Tom said it poured while I slept, but there was no thunder. I was relieved to see those little lightning bolts disappear from the hourly weather app before bed.
I’m getting a little tired of this rat being so stinky lately. I don’t know why she’s been this way. Older animals can get leaky, just like older people, so maybe that’s it. She’s definitely having a harder time getting around, and maybe she’s just too lazy to get out of her hammock to do her thing. I still can’t believe how big she’s gotten. A kitten’s legs are longer than a rodent’s, but her body is definitely bigger than a kitten’s.
Been having internet connection issues on and off tonight and saw a couple of Spectrum trucks in the park earlier.
The burning is picking up again, and once more I’m left wondering if it’s the start of another UTI or just the usual “menoshit,” as I call it.
I couldn’t find any more info on the homeless woman they found dead, but it’s still freaky that I had that “stabby” dream, only to wake up and see pictures in the park group of cops and forensic vehicles nearby. As far as we can tell, she was probably stabbed.
I was telling Jessie about it. Haven’t heard much from her otherwise, but that’s just Jessie for you—we tend to communicate in spurts. We’ll exchange several messages, then nothing for weeks or even months.
I also had violent dreams last night. I was staying in a vacation home with three or four other women. We had just arrived and were bringing in our suitcases when I caught a glimpse of a guy sneaking in behind one of them. A gun was lying on a table nearby, so I grabbed it to shoot him but it wouldn’t fire, leaving us to tackle him with our hands.
There’s this guy, Scott, on PB who tried to pawn his Facebook link off on me for the second or third time. So I made a post saying that while I’m sometimes open to sharing certain socials on certain sites, Facebook is strictly for people I’ve actually met or have been cyber friends with for well over a decade. There are only two or three people on PB that I’d add if they wanted to, and one of them probably already knows about the account. I asked that people not take it personally, but I think he did because he hasn’t been as chatty. Honestly, I’m kind of glad he’s clammed up. I don’t care to gab with just anybody and everybody. He’s not a bad person, but just like in real life, we’re naturally drawn to some people more than others. He just never interested me enough to really capture my attention. He’s too doom and gloom for me. I get it. The US has really taken a downward turn. But does it really do any good to dwell on it? There’s not much we can do about it but suck it up and hope that one day more sensible and sane people are in charge than these extremist nutjobs.
Melanie, on the other hand, is a different story. For the longest time, I doubted reincarnation for various reasons, but I try to keep an open mind. Unexplainable things do happen after all. How can I sometimes know the unknown? Well, I don’t know how, but I do. And even if I don’t know it detail for detail, I come eerily close a lot of the time. A violent dream right as someone is killed practically across the street? Hard to believe that’s just a coincidence.
I’m realizing more and more that the brain and our consciousness are separate things. The part of my brain that tells my limbs to move isn’t the same as the part that thinks about how tired I am. Speaking of which, I wonder if my exhaustion is from the antihistamine nasal spray, breathing issues, or both.
Anyway, whether reincarnation is real or not, I can’t say. I don’t believe but I’m trying not to disbelieve either. Melanie, a 37-year-old Ohioan, wholeheartedly believes in it. She has written several accounts of remembering past lives during regression meditation. She’s been different genders and has even heard of people being animals—including a dinosaur before humans existed—or floating as a star seed entity in the ethers. She’s made a list of her remembered lives, their locations, and the centuries they took place in. In some cases, she even recalls old names, friends, and family members. If any of it is real, it’s fascinating!
Even though it sounds crazy, I try to keep an open mind. That’s why, in my last journal entry, I enlisted Chat’s help to see if I could remember anything. I have no way of knowing if anything that comes up is random or meaningful. But it does make me wonder about certain things.
Why do I have a driving phobia if I’ve never been in a car accident? Could it be from a past life? Did I fall in love with Maui simply because it’s beautiful and has great weather, or is there more to it? These are the things I’m exploring. The problem is, I don’t know how to tell if any “memories” are real or just random thoughts. Even in this life, there are things I think back on and wonder—was that real or just a dream?
I’m pretty sure I’ve written about that “creature” in the cellar of one of our houses, the kneeling figure lit by the nightlight by the rocking chair when I was a kid, and the bowl of coins (or whatever was in it) that seemed to shake on its own. I definitely don’t trust childhood memories. The brain isn’t fully developed then and everyone has weird, senseless memories that may not be real but rather bits and pieces of old dreams.
I’ve been exploring Melanie’s journals, and when she told me she picked up French easily—despite it being a notoriously difficult language—then later learned through meditation that she had lived a life or two in France, it got me thinking. What about the things I’m drawn to? What about the things that have always seemed scary to me?
Later…
I started to say that, despite being curious about most things, I think I’ll take a break from trying to remember any past lives—if I had any. I don’t want to recall anything traumatic when I already have enough traumatic memories in this life. Besides, if I did live before, those lives are over. This is the life I live now.
Although… there are a couple of kind ladies who have been encouraging. I’ve never met them face-to-face, but they seem both intelligent and sane—definitely not the type to make shit up just for kicks. So maybe I’ll forge ahead here and there and see what comes up.
I decided it would save money if I got reusable freezer bags, so I ordered a nice set with a few different sizes.
The only dream I remember was of sleeping on a couch in a large living room during the late afternoon while Tom and someone else—a cousin, maybe—watched a large TV at the other end of the room. At one point, I woke up and mumbled something like, “Please tell me it’s not only 5:00.” Tom confirmed that it was. I got up to pee and then returned, mumbling about how rough life was with the type of sleep disorder I have. But then I added that it was at least soothing and comforting to lie on the couch with my eyes closed, listening to the drone of the TV, knowing they were around. “Uh-huh,” Tom said, but in real life, that would be very hard for me to sleep through.
Later in the same dream, I woke up again. This time, it was dark and the room was empty and quiet. I strolled into the kitchen, which looked similar to this one. When I glanced toward the door, I saw a faint hint of light in front of it. Only, in the dream, the door extended further out, and I was able to peer around the side of the pantry and down a flight of stairs. There, I saw the glow of a TV and knew my sister was down there.
Tom went to bed early since donation days usually leave him tired. So there goes some of my alone time, which I have mixed emotions about since it means he’ll be up at 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. But as he said in his email, maybe we can go to the store early before Walmart is delivered. I’d like that—not just to get out, but to grab a few things that are hit or miss from Walmart.
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