Nom de Plume Kayla

The Path (tentative title)

She muffled a silent scream that racked her body, mind and soul with agony. Hoping that she was on fire or some other horrid form of slow and excruciating torture she sat abruptly in bed. As she glanced over her body and sheets, the lack of hungry flames seemed to be more like hell than heaven. Now that she was fully awake she had to deal with the mental anguish, the nightmare that was nothing compared to what she endured each and every waking moment. Yet, no one in her daily life seemed to notice. She wondered if she was merely that talented of an actress or if they just didn’t give a damn. She was hoping it was the former. If the latter were true then there really was no reason for her to go on acting. At times she wished she could simply ask. But then that would negate her reason for acting, too.

Well, either way, she had to get up and go about the charade for another day. Damn, why couldn’t she just not wake up today? Not really a suicidal thought, just a weary one. Most days she dealt with the searing ache in her chest like it was a fire that pushed her forward, to better make sure no one else ever had to feel that pain. Today already seemed to be one of the worse ones. No, she remember ones much worse, where the wretchedness felt as if there were a black hole in her chest, one that everyone must be able to see but be too polite to mention. These black hole days, forever sucking every emotion into itself until she felt like she was the walking dead, the decrepit living, somewhere in between where every feeling that ever was had been drawn into her own chest and she had to feel them all at once, all while smiling when she really felt like howling.

However, this morning seemed different. She couldn’t put her finger on it; she just sensed a conclusion on the horizon, not a good one, but not really a bad ending either. How to explain it, hmmm, well you could say it was like when a loved one dies, an elderly family member. Not exactly like a grandmother or such, just when you reach that age where you realize that everyone must die, they must complete the circle. When you realize that you too will one day die, and you are at a time in your life when close friends near you are readying themselves for that inevitable finale. This is how she felt about her own impending wrapping up. That it was long overdue, that she had been doling on long enough and that there were better things waiting for her. Some would be sad to see her go, she wasn’t so sadistic to think that they would cheer when she finally left their realm, but they would all know that she had experienced a complete time frame and that she would authentically be happier somewhere else.

Where that place would be, she no longer knew. She knew that there had to be something else, the good gods wouldn’t let this be it, right? No, she had been a faithful servant, obedient and only willful when she felt that harm would come to a particular essence. A model archetype. If she didn’t deserve something more, who did? This was not her thought though, just the general consensus of those around her. Unfortunately few knew the torture in her very soul. Some could sense it, those of the utmost perception, she actually was a very talented deceiver, but what no one, not even the designers she felt, knew was how she inflicted this very agony within herself. How she sought it out and welcomed it back home like the prodigal son. Before this pain had erupted in her, she had been nothing. She had forgotten how to feel anything at all, pain, sorrow, joy, happiness, hate, anger, weakness, strength… they all eluded her. But now that she had found the well, she no longer walked among the emotionless who drained life. She did realize some days were better than others. Some days she didn’t have to fake the laugh as much as others, some days she was generally excited about some trivial issue. A good book, a great song on the radio. Generally she put on a farce that none questioned. The ones who did dig deeper into the insanity that she was soon stopped, less they get the infection themselves. Most said she built a wall around herself to protect intruders from further causing her pain, but ironically, she hunted that very type of being out.

Although all saw what they preferred to see, an emotionally scarred woman, although a pleasant one, they didn’t interfere too much in her life. She was someone who would go above and beyond to help someone in need, but also not one to be trifled with lightly. By and large this was ok with her. Many came to her with their problems, and she fed on them like a calf on his mother. Sucking every raw and blistering emotion she could from them before she helped them come to the common and usually very identifiable answer. Very rarely did she not care to help others with their trifle problems. Still, there were days that the black hole tore her open and she could only sit and rock. Meditation helped at first, but then as she grew accustomed to the ritual the old thoughts crept back. As those days turned to night, she didn’t sleep either, she couldn’t always remember what she dreamt of, she did know that she woke shrieking soundlessly. Her whole cadaver would shake violently with terror at some unseen horror, dreams that wouldn’t dispel with the light. When those dreams stole upon her she knew that the gravitational pull would be strong that day. At times she could use it to her advantage and really help someone, even if they didn’t know they were being helped, but normally she just shied away from the common world and hid in her dark corner.

