Image by Fabio Martino


The Secret Sharer


Updated on 06 January 2003

Time: 10:08 am EST
06 January 2002
"Priestess of Avalon" by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Catch Me if You Can
Grimborg by Gjallarhorn
My dreams

Entry: Approaching Insanity

The other night I had the following dream:

Dream 04-05 January

I'm in a hotel performing with a group of large (not particularly overweight, rather, big-boned--I was reminded of drag queens, though they weren't) women in the hotel dining room/entertainment hall for a big group of guys from the Mob. We knew that we were going to have to sleep with them after the performance, so we're walking around the room trying to find the lesser of the evils. I finally settled on this short, curly-headed guy who's cute but not very nice. I'm singing a siren's song to him when actual sirens start to wail, signaling a quarantine. The short guy grabs me and trys to pull me out of the hotel with the herd of stampeeding people. I tell him that I must find my friend, that I must stay because she is my very best girlfriend. The guys eyes get big, thinking he's gonna' get two at once, and being totally appalled by this, I slap him hard enough to send his tiny body rolling out the door to the hotel.

I begin to search the dining room knowing that my friend has been turned into a head of celery by the virus. I'm checking people's plates and at the table where the big-wig mob guys sat is a huge, hollowed out baked potato with the remnants of broccoli and butter and cheese still clinging to the skin. Suddenly, I can't remember if she has become broccoli or celery and I have to ask the little specks of broccoli if they are her. No answer--so I run out of the hotel.

In the streets, I hear a woman in passing say in a frantic voice that they've even quarantined a stalk of celery! I turned on my heel and returned to the hotel. There I met a young female doctor who ran the quarantine. I asked her about my best friend, about the celery. She said she did remember but that if the quarantine was broken, we would all die. I take her by the shoulders and begin to plead with her, and beg her to let my friend out. Of course, she looks at me like I'm insane. But I'm begging her to let me have my friend so that I can take her to someplace more natural to rest. I'm sobbing and looking this woman in the face, imploring her to let me have my celery friend. I say something like, "I understand the rules and you procedures but you have to understand that if you don't let me in, I will do whaever I have to to get my friend. I hope someday you will love someone and be loved back in the same intensity as the love you've given. It is the most amazing thing and you will find you'll do anything for them." She finally agrees and I hug her, saying that she will be a hero to all who have loved before and beyond us. She smiles as I wipe the tears away and run with her back to the hotel.

As weapproach the building, the parking deck begins to cave in. People and cars are falling off the metal structure as it caves in floor by floor. Doc says we have to hurry, so we run faster.

Once to the quarantine, we open and close the door really quickly (assumably to not let the germs escape). She opens the door to containment and I'm vaguely aware of the fact that we have no protective gear on. She pulls out this plastic tray and there in it lies my friend in the form of celery. Except, she's been broken into individual stalks and I can tell she's in agony due to this. I look at the doctor and call her a monster. I'm horrified! Looking down at the celery/friend, I can see her in both forms, her body contorted and broken to fit the confines of this box. The doctor appologizes, she didn't know. she can hear my friend moaning in pain even though she can only see the celery. I say that I have to change her into something more portable so that I can easily carry her concealed to her resting place.

The doc says that she has just the thing and directs me to this huge steel roller. We put the celery on it and as she rolls around the steel pins, my friend is flattened into slices of Swiss cheese. I'm frantically trying to grab all the scraps and holes while gently laying each slice into the plastic box. The doc gives me the lid and before we close her up, we hear the faint and raspy whisper of "thank you." My heart is broken, but I run out of the hotel, thanking the doctor and heading for the nearest woodland.

I'm going insane! As I told this to Eric (shortly after waking up from it), I started crying as that realization set in. Of course, I checked my trusty dream interpretation guide by Mary Summer Rain. Here's what she says about the following symbols:

Celery- "denotes difficulties that require acceptance"
Cheese- "signifes those aspects of life that are complete, full"
Quarantine- "advises of a need to separate self from a negative, harmful situation or relationship"
Mob/Mafia- "exemplifies manipulation for self-gain; strong-arm control methods"

What do I think: I usually agree with Summer Rain on her interpretations. I immediately thought that this was a food dream, my obsession with eating and how to remedy it. It isn't very often that I have a dream that I can't pick apart and apply to something in my life. People who pay for this should really just get a book and do it themselves, it is much easier than you think. So, using Summer Rain's interpretations and translating them into my own words: I need cozy up to the idea of strictly regimenting my diet/nutrition and accept that food will always be something I love, realizing that my obsession/compulsion is something that I need to lay to rest, as it is not natural and unhealthy. No doubt that it will be difficult, but it needs to be done. I have not been very happy with my progress on Operation: RADAR thus far. I am still eating like I did, not exercising as much as I should, and then feeling guilty about it all. There is no room for this in my life anymore.

I have started the year off well when it comes to telling or prophetic dreams. I had another in the previous week about my great-aunt dying and the lack of communication in my symbols, just hyper-realistic, in your face detail that I can't deny. I hope to capture more of my dreams in the dream journal that I have neglected for the last year. My clear dreams had been rather sporatic and I'd never write them down. Typically when I DO write them down, I tend to have more dreams that I can recall in the morning. Taking the time to write them down is often a problem when you leave yourself an hour to get ready before having to leave for school. Taking 15 minutes to write things a long as the above dream is detrimental, especially when they are this distrubing.

Time: 4:06 pm EST
02 January 2003
Nothing at the moment
LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring
Baba Yaga by Annbjorg Lien

Entry: Happy New Year!

Endeavoring into LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring today. I finished the first disk before Eric came home for lunch, then indulged in the second (this is the Extended Edition DVD, by the way) after lunch. Eric has had the score for the film on his stereo as the alarm from eight to nine am. It's fun to know the score so well and then watch the film (though only AFTER you've seen the film, not before) to see how and where exactly it was used. I'm in love witht he violins in certain parts--the obviousness of classical instrument playing in a piece written for the fiddle in "Concerning Hobbits," the wonderfully screechy run of the approaching Nazgul in various places, and the fellowship theme isn't bad though redundant when listening to the score alone. Better to have the visuals with it. I'm totally over Enya though. The music written for the Elves (the part when Sam and Frodo witness the wood elf exodus en route to Bree, and the Lorien elves' lament for Gandalf) is so much better and far more interesting than Enya's same-ol-same-old major chords in keyboard choral.

I'm currently reminding myself why I adore Annbjorg Lien. The most recent Bukkene Bruse album, on of winter and Christmas songs, is as lovely as the title suggests. Beautiful, almost monkish vocals accompanied by organ, whistle, and Annbjorg's hardanger fiddle. So now I'm listening ot her latest studio album "Baba Yaga." Excellent modern Nordic folk. Actually, what's surprising--I purchased the new Gjallarhorn album "Grimborg" and have yet to even open it. They have replaced on of the members with a gifl who play various winds and percussives. I'm certainly curous, but so far I like their first album the best.

James has written to say that he's had some difficulty with the MIDI on his computer and his new recording software he gifted himself with for Christmas. He can hear nothing. His complaint is that for everything he knows about recording he feels like and idiot when there is only one simple thing standing in his way. I understand perfectly as I am in the same predicament. I have all this music in my head and no real way to translate it. I can sing, and I can write lyrics that are expressive and poetic, but I have remedial skills as an instrumentalist. That is frustrating because what I write could sound so much better than it does.

Happy New Year to you all!

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