dreams: March 20, 1999

house of strange familiarities

A woman is teaching me how to be a psychic, training me in the procedure of telling people's fortunes. She says to toss the coin, working quickly since the hourly fee is so high, and then to look through the 12 cards to find the order, letting the person's intuition help guide me. She is demonstrating for me. Noli is here with us.

I go walk into another room. There are sticks spaced around the room poking out of the carpet, and each one has a pair of underwear dangling off of it; they all have dark red stains from menstrual blood. Gay men are here with me. I go into another room. There is a bunkbed along one wall, and two lifesize plastic blow-up dolls are lying down together in the top bed.

the music of God

A group of us are standing around a table. One woman is making fruit smoothies with lots of exotic fresh fruits that are sitting in front of her. I have a cup in my hand, and I'm picking out some pieces of fruit to make my drink. I pull out a long slice of ripe papaya, as well as some mango. A young woman at the other end of the table urges us to contribute one dollar each for our drinks, explaining that expressing our gratitude is very important; I realize that since we're all Swatties, these smoothies are free, yet we shouldn't take them for granted because of it.

I hear voices singing. I don't know where they're coming from, but I hear them all around me, clear and loud, along with music. It's an incredibly gorgeous hymn, full of vitality and Divine energy. It is new to me, yet at the same time it is very old and familiar. It makes me feel like I'm coming back Home. I'm filled with strong emotions, so happy I want to cry. I walk out into a narrow brick street, and I can still hear the hymn. I run and skip and dance and laugh, soaking in the voices and music.

- FIN -

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