Cowardly maybe, yet no one here would ever be ready for the things she kept from them. Should they ever discover how deep the disturbances went, they would have locked her up for sure. And then what good could she do then? One had asked once if she was suicidal. Yes, in the beginning she had been, but now that she understood her bequest she knew that even should she try it would not work, it would be given to someone else, and she would never let this be taken from her. So she endured and hoped that when she left this place she would take her gift with her. In her own mind she was saving the entirety by remaining as whole as she could withstand. Her own personal Pandora’s Box, and while this world may not have been the Garden of Eden, at least she would keep this secret better than the original miss-guided woman had. So, let them think she was slightly off, she in fact was. So she made sure to act as though she was just guarded and not crazy. How she managed it may very well never be known. Such is why she relished when someone came to her with their inconsequential problems. Love lives, petty disputes, those who tossed away the very things they should have cherished with all their entity’s, she absorbed their pain, love, anger, hurt, and took it into herself. Almost like an emotional "sin eater" as she thought of herself. She was their freedom from their own greedy transgressions.

After waking this morning to the horrid dream that she never seemed to remember but instinctively knew was never the same from night to night, she mulled over all the thoughts and emotions she had acquired as of late. And she again sensed the change, moving closer to it this time. Would she be ready? Would she leave behind the darkness for some other deviant to take upon their spiritual shoulders? She hoped not, although she had not wanted it when it had come to her before either, and now look at her. She was not only succeeding at the "job," if it could be called that, she was actually excelling. By her own terms of course. What qualifications made her either surpass or fail she truly did not know, seeing as they had not been disclosed to her, she liked to think she was doing marvelously well. Maybe the next person to receive this special ability, if there was one, would feel the same as her and look upon it as a blessing not so much in disguise, more like in drag. Pretending to break the person down, while actually giving them a reason for living, albeit not the life dreams are made of, still a life worth living at least. As she walked out of the house and pondered whether she would have the strength to leave her shield behind if asked to do so she looked into the sunshine. It really was magnificent at this time of the morning; you could see the brilliant daybreak sun and the lingering moon both. Very seldom did she ever think about the beauty around her that when she did see it and stare in wonder, looks were thrown her way. Why couldn’t those around her take in the environments’ beauty and be truly awed for just one tiny moment. Maybe they were, maybe they all saw what she saw, but it was simply the darkness that evaded her more each day that did not allow her to see others joining in with her dumbstruck awareness.

Whatever the answer, she bravely stepped out into the sun and began a slow, drawled out walk down the road to her office. She could drive, but it was better for her to walk the sixteen blocks. She would shower and change in her custom office bathroom. The time alone gave her a chance to inventory herself for the day charging towards her. As long as she could keep herself in check she could continue to do her work. Some said she loved it, that she was a natural, though honestly she loved very little anymore, love was one emotion that she knew without a doubt caused the horrid lucid nightmares. She would only take on that emotion when she could feel herself slipping, when she felt as if she was losing the "gift" bestowed upon her. That had become who she was. Today, she knew that she was going to have to deal with that pesky emotion, L-O-V-E. She didn’t like it one bit, but as she went over her sentimental register, she came to the sudden realization that this affectionate sensation could be part of the transformation she knew was coming closer every moment. Never before had she actually known beyond a shadow of doubt what passions she would be discussing that day. From the water cooler to lunch with "friends" to simply passing by someone on the street, their feelings were so varied, and they seemed to be in constant motion. No two ever seemed to feel the exact same at the same time, though they often thought they did. One always loved the other more, or hated the other more, or felt empathy while the other felt sympathy. It seemed never ending. That was what she was here for, what she was made, so to say, to do. Well, maybe adjusted or even revolutionized would be a better than "made." She didn’t even know herself.

Finally, she reached the building her middle class but still luxuriant office was located. Using her key swipe card, she let herself in and proceeded for the elevator. Humming along with Mendelssohn’s Spring Song she pressed the button to floor seven. Her hand jerked to a stop midway back to her side. Since when did she hum? Yes, she had chosen the elevator music, easy to do when dentists and plastic surgeons also occupied the building. They wanted culture, they just didn’t know enough about true civility to pick the right muzak, that’s where she guided them to her favorites, much the way she guided others to their developmental answers. This was different though, she had used this composition many times in her own awakings of spirit, she had never truly enjoyed it the way she was at this very moment. Something very singular was happening, she could no longer feel it, she could no longer sense it, she just knew it. But what? And as suddenly as the knowledge came to her, the elevator doors glided open and she walked briskly to her office door, without understanding how she was moving. After taking the few phone messages from her receptionist she moved to her private office and bathroom, getting ready for the day. Only after she was comfortable in her chair reviewing her files did her body seem to respond to the scream inside her head to stop and assess what had happened in the elevator. As soon as she began to levy the circumstances she felt the lightness again, the sensation that spoke of happiness. She knew what it was of course; it wasn’t only her job but also her providence to know each and every emotion. To understand them and be able to correctly diagnose them. Still, she had not felt, truly felt giddiness in so long that she thought she must be delusional.

