Fantasy and Nightmare

I’m in my room now. I must have gotten up around 3:30am. I lied in bed for about an hour thinking about you and talking to you. I told you about a nightmare I had. I had your full attention. This is my fantasy. I began with the most detailed aspects of the dream first, I jotted something down and you read it and gave a critique while I regaled you. You nodded and I continued to tell you about my dream: it was terrifying. I was alone and encumbered (as per usual) with a dozen things. I saw you walking around my new apartment building so I stopped to say, “Hello”  but you were too engaged and focused on something/someone else. I grew despondent and a bit jealous and bitter so I left and went to my apartment. When I was there, I realized that I had forgotten something and I needed to leave immediately to retrieve it before my next engagement. I left my apartment, with all my things strapped to my body, and headed for the store. On my way out, someone stopped me and asked me for help, so I stopped momentarily before I realized there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation so I decided to keep moving.

At the store, I looked around for a cart and tried to remove some of my belongings. There, at the entrance, stood a man, handsome and tall and eternally transfixed on my being. He gave me an eerily piercing gaze and I shuddered. I tried to leave quickly but he approached me and began jeering me in the most unpleasant manner. I could not leave somehow, or didn’t want to appear frightened, so I stayed in the store. He continued speaking but changed his tone to more of a supplication of sorts.

He told me that I was the most captivating creature he’d ever seen and that I ‘belonged’ to him. He said that I should accompany him to his home and stay with him. His tone and directness terrified me somehow. Then, I saw you in the store; you were wearing plain clothes: a t-shirt and bermudas or sweatpants so I ran to you, seeking your protection but again you were preoccupied and unaware of me. It was as if I could do nothing to get your attention. That was my nightmare.

I left the store alone in hopes to get away from the man but he pursued me and became more forceful and aggressive with me. At that moment, flustered and hopeless, I dropped my belongings and closed distance with my attacker. I fought him until he was on the ground and berated him with insults. I got a second wind and showered him with more blows until he begged me to stop. I couldn’t stop. I wanted him to breathe his last… I wanted to see the life exit his body. I was determined to see him dead. I can’t remember the rest of the dream, only that I met you again and I begged you to make love to me. You didn't pay attention to me otherwise.

Serie Anonimo

Anonymous Series

La Primera/The First

One of the final things you said seemed unenlightened from my perspective. Though I could bring myself to understand or accept this situation as a reality for others, it never crossed my mind that, perchance, such circumstances would ever fall upon me or mine. That is, if you would allow yourself to be mine. You broached the topic carefully and I understood it immediately for it was of sensitive and somewhat scandalous nature.

La Segunda/The Second

Today I felt particularly drawn to you. I wanted to tell you about something that happened over the weekend but it wasn't exactly appropriate and we had company. I can't tell you how much I love talking to you alone in your office. I really like it when I hear you playing some music or practicing alone in there between classes. That's why I peek in and sit with you, even if I don't have anything of interest to talk about. Sometimes, when you get really quiet, it feels cozy and safe, even if we're sitting far apart. I'm glad I met you and that we're becoming friends because I feel like I can speak freely with you unlike others. I feel like we've been friends for ages, possibly lifetimes, and that you understand my subtle moods quickly as well as their cause. I don't have to reveal much to you; intuitively, you perceive and understand everything perfectly such that at times I feel you're a mind reader! I feel that you sense my eagerness when I walk in the door or the hesitation by the sound of my dragging feet or defensiveness when I hide out in the room alone for a while listening to music or watching puppy videos. Sometimes, we don't have to say anything at all but remain silent, comfortably in each other’s presence. Why wouldn't you feel the same around me if I feel that way about you? Isn't that how Mother Nature designed attraction and coded this into our biology?

La Tercera/The Third

Oh, when she came into your office I wanted to rush her out. I know she has a bit of a crush on you and, though I understand her, I frequently feel irritated when she simply barges in or when she interrupts or distracts you from our conversations. I feel that way and I think you do as well; in fact, I’m sure you can sense my annoyance and jealously of her. You love her so much and she loves you but I’m starved, absolutely starved, for your attention. Pay attention to me! Why don’t you ever look at me when I gaze lovingly at you? Is it that you’re afraid to make contact with me? I assure you that I desperately desire every bit of your affections and attentions, but frequently I feel your trepidation and fear.

Is it that you’re ashamed of me? I’m not ashamed of you. I want you—every part of you but I also know your position. You’re in a position of authority and power in so many ways and your life is very public to your students. Why wouldn’t you feel a bit ashamed of me? I represent every unethical possibility and disastrous outcome and scandal. I promise I’d do my best to keep your public life safe from prying eyes and use utmost discretion. Couldn’t it work if we sat down and carefully planned ahead?

