Love and Fear

It was a little after midnight in Florence, Italy. I had squeezed the last drop of pleasure from my 9-day visit to the city I have grown to love from somewhere deep in my soul. My plane was leaving at 6:00 a.m. so it was time to head back to the apartment I had rented and get a few hours of sleep before the long journey home.

This apartment was just a block or two outside of the busy tourist square of Santa Croce. The street was somewhat dark late at night, but the building was quiet and secure. I felt completely safe in the neighborhood and I had enjoyed the opportunity to live more like a local and less like a tourist. So as I walked out of the well-lit square and headed down the darkened street, I thought nothing of my safety.

There were some very drunk, very happy, Italian college guys behind me and another man, about 30 or 35 years old walking just slightly ahead of me and off to the side. I was lost in thought about my beautiful experiences in my soul city over the past week and a half, feeling sad to leave, and laughing at the antics of the guys behind me, when I noticed that the other man had slowed his pace and was now walking almost next to me. I slowed down, let him walk ahead again, paused on the side of the street and let the drunk college guys pass me, creating a buffer of sorts between me and the man.

For the first time in all the time I had spent in Florence, I felt uneasy. I tightly grasped the old-fashioned skeleton key that I would use to enter my apartment in between my fingers like a weapon. I could see the door to my building a few steps ahead. As I slowed down, preparing to unlock the door, I saw the man turn his head just slightly towards me, then he moved off to the side and stopped just past my door, letting the college guys pass. Once again, there was no one between us.

True terror filled me. My hands were shaking as I shoved the key in the lock, pushed the door open and slammed it behind me. Immediately after I slammed the door, someone -- I assume it was the man (who else could it be?) -- began knocking on the door, the pounding becoming more and more insistent as I ran up the stairs to my first floor apartment. It was like every nightmare I've ever had where it felt like I was running through quicksand, only this time, it was very much real. I shoved my way into my apartment, locked the door, then collapsed on the bed sobbing.

I have been afraid a few times in my life, but I have never experienced fear like that. I am not sure what would have happened if I hadn't slammed the door to the building fast enough, but there's not a doubt in my mind that the man would have pushed his way in. Did he want to rob me? Did he want to harm me physically? There is no way to know.

The next morning, as my plane lifted off, taking me away from the city that I love, I cried many tears. Some were tears of sadness to be leaving, but others were tears of anger and frustration that fear had crept in and tarnished my love.

Usually I am good at recognizing the lesson in an experience after I have some time and distance, but in this case, I am still struggling with what the Universe had in mind that night. What am I supposed to learn? So this time, instead of sharing the wisdom that I gained from a particular experience, I invite you to share with me. What am I missing?

Feel free to reply in the comments below, or on Facebook where I will post the link to this blog. I look forward to your insights.

What Dreams May Come

Lots of crazy energy out there lately. This leads to lots of crazy dreams. But are these dreams really that crazy, or is there a deeper meaning trying to make itself known through the maze of our subconscious?

I believe that dreams have a deeper meaning -- a lesson for you to learn or a message to be received. Maybe you have been ignoring some things in your waking life that need attention. Maybe you are overthinking a situation. Dreams allow the messages to bypass your rational, thinking mind and get straight to the soul of the matter. Well... until you wake up that is, when those beautiful, divinely inspired messages must then pass through your real world filter system.

As you transition from the dream world back into your waking consciousness, this filter system (the ego) reaches out with a big, old fishing net and grabs the messages you received while you were dreaming. The fishing net has holes in it that allow the stream of consciousness you experienced in your dreams to slip through to your rational mind, but it captures the substance of the dream (the fish). The rational mind (the fisherman who really needs the fish) inspects the stream of consciousness, sees that it's just a bunch of useless water with some sticks and leaves and other things that make absolutely no sense and throws it back into the ocean (the Higher Consciousness).

That's where I come in. I analyze and interpret your dreams using many of the traditionally accepted symbols, along with a healthy dose of intuition. I go back in and find the substance, changing the essential elements of those dreams into a form that you can make sense of in your waking life.. You can call me a Dream Alchemist.

From Merriam-Webster:

 Definition of alchemy                         

1. 1 :  a medieval chemical science and speculative philosophy aiming to achieve the transmutation of the base metals into gold, the discovery of a universal cure for disease, and the discovery of a means of indefinitely prolonging life
2. 2 :  a power or process that changes or transforms something in a mysterious or impressive way … the practitioners of financial alchemy that transformed the world of money in the 1980's … — Gordon Williams
3. 3 :  an inexplicable or mysterious transmuting 

"Alchemy and alchemist are in fact older words than chemistry and chemist in English. Alchemists believed that lead could be “perfected” into gold, that diseases could be cured, and that life could be prolonged through transmutation, or a change of some essential element into a superior form."