Yes, that must be it, she was over worked and worried about the change that was coming, she would not stress over this trivial bout of buoyancy, it would pass and no need to stir up other seldom released passions like hope and conviction. Instead she went back to her case files and waited for her first encounter of the day. The young man had tortured three people allegedly, and all though he admitted it to everyone, she did not believe his story. There was something amiss, something that the senses only she possessed picked up on. Five years should have been enough to understand the way the once-juvenile thought and she was sure, with her newfound heightened knowledge, that he would explain why he would tell the world he had committed an atrocity when all knowledge said he didn’t. They had already caught the criminal. DNA evidence proved the other man’s guilt along with the details only he and the police knew. The bpy showed no signs of any delusion, he knew that his story was not believed, could not be believed, and he knew this was the reason why he was in a mental institution, and yet he seemed to only get more specific with each session. Almost as if he was sent to test her emotional reflexes. What kind of karmatic law would allow this man to suffer just to test her? At times she wondered if she was really helping anyone, then she remember the old axiom, shrinks have to be as crazy as their patients to ever think about helping them.

She smiled when she thought about how close to home that hit regarding her. She moved on slowly, still slightly grinning. Her next patron was another young man. This one seemed to be the exact opposite of her ten o’clock though. He was vibrant, open, and genuinely happy. And that was where her abomination once again settled in for a chat. He seemed to be hiding something dark that he felt would not be understood. How well she understood, even knowing a similar tale of what he was going through, she could not break him out of the mask he put on for everyone including her. Both of these men came to see her every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And she was on call at all times for both. If she was going to be any help to anyone, she would have to help these two before moving on. All her other appointments were the typical midlife crisis, marriage counseling, although that was generally just for friends and a very few select references. Other than the two men she was trying to breach, her real work consisted in calls from the radio station where she did her Psychologist for Rent radio show at WPMG, and the odd person who recognized her from her best-selling book, The Real Delusions We All Have and How to Embrace Them. She had given a part of herself to the book, a secret part she had never wanted anyone to read, but read it they did. She really couldn’t help it. When the book was discovered by her once friend, (who also happened to be a self-help book agent), he demanded that he be allowed to represent her. She had been shocked, no wonder he hadn’t been helping her move the boxes out of her rundown apartment, he had been hiding and reading her agenda/journal. When he had finally talked her into it, she was amazed to find out that Little, Brown had taken it on the spot. She knew she was just a fad and would die out in due time, at least it had been a stepping stone to using her endowment as was apparently seen fit by some higher power or another.

Snapping back to the present, she realized Mr. ten o’clock was late. She called her receptionist over the intercom to send him in, but apparently her calendar had been cleared for the next three days. After thoroughly determining from the woman that she had in fact called just yesterday to clear it, and listening to the message left on the machine in her own voice, did she let the woman go home and began "organizing" her office like she had evidently left communications for. After approximately ten minutes doing nothing particular she once again experienced the bliss she had encountered in the elevator earlier that morning. With a rush she anticipated the following torment she knew would pursue the bright thoughts, as in fact had tagged along with every good feeling she had had since the change with the exception of this morning. It never came. Wonder soon filler her. What in the hell was going on? Had she misused her power, was it being taken from her? She knew that she should be grateful, but she didn’t think she could go back to the living dead. She was useless. If they were going to take it away after all this time and all the things she had tried to do and leave her here, she would take matters into her own hands. This time, she would be truly be among the "anti-living," as so many had called her before the modification. What good was a body with no willpower? She would just be taking up valuable space and energy. Best to do the deed herself if the oh so holy divinities couldn’t do it themselves.