My Moon

I woke up in the middle of the night tossing and turning today. After composing this, I fell sound asleep and slept through the night! I figured it must be some enchantment spell so I wrote it down for later use.

Ode to A Moon

When I pursue you, you hide yourself.

When I flee you, you chase me.

When I hold my gaze, you shy away.

When I ignore you, you take me!

Gita Jayanti Dream

Today I had a dream about the Lord again.
Today is Gita Jayanti Day, the day Bhagavad Gita was spoken on the battlefield of Kurukshetra.
My dream was set on the battlefield, in fact. I was thinking about this metaphor for life and I realized there would be many lesser battles that I would have to participate in before I could be strong enough to fight in a large war alongside the great warriors. As I was contemplating this, Lord Hanuman appeared before me and asked me, "Do you know Arjuna's battle cry?" I responded in the negative and he said, "Just see! I'll take you there." With this mystic powers, he shrunk me down to the size of a worn down pencil and took me along the sidelines of the Kurukshetra battlefield. There I saw thousands upon thousands of chariots, horses, elephants, and millions of warriors primed for battle. He took me in closer and pointed out Arjuna's chariot, "There it is! Look closely!" he said as he pointed out the sacred banner waving proudly from Arjuna's chariot. "I sit atop his chariot. Look, I am there upon his flag!"

I felt silly throughout, I knew that Hanuman was on Arjuna's flag, but why did he ask me if I knew Arjun's battle cry? Suddenly I heard Hanuman shout, "Jay Ramachandra Bhagavan!" and then someone else shouted "Jai Bajrangbali!" I felt certain it was none other than Arjuna himself.
Though I had some doubt as to whether Hanumanji was ever present during the Mahabharat, I got this sense that I would be better off simply accepting the lesson and blessed appearance of Hanuman in my dream. Jai Bajraangbali! Jai Ramchandra Bhagavan! Jai Sri Krishna Bhagavan!
I still don't know what the dream really was about, but I want to ask my scholar friends about Hanuman's role during Mahabharat.

Jazz Head

This Party Is On
So my latest dream takes place at a party and it begins with my my son and I showing up to the venue of an arts and crafts themed children's party. The host set up crafting stations for every craft imaginable. For example, one table was fully equipped with felt puppet making supplies like googly-eyes, hot glue guns, felt, etc. while another was a paper crafting table. The host even hired chaperones for each table-- most of them retired teachers and volunteers. My son was enamored with all the tables and decided to make a rouched black pencil skirt. After machine stitching the skirt panels, he hand-basted some loose gathers at the center front and back to get an idea of what the skirt would look like. I really loved the skirt, it looked great, especially for a nine year old's first try at sewing. The stitches were straight and even, the tension on his thread looked perfect, but the basting was a little slanted. The only thing he worried about was the size of the skirt because he hadn't taken my exact hip measurements before starting. "I think it looks fine, babe, but I can try on the skirt if you want." I said as I ducked into a nearby bathroom.
Rouched Mess
What I hadn't taken into account was that the material was stretchy and he hadn't used elasticized thread on the gathers or stretched the material as he stitched the vertical basting stitch so the hem was too high at the center front and back. When I tried on the skirt, my crotch and butt were completely exposed while the rest of the garment rested snuggly on my thighs. I have to disclose that I wasn't wearing any under garments, so I couldn't even model the skirt for him because there was a room full of nine and ten year olds that surely would laugh at my humiliation. It was like third grade all over again. I tugged hopelessly at the front of the skirt until the basting thread popped and the skirt front fell near my knees. Krishna Chandra knocked and peeped from behind the door and giggled at the silly sight. "It's alright, I can fix that later." he reassured me. He only saw the front of the skirt and I explained to him that I couldn't possibly come out because the back was more embarrassing; the basted gathers bunched up to the point of least resistance somewhere along my lower back. He got the picture and just had a fit. Besides the mishap with the basting stitch, the skirt was well-made. I assured him that we could finish the project at home where we had more materials and measuring tape. He laughed and I looked for my lover to show him Krishna Chandra's outfit.

