find him. Â I looked around a vast field and saw Michelle (also used to work at Parkmont). Â She smiled at me kindly and pointed to a wooden door across the field. Â “You know where he is, nora. Â The same place he used to be.” Â I felt so relieved to walk across that field and open the door to find him. Â He didn’t seem to want to let me in so he joined me outside. Â I told him that I wanted to work with him again, to learn from him, to have meaning in my life again. Â He looked at me and told me that he would need a 3 year commitment from me. Â “What do you pay? Could I afford to live here with my kid(s)?” Â He looked at me again wisely, letting me know that I was asking the wrong questions. Â I knew that I was supposed to be asking, “Is this where I really want to be? Â Am I here because it’s comfortable? Â Can I really commit for 3 years?” Â And I had my answer. Â I needed to move on.
I realized that I didn’t have time anymore to go back to Minneapolis for my luggage so my daughter and I hopped into our convertible and started to drive down the long,Â beautiful, sunny road to Boston. Â The wind was in our hair and I felt nervous but free.
December 31, 2010
Ayrie was dying in a hospital in Boston. Â They wouldn’t let him out of the hospital and I could only see him for an hour a day. Â I wanted to move to Boston but all of the apartments were too expensive. Â I kept looking and looking and looking, devastated that Ayrie was dying and I couldn’t be with him.
Dr. Hartnick was in one of the apartments that I was looking at and he was there with a bunch of other doctors. Â They were going to rent the space and I felt defeated. Â Another place that I couldn’t afford. Â So we said our goodbyes to the land lady and I noticed that for some reason we had both taken our shoes off. Â Maybe because it’s winter outside and we took our boots off? Â We had the same socks on. Â They are socks that Ayrie and Shiya have, teal with navy blue stripes… they are in the photo to the left.
I think the socks mean that we have something that is the same… or something that connects us… but it’s something that’s usually hidden.
I was tiny. Â Like a round seed. Â No one could see me. Â I was dying.