Suddenly she was an unimaginable distance away. She could look down and see her body in her office chair, but her eyes were blank, soulless and hollow, it was a terrifying look, not all unlike what she had seen haunting her in the mirror before she… well, before she was. She turned, if you can call moving without a body turning, essentially just the essence of who you are. As she did this she was looking into the most beautiful eyes that she had ever seen before. They were a color no human’s had any right being. Not green, but the color of spring leaves, of fresh moss growing on the trees of the rainforest, with flecks of blue that put shame to the sky and all the oceans. They had wisdom and kindness in them; they also had the knowledge of everything since the beginning of time and before. Strange and awe-inspiring, while also humbling. She knew instantly that this was no god or goddess that any religion on Earth could justifiably explain. This being seemed human, but not at the same time. Everything that she thought was suddenly on the open plain they were abruptly standing on. Unexpectedly the being spoke with no voice, still she understood all the same.

She was to be a guide for lost souls; she had experienced what this creature had undergone for all epochs. She knew what to look for and how to help. Her only mission in life was to help the faltering spirits in their quests for eternal life. She would be guided by no religion, law, faith, creed, or conviction other than the emotions she could now truly understand and flex upon. Should she choose not to take the path offered unto her she would be released back into her life either with or without the last ten years of her life having already happened, it was all her decision. The road she would take in any direction she chose would be a difficult one. All of the world had lost its humanity. They were doomed to continue their current channels until they found it again. There would be no fiery pit, this was their hell. A nightmare of their own making. Just as she had discovered, so would they all discover, what they did next was each person’s choice. They were simply being given the ultimate clue. Pick one another up, let emotion in, don’t DO good – BE good. It wasn’t the actions of what you did so much as the meaning you put into and behind them. If you failed helping someone but you truly had your soul into guiding, helping that person, you were not bad, that soul simply chose its route. Learn how to regain your humanity, compassion, mercy, kindness, your very soul and the ultimate reward would be yours. She would take it, the question was, would everyone else? That was not for her to know. Surely the path would be strewn with rocks, fire, ice, and every imaginable horror the body can withstand, but her soul, her essence would not be broken. That was the way of mankind. The body is just a tool, the operator is the very core of who we are and that cannot be broken unless we allow it.

She silently accepted the offer. And at once she was back in her office. She instinctively knew that she was not alone, the being was guiding her, she could FEEL, not just know, actually feel. She also knew that there were others like her and the world would struggle against them, although that was not the being’s fault. We had been created to have the best of everything, and we had chosen to destroy it when even our own kind warned us of the dangers. There would be mobs that would conspire to stop her, to tell the world about her "Satanic" ways, as everything not understood is, she would be persecuted at every step, but she would not lose heart. That was the human way. That was how we treated unknown knowledge, with fear and trepidation. Soon, the world would know another way, the way, not the only trail, but a choice. Those who chose to accept that path would be shown the glory of our creator and what one can truly achieve with their soul to guide them. Others would choose different ways, as they were allowed. They would either learn from their mistakes or they would be doomed to repeat them forever. As she realized the extent of her journey she wondered how long people like her had been roaming the planet, she suspected that this was not a recent decision. She smiled, picked herself up out of the chair and began humming Spring Song as she walked out of the office that would belong to some other soul tomorrow.

Image for a moment I was telling you about a dream I had last night. I was flying above the clouds, farther and farther away from my home. This causes me to wonder... What does this dream mean? Does it have any purpose? I decided to find the answers by studying oneirology and using the three main dream theories. The most unusual of these theories is Dream ESP.

Dream ESP is just how it sounds. Using the dream from the introduction, depending on how I was flying, Dream ESP says that one of the following could be in my future. If I dreamed I was flying so high that I could actually touch the moon and stars this portends many different types of global disaster that I may soon hear of. If I flew high with black wings I was warned that I am headed for a letdown of magnitude. Dream ESP says that only the few that are truly open to their spiritual side can remember their dreams, thus deciphering them and knowing what will be.

In example, the book, The Dimensions of Dreams cites a story where a little girl told her mother, "I dreamed I went to school and there was no school there. Something black had come down all over it. I'm not afraid to die because I shall be there with Peter and June." The next day her school was destroyed by a stream of coal slag, the little girl and her friends inside were never found. Is this an example of dream ESP?

Marci Pliskin made a great point in her book Interpreting Your Dreams, "...Prophetic dreams can be attributed to 'fine cuing,' or by the process where the unconscious picks up nonverbal warnings, subtle vibes, or small impressions." Maybe this was how the little girl knew of the tragedy headed her way. What if she had unconsciously picked up on the clues and then dreamed of them while in a more relaxed state of mind?