My process for a full dream analysis and interpretation is unique. When someone shares a dream with me, instead of simply picking out individual symbols within the dream and offering the traditional meanings behind them, I analyze the dream as a whole allowing intuition to be my guide to the messages that need to be delivered. No detail is too small or insignificant. If it was important enough for you to remember and bring back with you into your waking life, it's important enough to include when you share the dream. Things like colors, quantities, and sizes are often the keys that unlock the entire dream.

I think it's probably easier and more interesting to give you an example. The dream interpretation below is shared with permission. Notice the disturbing images in the dream, and how differently the messages come through. Bad dreams are sometimes just a way to get, and hold, your attention.

The Dream

(Related word for word as I received it from the dreamer)

"Just woke from a weird dream. In my dream i awoke in the guest room.... A teddy bear had been shredded to pieces... By the dog (i guess) but no dog was present. My son was there though. I picked up my son and left the room which has a railing overlooking the downstairs living room. I looked over the rail and saw my son downstairs playing with his toys.... I looked in the face of the baby i was holding and though it looked like my son... It was scowling at me....and started gripping me tighter.... I started to panic and asked," Who are you?!? Who are you?!??? Who are you!!!????" And started slamming it against the wall to make it release its grip on me and the wall paint chipped and fell as i slammed it over and over and over.... Then i woke. Whats it mean?"

The Symbols  

(Traditional meanings vary and often contradict themselves for each symbol. I use my intuition in conjunction with my thinking mind to find the common thread. Then I just follow it.)

 

Guest room - temporary situation, a particular aspect of yourself.

Teddy bear - lost security, comfort (the fact that it was destroyed just highlights that further)

Son - your ideals, hopes, potential

Holding - trying to control

Railing - in need of support

Balcony - feeling undecided, trying to get the big picture

Living room - your beliefs about yourself, who you think you are

Baby/toddler - new beginnings, acknowledging hidden potential

Scowling - how you feel about the baby

Gripping - control

Paint - inner emotions, feelings you need to express

Slammed - anger, tendency to keep negative emotions inside

The Interpretation  

(Now I re-write the dream substituting the interpretation of the symbols for the symbols themselves. This is when I let go and intuition takes over completely. I often have to read what has been written before sending it to the dreamer because I don't even know what I typed.)

 You are totally stressed about retirement and all of the changes associated with that. In your mind, you are not just losing your security, it is literally being shredded. Seeing your son in your dream signifies your hopes and your potential for the future, which at first seem very normal, exactly as you expect things to be. You look over your current life and it feels very comforting, although you might be in need of some support as you start to look to the future. But then you look closer, and you realize that all of those hopes and dreams and that potential that you are holding on to, are actually quite terrifying and unfamiliar. And even worse, you are not in control of the future, it is in control of you. It literally has a death grip on you. So you start to try to fight against those new beginnings. But they won't let go, no matter how hard you slam them into the wall. By the way, that wall? Those are your emotions that are beginning to chip away because you are keeping them inside. You are trying to remain in control of the situation and remain calm. Something I'm sure you are very good at doing. But a little voice inside is telling you that, in this case, you need to let people in on how you're feeling. Talk to a friend. Talk to many friends. But you need to let that fear and uncertainty out. It won't necessarily make it better immediately, but it will lighten your load, so you don't crack under all the pressure.

The Conclusion

This person was getting ready to retire from a job he had done for more than 20 years. He knew he was stressed about it, but didn't realize to what extent because he had been ignoring it and shoving it away. After listening to the messages from this dream, he successfully found an outlet for his stress, and continued into the next phase of his life with a greater awareness of his emotions.

So, there you go. Did you learn something from this? Do you like the idea of having me share more dreams and their interpretations from time to time (always anonymously and with permission, of course)? Let me know in the comments below or on Facebook, if that's how you found this blog.

If you're interested in a dream interpretation for yourself, please send me an email at FeelTheEnergy1111@gmail.com.

Dream on!

The Chance I Almost Didn't Take

Several years ago, I had just moved to Estes Park, Colorado -- home of the legendary, and reportedly haunted, Stanley Hotel. Because of my love for the history of the hotel and my interest in the paranormal in general, I decided it would be a good idea to apply for a seasonal Ghosts & History tour guide position.

There was just one REALLY BIG problem.

I was terrified of public speaking.

How exactly does someone who "can't" speak in front of people take a job that requires standing up in front of 20-25 people, several times a day, and speaking in front of them? But in spite of my second thoughts, I showed up for my first day of work to begin the training process. This included learning the detailed history of the hotel and following an experienced tour guide on her tours for a week or two. Then I would begin to take over slowly, giving short segments of the 90-minute tour, until I had learned it completely and was comfortable enough to go off on my own.

The day soon arrived when I was to give my first portion of the tour. By then, I knew the history inside and out. I knew the ghost stories that had occurred at each of the stops throughout the hotel. I had this down, I could do this! I gathered the group of guests together, confidently leading them to the first stop on the tour at the bottom of the basement stairs. I stepped up a couple of stairs, so everyone could see and hear me, turned to face the expectant crowd and froze.

