Journal # 04.04.15

I awoke one night not a month ago, with madness in my face and eyes, about to scream. I awoke alone in my bed with a kitten or two beside me, and sat up straight with such a rush of adrenaline uncommon at an early hour. I awoke with a wave of nausea spreading up through me, and a clear vision of my nightmare just had. I awoke knowing the evil in my dream had found a new tactic around my defenses, and come up from inside me. I awoke spitting, trying to spit out her venom. I awoke spitting and hyperventilating now, trying to exhale the toxicity inside me. Was I possessed? Was it a succubus? Who had it out for me, I wondered. And in the days to come, I was worried. Very worried. I was tired. Very tired and feeling the residuals of the terror of that night. I finally reached out for help, just today, to a friend. My intuition told me he was the one. And the way I translated all that he offered, was as follows... We may naturally want to gather good energy and hold it close to our hearts, to heal us. We cannot hold on to energy. This blocks the source.  It is crucial we let it cycle through us and release it back out into the world. "We want to  continuously flow the good energies out of us, on a permanent basis." You cannot capture good energy. It will spoil and become toxic. Everything I have, I must give away. I reached out for help and help was there. Indigo. I got away from the world and I kneeled down to pray. Indigo. My friend had given me that which I lacked. Indigo. I saw myself standing. I saw myself running. I saw myself holding and blocking the source. What I realized was the evil in the dream, the entity, was myself. She was me. I saw myself and then my self disappeared and reappeared inside me, frothy and toxic. Part of my self. What I must do is let go of the goodness I have been receiving, release it back into the world. And it starts at my fingertips, typing away on the keyboard, giving you back what I have been given.

Journal # 03.04.15

Wednesday. Subtle forms passing through. The migration of shadow figures towards the darker side of the earth. They cannot stand the light. Some were resting in my closet. You might call it hiding, but it was after dark and nothing to hide from. I tend to keep my apartment light enough to see, dark enough to hold a mystery. I was blending some wild blueberries in the kitchen, and accidentally caught some stray entity in my smoothie. This misfortune was allayed by the wonderful taste and texture of subtle form.
 GOODREADS GIVEAWAY! 
I drank the blue potion and watched the shadow play in the closet. I sat down on my couch, took a deep breath and waited for the sound of the water boiling. My hands ran across my denim knees. The steam began to whistle through the spout. My tongue, blueberry blue. A sudden remarkable insight arrived, at the bottom of my wild blueberry potion. I can call on my family for encouragement. For help. I can literally pick up the phone and call my mom or my dad or my brother or my aunt or my cousin, not for anything other than to feel the connection. The blood rights. The raison d'etre. A lucky one, am I...