Last night I woke up from a dream about my artist friend, Adam. He is one of what Kate calls my “lost boys”.
We haven’t seen each other in 15 years but last night I dreamt that I broke into his apartment and washed his dishes. It was late at night and he wasn’t home. He had something on his counter that I took to be a mini dish washer but that I now think was an autoclave — he is a tattoo artist, as my conscious mind knows. But I don’t know what his current apartment looks like so I don’t know if I actually visited it on the astral plane.
In my dream, as I was about to leave his apartment, he arrived home from the bar with a girl. In my dream he had a moustache. The girl had long dyed-black hair and a gothic look. I was nervous because I was an intruder and I didn’t know how they would react. But he was just really happy to see me, recognized me right away and thanked me for doing the dishes. She was thankful as well and reached out to touch my face. She looked right into my eyes — hers were this bright, pale blue — and said, “You’re so pretty!” over and over. It was nice. Then I woke up.
Sleepily, I thought, “I will send some love to Adam”. First I’ll explain why, then I’ll tell you what actually happened.
I know Adam from my punk rock days in high school. He was one of my scarier-looking friends; neck tattoos, shaved head, boots. But I just never saw him that way, as scary. I saw the way he was with his Polish mother, who was a single mom. We’d go to his house and eat her home made cheesecake. When we went off to college she sent him some of her homemade pickles, and he was really stoked to get them. I got to know him when he dated a couple of my friends. One day we were all hanging out and he said, “You’re going to think this sounds crazy, but my cat talks to me”. My psychic friend didn’t bat an eye: “Of course she talks to you!”
I really got to know him in my Grade 12 drama class. We were probably the most “dramatic” of that drama class: He would show up with his shaved head in a smoking jacket and a dress shirt with these layers of lace spilling out of the cuffs of his jacket, carrying a walking stick and basically looking like a Mellon-Collie-and-the-Infinite-Sadness-era Billie Corgan. I showed up in patterned fishnets and a short black dress with a satin collar made of a velvet so thick that it prompted a kid in my English Media class (who I’d privately nicknamed “Butthead” because he totally looked/acted like the cartoon character) to ask,
“Hey, are you hot in that?”
Me: *blank stare*
“Are you hot?”
*shrug* “I feel ok”.
“…Because I’ll sweat for you”.
Adam and I partnered up to write and perform a play about vampires. We ended up going to the same college for art, and remained friends until he moved away and we eventually lost touch.
And so it is with my “lost boys”, it really would take a lot to convince me that they’re not good guys, deep down. No matter how scary or obnoxious they occasionally appear to be to other people. Because I see this other side of them.
Adam and I are friends on FB but I had the thought recently that maybe I should un-friend him because we’ve gone in such different directions. The particular brand of punk rock ideology we espoused in the 90s — corporations are bad, you can’t trust the government, etc. seems further from me all the time, but more intrenched in him, and darker. Rather than mellowing out, he’s actually become more intense. He updates with photos of himself at gun clubs, looking like a character from an old war movie: scowling dirty face, squinting into the sun, smoking the stub of a cigarette. He’ll post links to political theories that sound particularly paranoid even though I’ve heard so much of it before. Articles about supposed governmental plans to tattoo and track people. It’s just not where I want to place my attention these days.
So I woke up from my dream about breaking into his apartment and washing his dishes, thinking, “I’m going to send Adam some love”. There was no judgment around it, just that I’d done something nice for him in my dream and he’d appreciated it so much that I wanted to carry it forward.
But I wasn’t going to just surprise him with it the way I had in my dream, so I sleepily asked his higher self for permission. I wondered how unattached he might currently be from this universal love and how it might be received. He responded immediately with a few words and many images and impressions.
“Of course I feel it. I feel it when I –” (shows me the tattoos he designs and inks). But then he sends me this sense of overwhelming fear and says, “I’m so scared”. I get a quick succession of ideas and images: His career as a tattoo artist — his need to warn his friends that the government might be thinking about tattooing and tracking people — Nazi camps — his Polish heritage. Then I understand where his fear and anger is coming from, and why he can’t let it go. I felt like he was carrying the fear ancestrally — from the womb, in his energetic body, in his DNA. I’m not sure he’s even consciously aware of it but it seems like he’s agreed to work out a piece of that karma. Global events like that have such huge repercussions. And I know that he’s psychically sensitive because he talks to his cat.
I heard recently that as babies and young children we agree to unburden our parents by taking on some of their stress. We do this in part to keep our caretakers functional. For my part I can remember being 3 years old when my parents were having some money problems and were thinking about selling the small family cottage. I felt all these waves of unnamed Bad Feelings that I would now categorize as “sadness” and “guilt”. They weren’t mine; I had barely any memories of summers at the cottage. But they felt like mine. I cried and my stomach hurt. My mom asked me what was wrong and I didn’t really know, all I knew was that I felt bad. So she gave me some Asprin. On some level I know my higher self had agreed to take that on. But we don’t need to take these things on indefinitely; I still feel psychically spongy but I’m much better at sorting out and releasing these feelings these days, and offering help in ways that feel better to me.
In the light of day I wonder if this is what happened to Adam as I had suspected initially, or if he actually died in the camps and reincarnated into his family intending to help and warn people. Is this why he now plays soldier and remains so vigilant that this must never, ever happen again? Either way it amounts to the same thing. So, I sent him some love in hope that it might ease some of the burden of the debt that he’s agreed to carry and process.