Social Butterly

As it turns out, I knew plenty of people at the party, and by 'people' I mean intelligent adults with whom I could converse with for more than three minutes at length. Apparently, I was single because everyone at this party either kept asking me if I was seeing anyone yet or they would flirt and ask me out. I was seeing someone, and by 'seeing' I mean I was having casual sex with someone I knew but we weren't an official couple. My dream self is not very complicated but she confuses me. I really enjoyed the attention at the party but as the party went on, I started to feel guilty about lying to my friends about my relationship status. I wanted them to know the truth but I didn't know if my lover wanted to be my boyfriend yet. I looked for him everywhere as he assured me that he would be at the event, which, as I already related was more like an Arts and Crafts fair than a kid's birthday party. I started to feel bored and frustrated without my partner and so I left search for him. I wondered if he had fallen asleep or if he was sick, or if something terrible had happened to him.
Mountain Cabin
Around that time, someone mentioned to me that a huge storm was headed toward my lover's house and several attendees got emergency weather alerts from the National Weather Service in close succession on their smart phones. Thunderstorm warning. Flash floods. Hail. Heavy Rain. Flood warning. The jarring sounds of emergency alarms resonated in the corridors, which amplified the cacophony and my trepidation. I jumped into my car and drove to my lover's part of town and then hiked the rest of the way up to his cabin. He lived in a log cabin with a beautiful scenic mountain near a lake or river. As I hiked up to his place, I noticed the emerging thunderstorm clouds nearing the mountain and remembered that terrifying sound of resounding alarms so I ran up the rest of the way. I saw my lover's vehicle nearby and an unknown car as well. I thought that he must've gotten tied up with unexpected guests and was hosting them. Being cut off from cell towers and internet, he must not have received my texts of any weather alerts. It all made sense; I just had to warn them that the storm was on its way to this part of town and get them out of here before the flood water washed away the mountain side. Images of landslides and a collapsing mountain side wiping my lover's cabin from the face of the Earth rushed through my mind. As I approached his window side, I caught a glimpse of him in bed with a young blonde woman. As it turns out, my secret lover is none other than my husband, Chandaneswar. I should relate that is a recurring theme in my dream. It is unclear whether Chandaneswar and I are divorced, separated or if we were ever married in the dream. I just know that I'm an available single mother, a flirt, and I'm sleeping with an asshole. I don't know what it means, and it doesn't matter because we're at the scariest, darkest, most sinister, disturbing part of the dream. I hiked up the mountain trail past my lover's cabin and looked down at the view.
As I stood on the mountain side, a deep sense of calm detachment washed over me. I realized that his cabin was a perfect bachelor pad. I began to contemplate my life and wonder if it I wanted to make a scene or confront them. I grew apathetic and indifferent and concluded that it really didn't matter. I was using him as much as he was using me; perhaps I only wanted him for the purposes of filling a void in an uncomfortable social scenario. After all, I wasn't accustomed to handling social events alone. Eventually I would have to accept this new identity and social dynamic. As the storm descended upon that mountain, I decided to let my lover and his lady friend brave the storm and its wrathful destruction on their own. I didn't have to warn them, after all. Maybe they would perish in the flood water and resulting landslide. Who knows? Who can say for sure? Who knows the future?
Creative Destruction
I ran back to my car, got in and drove back to the party. As I drove, I remained eerily calm and determined that I would write my own future. I would go back to that party and get some phone numbers of people who wanted to be with me, who had no problem asking me out in public, and who didn't keep their cards to themselves. When I got back people were looking for me and asked me where I went and why I took off. I told them that I went to pick up a friend but got scared when I saw the approaching storm so I turned back. They all assured me it was wise that I had come back to the party quickly, I have a young son to care for after all. Krishna Chandra was still hanging out at the sewing station so I sat at an empty bench, grabbed some scrap paper and started jotting down lyrics, chord progressions, and a simple melody line. In my melancholic trance, it quickly turned into a jazz chart and song about murdering my lover and his mistress. I showed it to a couple of jazz guys and musicians at the party and asked them if they thought it was any good. The consensus was that it was inexplicably brilliant. "Have you ever written jazz before?" someone asked. "No, but I guess I should." I replied.