That such viewpoint is considered sub-conscience hints. Sub-conscience hints are when a person notices something in their waking life, but shove it to the back of their minds. Once again utilizing my dream from the introduction, this theory states that my dream could be trying to tell me about a few things. Maybe I was throughout the day and I needed to feel free, so I dreamed of soaring away from my problems. Or possibly in my waking life I noticed a story about a sky-diver a few moments before I went to bed, so I dreamed of sky-diving myself. While I was sleeping, my mind was free to wander. Trying to keep the brain occupied, my mind caused me to dream. This theory states that my dream was composed of what was going on during my day.

In the book, Interpreting Your Dreams, Dr. Just talks about how Mary Shelley came up with the idea for her story, Frankenstein. "...Before going to bed [Mary Shelley] was encouraged to write down a horror story. That night she had a nightmare that became the basis for her book." By telling horror stories directly before she went to bed, Mary Shelley dictated what she would be dreaming about.

Jayne Gackenbach states in her book, The Emerging Mind, "Dreams speak to us in a language of metaphor. While awake, we may use words that evoke images but we don't directly live the images. In dreams, we live the visual image of the metaphor. So what if none of your dreams seem to be telling you anything of the future, or they won't ever make you a famous detective someday for discovering that hidden clue? Well, then you might believe the third theory.

Nearly all of our dreams make no sense, thus making most of us believe that dreams really have no scientific purpose. This is called the mind chatter theory, which implies that dreaming has no purpose in life other than to occupy the brain while a person is resting. Yet again inserting my dream of flying, this theory states that my mind had to stay occupied while resting, so it played a movie to entertain itself. It may have taken things from my waking life so that I would understand it, but not enough to wake up. But, there was no real meaning for the dream.

Dreaming is much like that brain in the fact that scientists know enough about it to be even more intrigued. The Waking to Our Dreams website states that everyone dreams, even the blind. The average human has 100,000 dreams in their lives. That's roughly 1,300 a year or 3 a night. The Purple Shaman DreamSite says that people have been studying dreams since the Egyptians. So, if everyone dreams and there have been studies for thousands of years, assuming humans have been dreaming for just as long, why can't anyone really tell us why?

The answer may be that dreaming is too much like the brain. Scientists haven't yet found a way to explore either with our current technology. Maybe, in the future, we will find out which theory is correct. Do dreams foretell us of our own futures? Are our minds telling us about the things we took for granted during the day? Or are our psyches just creatively keeping us busy during the night so that they can regenerate? But, if this speech has put any of you to sleep, then you might be able to tell me which theory is right...

Bibliography

Fore, Anthony. An In-depth Look to Why We Dream.

An In-depth Look to Why We Dream. 19 Sept. 2005.

08 Sept. 2005

Gackenbach, Jayne. "Sleep and Consciousness." The Emerging Mind. Ed. Karen Nesbitt Shanor. Los

Angeles: Renaissance Books, 1999. 73-103.

One Step Beyond (Waking to Our Dreams). Ed. Gavin Brown. 25 Aug. 2005. 08 Sept. 2005

.

Pliskin, Marci. "Are You Dreaming?" The Complete Idiots Guide to Interpreting Your Dreams. Ed. Jessica

Faust. New York: Aramath, 1999. 5-57.

Shakespeare, William. "Act Three, Scene One." 1596-1616.

Hamlet. Ed. Alan Durband. Hauppauge: Barron's Educational Series, Inc., 1986. 142-145.

Tennant, Rich. "The 5th Wave." Comic Strip. Dreams for Dummies. Foster City: IDG Books Worldwide,

Inc., 2001. 217.

Vedfelt, Ole. "Dreams and Parapsychology." Trans. Kenneth Tindall. The Dimensions of Dreams.

Denmark: Gyldendal, 1999. 222-241.

Wong, Janet S. "Falling." Night Garden Poems from the World of Dreams. Ed. Margaret K. McElderry.

New York: Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing, 2000. 17.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Thanks to @g39owens for this widget!!

Work, work, work, then next April... PLAYTIME!

Monday, May 24, 2010

It's been a while... Lol

The Path

Thursday, January 31, 2008

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Nom de Plume Kayla

Keep the Blog alive!

Blog Archive

BlogCatalog

My Life Quotes