I couldn't remember anything I was supposed to say. I had forgotten all the important dates and interesting facts. I don't think I even remembered the last name of the original owners. (For the record, it was Stanley. You know, just like the name of the hotel.) I stumbled and fumbled as best I could. It was awful. I'm not just saying that. It really was. Luckily, the experienced tour guide was ready to take over for the rest of the tour, while I held back my tears and quietly exited stage left for the safety, security, and solitude of the women's restroom.

Once in the bathroom stall, I let the tears flow. All of the frustration and the embarrassment poured down my cheeks. Mostly I was mad at myself for even thinking I could be a tour guide. I wanted to do the job. I just couldn't. At that moment, I realized I had two choices. I could figure it out, or I could quit. There was no shame in quitting if I truly wasn't cut out to be a tour guide, but if there was even the slimmest chance that I was, I would always regret the chance I didn't take.

With a renewed sense of determination and a passion for the job I wanted to do, I left the safety and security of my hiding place and I figured it out. I did the job so well, in fact, that before long I was representing the hotel on the radio, on television, and at conferences across the country, standing up in front of hundreds of people sharing my passion. I took the chance and I succeeded. I learned that "can't" is just an excuse to allow fear to take control.

So, why did I choose to tell you this story? Well, it's because I am once again hiding in that bathroom stall, trying to decide if I should figure it out or quit. There's no shame in quitting if I'm truly not cut out for this new path I've chosen. But if there is even the slimmest chance that I am, I will always regret the chance I didn't take. I think I know how this ends.

Passion and the Perfect Pear-Filled Pasta

Writing, for me, is the key to everything. For the past year and a half, this key has been missing. Every now and then, over the past few months, I have picked the lock and entered the secret room in my soul where creativity resides, but I have felt more like an intruder than a welcome guest. There is so much I want to say and so much I want to do to make a difference in this world. My refusal to even try to find the missing key has blocked me. But there are stories to be told and experiences to be shared, so once again I have picked the lock and let myself in. I'm still feeling like an intruder, but I'm hoping that if I share some stories, with no other motive than to create a connection, perhaps I'll find that the key has been waiting for me, all along, inside the locked door.

If you follow me on Facebook, some of the stories I'll share over the next few weeks may already be familiar to you, especially this one, but maybe in the re-telling I will add something new. Today for some reason, I am being asked -- no, urged -- to re-tell this story. I know it's the one I am supposed to share because there are a lot of tears coming with it. I'm going to just go with the flow and not try to figure out why it's this one and not another, but I have an inkling that it might have something to do with passion, a feeling that has been severely lacking in my life for quite awhile, with one notable exception. So here we go. Let's see where this leads.

It was my first night alone in Florence, a beautiful September evening. The front desk clerk at my hotel had recommended a restaurant and had made a reservation for me at 9:00 p.m., a very Italian time to dine. When I arrived, I noticed there were several tables on the patio, so when I checked in for my reservation, I asked if I could sit outside.

"Signora, we do not have a table available outside at this time, but if you will wait a few minutes, we will seat you on the patio."

I didn't mind waiting for the perfect table, so I agreed and stepped off to the side, out of the way.

"Signora, please come, you must sit at this table inside. We will serve you wine and appetizers until your table outside is ready."

I sat down at the table, feeling a little guilty because it was a fine table, with a view through the open patio doors to the piazza beyond. When the very handsome, very young, waiter came to take my wine order, I told him that I was happy to eat dinner where I was. It was almost what I wanted, and it was good enough. I didn't need to be moved outside.

"No, signora, you will sit outside as soon as your table is ready."

I tend to try to make things easier on others, even if it means compromising my own desires, so I'm not sure if I had ever before experienced having someone insist that I have exactly what I wanted. He wouldn't allow me to settle for just good enough. It felt nice. A few minutes after my first glass of wine had been poured, the handsome waiter came by, scooped up my wine bottle and escorted me to the best table on the patio.

I ordered pasta filled with finely chopped pears and gorgonzola cheese, topped with a parmesan sauce and pine nuts. As I sat there with the slight breeze blowing through my hair, the sights and smells of Florence all around me, and the taste of the most unbelievable pasta in my mouth, I felt a couple of teardrops slip down my face. For once, I didn't feel the need to wipe them away. They simply added to the sheer perfection of that moment. The waiter arrived at my table, and I turned to him with tears in my eyes.

"Signora, why do you cry?"

"Because I have never experienced anything more perfect in my life!"

I left the restaurant that night with the phone number of that incredibly handsome, incredibly young, waiter in my hand, a huge smile on my face, and the beginning of a love affair with the city of Florence in my heart. I returned in May to continue that love affair for another nine days. Florence is passion. For the first time in my life, I consciously know what that feels like and I want more. I no longer want to compromise my true desires to almost get what I want, or to settle for something that is only good enough.

Whenever I think back on that moment at a table in Florence on a beautiful September evening, it immediately opens the door to that secret room in my soul where perfection resides. Come to think of it, that's probably the same secret room where creativity resides as well, isn't it? Well, damn. There's that key.