Heelers - September 29, 2006
I just went to a Tucker-sponsored, week long psychic training course in upstate NY at a place called Lilly Dale, the world's oldest and largest community of psychics. The happenings of this trip are so good they made last chapter in my book. I saw visible fairies, numerous auras and Dennis Rodman all in one trip, and while I did not see much of an appreciable difference in my ability to psychically divine any answers from "the great mother father earth God," stingy fuck, a certain part of my "spirit center" has become more acute. If you've never spent a week in Lilly Dale holding hands and pretending you are a crystal, then you won't understand what a "spirit center" is, or what comprises it. Let me explain.
Two nights ago, Murph pup was playing in the waves, maybe twenty feet off the shoreline. She was jumping into the water, crashing and splashing with her ears flapping and tongue flailing, making that mongoloid face she makes when she's having lots of fun. She did this for a great amount of time, because my youngest one is simple. She enjoys the little things in life, has great and vivid imagination for a dog, and can entertain herself without needing endless treats, scratching, glitter and pawsicures like Maxie.
I was sitting on the beach watching her with my feet in the sand. I'd watch her, and then the sunset and then her again, but after a turn at the sunset, I snapped back to Murph and noticed an odd shape behind her splashing. It was...it was a fin. A shark's fin.
Murph was oblivious, of course, off in her little doggy dream world. I stood up so that I could run and fetch her from the ocean, but I couldn't move. The sand had melted into cement, and it locked my feet into the beach. I screamed to Murph, but she didn't seem to hear me, and the shark crept closer.
I woke up, of course. I immediately called Tucker, who was dog sitting for me, and asked if Murph was okay.
"She's fine. She did eat so much steak bone last night that she crapped all over the living room floor this morning. And when I tried to scold her, she peed herself. Typical Murph pup. Why, what's wrong? You sound panicked."
"I'm fine. I just had a nightmare."
Dreaming is part of the "spirit center," or as James Van Praagh, alpha dog of Spiritualism, says, "Every night, you die. Your spirit leaves your body and becomes a part of the 'great mother father earth God.'" I don't know if I believe I go hang out with the mother father earth God when I go to sleep, but something's going on, for sure. We have prophetic dreams. Dreams come true or at least make sense 40 percent of the time if we're paying attention. Perhaps we're "dying," I don't know.
Later that night, I went for the second of my scheduled runs for the day. My shins healed earlier this year, so I'm aiming for another marathon. No rest for the wicked. This run took place on a highway, which was not an optimal running area, but the only option I had. The visibility was bad, so I couldn't quite make out the shapes around me. I was startled when I saw two floating green dots about twenty feet in front of me. When they blinked, I recognized them as the eyes of a little animal, and the next sequence of events happened too quickly for me to remember with any kind of forensic accuracy. In hindsight, it was a pup, I frightened him, and he ran into the road where he was hit by two cars. I brought him to the shoulder, held him and tried to keep him warm, and though he seemed to be breathing when animal control showed up to cart him off, I heard he died later that night. He looked like a younger version of Murph without the white spots or the joy.
I had the dream my Heeler died, and then my actions led to the death of a Heeler. Probably not a coincidence. And what's the meaning? I don't know. Maybe I was being prepared by that sick-as-fuck mother father earth God for how implausibly horrible I would feel today. I hate my spirit center.
Posted by The Bunny at 1:52 PM
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Poor boy puppy.:(
But Murph pup is fine. Which is good.
I guess it's good I don't remember my dreams, sometimes, then.
Posted by: Kelsness ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.thebunnyblog.com/nav-commenters.gif)
at September 29, 2006 03:53 PM
Bunny!
That's so sad :(
Posted by: Stumbles at September 29, 2006 11:10 PM
Lilly Dale is so beautiful...yet so odd..my cousin got married in the middle of the woods there a few years back.
Posted by: Paige at September 30, 2006 08:51 PM
"Dreams come true or at least make sense 40 percent of the time if we're paying attention."
Meh, Dreams and prophecies almost always "come true" if you want them to, and look hard enough. The shark thing, for instance.
Murphy could choke on a fish bone, could get in trouble at the beach somehow, could be threatened by a predator, could be threatened by pretty much ANY danger. Or maybe nothing to do with the doggie at all- you just feeling impotent when something, anything bad happens (which is a feeling everyone gets at some point).
I don't discount the possibility that prophetic dreams could exist, I just think they're more like a Rorsarch blot than anything else- you see what you want to see.
Posted by: thingsinmysleeve at October 5, 2006 06:14 PM