I don’t feel like I “read” him; I didn’t intend to and I didn’t pry. I just opened up a channel and offered something: love. In return I was offered something else: context. Still, I’m definitely not going to FB message him about this, although I really wish I could:
“Yeah, I dreamt I did your dishes last night, then I woke up and talked to your higher self. I really get your whole militia/vigilante/survivalist thing now. Hang in there, it’s going to be ok”. You just can’t say that to people. And you can’t take people’s problems away, as they say. Everyone’s gotta do their own thing.
Lastly, as I was falling back to sleep I remembered another part of the dream. Before I’d found myself in his apartment we were walking across the ancient ruins of a city that was literally crumbling like sand beneath our feet. Huge post-and-lintel marble slabs, enormous fluted columns. Darkness everywhere. I wondered if we’d known each other before, if we’d been allies in war in some other life.
5 thoughts on “What’s past is past.”
That was beautiful Sweetie!!It gave me chills. I think sending love is so awesome. I learned reading this that and as Kate says to not read others without permission etc. I sometimes though ask my pendulum about people. I wonder if that is ok? I miss my college friends and especially my dance company friends. I have been ex communicated. I went back home to Vegas to become a Show girl and they found this to be unacceptable. To not be such a starving artist. Well, even doing work like that is art and we all were starving at times still. Most artist do. It hurts so much!! I loved them all so much!! My dance partner Eric ( I have thought about so much) And wonder if he is ok? You touched something here with me in this article!!Thank you!!! Jan xx
Date: Thu, 13 Jun 2013 22:20:06 +0000 To: email@example.com
Thank you so much, Jan! I’m so glad it resonated with you — it’s wonderful to get that kind of feedback. 😀
I think it’s ok to ask your pendulum about people. My personal parameters around it would be that I might ask things like, “Should I do business with this person?”, or something like that. “Would I be happy working with this person?”. “Should I buy a house/car from this person?”. That kind of thing. But in general my body tells me that kind of thing, so I don’t really need to ask.
I pick up other things about people doing the work that I do, cleaning a hospital. I’ve experienced a sudden panic that I’ve lost my wallet even though I wasn’t carrying one, only to have a nurse walk by a moment later asking if anyone has seen one laying around. I’ve had my fingers stiffen and swell up, and I’ll know one of the patients has arthritis. But, I won’t necessarily know *who* has it.
The analogy I draw is, like, I might overhear things psychically in the same way that you would overhear a conversation in a public place. I don’t fret about that stuff too much; it’s rarely that personal anyway. (Besides, if it’s something I *really* need to know, i.e. for my safety, my guides just shout it in my ear. That’s happened a few times). But I don’t spy. I wouldn’t do the psychic equivalent of tapping someone’s phone. On the other hand, when it comes down to it, we’re all connected anyway. I think the key is to approach people with compassion, whatever form the communication takes.
Sorry to hear you were frozen out of your dance community. I think it’s really a shame when artists condemn and judge each other like that. We really need to support each other, it’s *so* important. It’s something I’m really learning right now. Or, re-learning: In order to really welcome success into our own lives as artists, it is important to celebrate the successes of others. It’s a law of attraction thing, it tells the universe that it is something that we like to see.
I like that you have joined the blog Sweeie, although I feel weird calling you sweetie, lol.
I recently attended The Sacred Maidens’ Lodge…The Travelling Grandmother is crossing Canada, she’s a shamanfrom Squamish I believe and this woman is on a MISSION let me tell you…anyway, she told all the women who came that she dreamed us there and we were there because we had come to heal our ancestral lines, a fresh start for the new generations. Seems to be a lot of that going around at his time doesn’t there, like a cleansing of the old, some interesting things happened that evening.
Your post seemed to tie in and has me thinking to send love back along the ancestral line also not just to the present and future.
Thank you 🙂 I enjoy what you have to say.
Hi Shauna 🙂 Ha! Well you can call me Kat if it feels better for you, either one is fine.
Wow, that sounds like an amazing experience. Is this the woman who held the event?
So interesting that that’s a theme that’s coming up, ancestral healing. I think it’s really important. I know I’ve personally had a pattern of discounting the importance of cultural tribes, and kind of disowning the ones I’ve been associated with. And also of judging the past in kind of a broad way. Now I feel like these tendencies have been kind of alienating me from humanity, in a way. And maybe that was the point. But I feel like I’ve grown out of it now. Now I think, “Well, I’ve probably participated in a lot of this in past lives” so I’m able to look at it a lot more compassionately than I had before. Rather than looking at the past and thinking, “Why would people *do* that?” I might ask, “What would make me do that?” and see what kind of intuitive answers pop up. I try to do that when looking at the world today even, when I see things that seem senseless or disappointing to me in some way.
As an addendum: I have no idea why this post is called “What’s past is past”, since uh… it isn’t. Is it? But I’d forgotten to title it before I posted it, and went back in to edit, and asked out loud, “What do I call this?” and that’s what I got. And it was cemented there, there was no alternate title.
Also after I wrote this I looked at my friend’s photos again and I realized that his girlfriend looks like the woman from my dream. Crazy. And, someone had tagged him in an old photo (OLD, like a century old). A guy in a military uniform that looked *just* like him — height, body type, body language, face, hair, expression. His friends were asking, “Past life?” …Crazier still.