I Resist the Muses

I dream normal people dreams. You know, flying in the sky, running in places unknown, and the occassional I-forgot-my-pants-at-home embarassing ones.

But sometimes there are dreams that I can only remember in sharp flashes. Of impressive power.. the kind of power that makes trees grow and mountains move. I don't know why, but thats the closest I've ever come to explaining it. Sometimes there are people, a man who feels like a trickster, and another who feels like the sky and lightning, one I cared for very much.. much like a son. There are others I know, but they're just passing thoughts, glances. Wine, flyng, fire, death...

Sometimes I don't remember the dreams much at all. I wake up in a sweat and scared for my life, like something was chasing me the whole night. Those dreams are the most unpleasant at all; its hard to move for a few days after those.

The one thing that remains constant in these dreams is that I always feel at home.. and when I wake up, I don't know where I am.

(I've lost five children to miscarriages...)

I love cooking. I love being able to use my own ingredients that I've grown and using them to create new and interesting things. Cooking is like art. Except with more calories, vitamins, and minus the toxic chemicals (I'm talking to you, grocery store buyers).

Olympia City sometimes has a Farmer's Market, but its easier if you live on the edge of town and are within driving distance to the nearest smaller town to find more. But I think its the best when you cook for yourself, using your own hard-earned crop.

Blueberries are delicious in season, I might add.

Not seriously, no. I mean, there are a lot of things one would consider superstitious while another wouldn't. Talking to plants is one. Another would be walking across the path of a black cat (which I do frequently, when she purposely gets in my way because she wants attention and I'm busy).

Superstitions were based primarily upon the cultures of old in a particular region on earth. They were given power because people believed in them. Without power given to them, they themselves could not give any back. I wonder sometimes if that was how the gods of old worked as well.

Love is like water; it changes its shape to match its container.

It is harsh and cruel and bittersweet. It will tear you apart in your quest to love someone, even if they hurt and despise you.

It is also kind and caring; it will always be there and depend upon you like you depend upon them.

It will never leave and it will haunt your soul forever.

Honestly, I'm not sure.

I'd like that new pair of Prada shoes I saw in the store, or the Victorian Romantic tarot deck I saw at Simply Magick. I'd like when I think back on my childhood, it doesn't hurt like you're running your hands along broken glass.

The one thing I want the most, is the one thing thats (unintentionally) hurt me the most, and its something I don't think I'll ever have.

Once upon a time, I would have laughed at you for asking me that. I would've given you a smart ass answer about how a name and a date are pointless in an ever changing cycle of life and death and rebirth upon this planet.

But I'm in my mid-thirties, I've lost five children, and I am alone in this world now. Those names and dates arn't so meaningless anymore, as I've come to realize.

I am Rhea, and I was born on the island of Crete thirty-something years ago. I lived in a small town with my mother and my two older brothers, because my father left when I was three. But when he came back, I left out of fear and of love for my boyfriend. Gosh, you don't know how foolish I feel for writing that.

I spent my days working on art, and if I bothered too, going to class at a local college. At night, I would stay out until the wee hours of the morning dancing the life out of me like there was no tomorrow. Sometimes, I would get home and find my boyfriend-turned-husband asleep in our bed, and sometimes I would not. But he always came home, and where he had slept was warm and smelled faintly of whiskey. That was enough for my young and shallow mind, I suppose.

That was a long time ago. Now I look in the mirror and see my laugh lines just a little deeper, my eyes a little wiser, and forever dreading my first grey hair (and may the Gods keep them away for as long as possible).

I've been living in Olympia City for the past year now, selling organic foods along with works of art, from my home. I do enjoy my slow and leisurely lifestyle, even if it came from the settlement money my now ex-husband left me. But thats another story.

One thing that has remained the same though, are the dreams.

(If I had a child...)