Late last year, I had read this post and it was a dream she had that night. I chose to share it because it reminded me of a dream I had for this mmmother. Carine’s dream says (to me) “Hey, look you, it’s me! You! And I’m in her dream!” that is me. Recognition of aspects of the self in the swirly whirls of others.
This is the message I’m trying to shove out there in the universe! This is 100% representative of me and my… My message? What I’m on about, I’m all about authenticity.
- I wrote a comment on DM’s post about being a locomotive, needing to jump on and off all the time.
- I wrote a post about the influence of an ex, but I edited it and removed his name because it didn’t seem important to specify his name at the time.
- I wrote a different post about trying to prove to my love for my husband, and when it’s not visible it’s somehow deemed less significant…
- A million other pieces of imagery that mean stuff to me but probably don’t matter to you.
There was a period of my life where my ego turned maniacal and I thought of myself as quite… a powerful psychic. Psychotic, probably.
I thought my written words being used and contorted by others before me. That my spirit was screaming at me to reign it in, and the souls of others were piggybacking off my locomotive metaphoric machinations. Hah, sheesh. Such grandiose self delusion. I saw myself and my most recent self metaphors being in the words of others posted just a day later… I haven’t done anything at all except write some shit up on WordPress, and then sleep. That’s it.
If you subscribe to mysticism and esoteric belief systems then you would probably talk about psychic energies. If you are a skeptic or scientifically minded, this blog is my lab log. A public documentation of my experimental experiences with the eclectic esoteric.
Everything is just perception, perspectives, and all that I say is 100% conjecture.
I am the artist-scientist archetype, but my science isn’t even a science. Out of all the mandatory subjects at school, science is my weakest. As interesting and awesome it is, my head just doesn’t wrap around it. My brain is wired for humanities based subjects, not science.
In physics you’ve got to accept laws and principles and rah-rah-whatever. But there’s an understanding that there is some contextual based knowledge and shit going on in the background. All that subconscious or subatomic stuff.
This blog is about the meta-physics. But I’m not an expert on metaphysics, I lack any of the qualifying credentials. Any expertise is “honorary”, because I’m a bona fide armchair academic. To me, all of this is fun 🙂 I like it. But being fun doesn’t mean that it can’t be taken seriously.
I’m a fucking high school teacher. And this is my fucking life. This is who I am on the inside and out. Take it or leave it, I don’t care. I fart in your general direction.
As an educator, I really appreciate those moments when you can really reach an otherwise “unreachable student”… those kids who refuse to accept anything from the curriculum… you embrace the bullshit chaos and twist it, form it, shape it and make it a teachable moment, a fucking life lesson. I don’t want to teach “good kids”, they’re arrogant and obnoxious. They bore me and are fucking frustrating know-it-all’s.
I’m sort of like Jesus, but not. I agree with all the shit that he said. Even if he’s wrong. Because I’m right. I know I am. I just am. You can even let the children come to me. I’m a woman and do not at all give off any kiddie-fiddler vibes. Scouts honour. I’m not Jewish, middle eastern, nor an adherent to any establishment nor organisational group (except the NSW teachers federation).
So here I am, world. I’m going to teach you shit whether you like it or not.
I’m quite content with the sound of my own voice. I’m awesome with words, words are “my art”. I’m Elton John’s tiny dancer and I’ve got the moves like Jagger.
With words I can do the blah-blah much like the cha-cha.
I know I can be sensitive and have my little moments, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take what you’ve got. Let’s go at it. I don’t have thick skin but what you think might be “wah, having a sook” – no. Not quite right.
I am capable of feeling pain but my lamentations aren’t as they seem. I’m just shedding my skin like a shape shifter, and it’s not a pretty sight. I don’t tend to start shit, but I will always step up and finish it. No skin off my nose (hahahaha!!!!!!) I can do this all day.
This is me doing that thing that I do. And the only way to explain it is to show you.
Original, alternative title for this blog post: What do you even mean by ‘dreams’? it’s just a concept, dreams aren’t real. 5 October 2018.