my journal
september 19, 1999

i'm writing by candlelight. warm and flickering. time is squishing together into oneness. past and future are in the present. i'm back in childhood.

so much is happening under the surface, just outside of reach. forest this reality is not far from my dream state. fuzzy line between the two. it's all coming back to me. the time of megan f., phoebe, summer sun, woods, trees, butterflies, deer, tolman creek road, stars, miles, mimi, jacksonville, britt festival, pine needles, sap, voices, music, angels, jumping, green water, lithia park, bbq smoke.

i listen to the cruzerinho, and it sounds old; now i think i must have known it when i was a baby. familiar. intense. my present body feel dense and cold and not all here. my bones ache: knees down to feet. my throat feels weird, like there's extra stuff in it. my brain tumor spot is pulsing with movement, which feels good. all my dreams are right under this first layer, and i can almost smell them again.


September 20, 1999

hot hands. my feet have light comfort under them. again, like last night, sleep doesn't come naturally to me. energy. my eyes see differently now. i feel like i've come back in time to see this one. all totally familiar, like a deja vu. rain outside. cleansing and purifying. my hands feel like they can feel more...

i now open myself to receive the guidance.
i ask for affirmation that this experience is to be trusted.
my heart knows, but my brain questions.
no words held this.
radiant.
resting between the trees.
abyss advancement is turning up the heat and we can collect the bark of shine.
all in alignment, i can hear the voices.
rinse clean; let purity open into the light.

mirror trees

asset.
token.
lickity split.
personalities ride the wave of the american dollar.
tickle.
the frequency is high right now.
smolster.

i've been here before.
this lifetime?
either my childhood or the existence i knew before this incarnation.
or another me from before.
or a parallel realm with me the whole time.
so so so so familiar.
long awaited.
never left.
like a fever.
like being a newborn baby.
comfortable and stretching simultaneously.
a dream while i'm awake.
i trust the hands of my virgin mother, our protectress, Mary.
she has shown me this path before.
now i see it again.




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