The Violin Story

This story takes place during my fourth grade year at H. S. Thompson Learning Center. I'm excited that I get to tell you this story because I've only shared this story with one person.... and I don't think it counts because that person was my therapist. So, this is the first time I've ever shared this story and its profound significance with anyone. Wow.
Alright, let me set the scene because this story takes place in an old, smelly portable behind our school. The floors squeaked and creaked and the air conditioning never worked and you had sweaty bodies smelling up the poor place and it always seemed bewilderingly fragile like a really strong gust of wind could bring it all crashing down. Well, you should know that this particular portable was no ordinary place, despite the health and hazardous code violations; it transported us to a magical realm.
I should also introduce you to Ms. Waites, who is the protagonist of this tale; though it's my story, she's the real heroine. Ms. Waites was my violin teacher, Strings director, a talented violinist, an inspirational teacher and all around well-rounded, colorful human being full of love and light.
I met Ms. Waites in Art class with Ms. Packard; she was going around signing up students for strings classes. As you may know, I sprung from the womb with my life's missions etched into my soul so I knew from the moment I saw Ms. Waites that this woman would change my life. I leaped at the opportunity to sign up and asked her a dozen questions on the spot. She went for it.
Okay, here's where things travel into a gray area in my character. When I asked my mother if I could play an instrument, she didn't want to be bothered either because I was generally a very demanding child and asked too damn many questions (nagged the hell out of her) or she didn't understand that the course and material was free. Instead of bothering myself with trying to convince my mother to sign the form, I decided to take an expedited route. Also, I knew that I probably lacked the innate persuasive abilities as a young child so I didn't even try. Who understands the reasoning and logic of a child? Who cares?
After assessing the risk involved, I decided that no life force on the face of this planet was capable of stealing this opportunity from me so I went ahead and forged my mom's signature, filled in all the necessary paper work and returned the forms to my new favorite teacher, Ms. Waites. How in the world Ms. Waites accepted it at face value is beyond me but I imagine she looked the other way due to my zeal. Maybe she was desperate for students? Who cares?
This is the best part of the story..
The day comes to get our instrument assignments and, of course, I draw the short straw of the lot. Everyone else had taken Strings before so they knew which instruments were in disrepair and they called dibs on the good ones. I was too slow, naive, and inexperienced to understand the ways of humans so I took the instrument handed to me with wide eyes and a smile. The other kids took it upon themselves to inform me of my violin's condition. I mean, they made damn sure that I knew it was a pile of junk. I was upset and Ms. Waites could tell somehow. Maybe it was my fanciful display of a temper tantrum that tipped her off... I don't know. Who cares?
Ms. Waites instinctively knew, as all great instructors do, what to tell me in order to inspire me. She appealed to my sense of work ethic, pride, and ego with just a phrase. Intuitively she said, "Melissa, if you can make this instrument sing, you can make anything sing." and with that I was pacified and determined in my mission. I told myself that day, "If anyone can make this instrument sing, it will be me." and that's been my motto since childhood. I rely strongly on my own skill and ability, not the instruments, and from that day forward that expression has been like a mantra that I whisper to myself daily.
Its important for us to remember that our tools will only take us so far in life. We must rely on our talents, skills and technical ability to carry us through the task at hand.
 :)

My Deepest Darkest Secret

My new passport arrived in the mail this week. I'm really excited because the next step is to get my visas transferred to the new book. I ordered the larger passport because I intend to travel abroad as much as possible. I haven't had enough time to practice this week or do much studying because I was so exhausted from our road trip that I had a hard time catching up with my normal routine. I only went to Taekwondo a couple times this week but I feel like my body is getting back to 100%. Slowly but surely.
Tomorrow is Śrī Nityānanda Trayodaśi and I couldn't be happier. I feel like I haven't been to the temple in ages and, at the same time, like I need a break from everything. I need to withdraw and take time for myself. I don't know if that's strange but sometimes it's just better for me to relax and recover. I feel as if I'm mentally preparing for something incredibly life-changing and transformative. I don't know if its something in the air, my intuition, or what. Somehow, I feel like this trip to India is going to be ground shattering, even though I've been before and nothing particularly exciting happened.
I wanted to talk to you about my dream... the one I had when I was in India. About eight years ago, I was in Belpukur village with my in-laws and I had a weird dream. I was back in high-school except it was not a high-school anymore. The campus was also a college and a lot of my friends from school were studying or teaching there. I went there to pursue a degree and met with a few class-clowns from freshman year. I thought they were irritating in fact; their antics were no longer amusing but distracting and disruptive. I chucked a couple times but the novelty quickly wore off. I don't know what the hell this means so don't ask me. After class, another professor came in, a guru! He was someone I was close to and highly respected; he was also extremely dear to me so I felt bad that he had to deal with us, that he had to instruct us. It was strange, a saffron-clad Gaudiya monastic teaching a mathematics course? At any rate, I woke up with a feeling of urgency. I had to go back to school, take my spirituality more seriously and help others by giving back. I wanted to teach again. I wanted to play my violin again. I wanted to open an ashram, temple, and university in Belpukur. It was ingrained in my mind and for eight years it has slowly eaten away at my conscience. I feel guilty that I haven't taken steps toward my dream. I can't sleep at night because I'm trying to hash out plans to make this project happen. What do I do? Where do I start? Who do I ask for help? How will it manifest? So, I've broken this idea into smaller phases and goals to make them more realistic. I decided to pursue a degree in Music Education, as well as take some business or administrative courses. Over the years, it has nagged at me and, feeling the project was too far-fetched, I kept it hidden-- a secret. My most intimate hidden contribution to society and my goal of life.
When I first started school we had a project in one of our classes-- setting out a long-term goal, short term goals, and life long dreams. Of course, it didn't take long for my dream to come pouring out and when it did, I realized why I was so miserable. I have been locking my deepest, most daring desires away because I was afraid others would laugh at it. I don't care anymore. In fact, I've found that it helps me to discuss it with people and pick other people's brains. There are people in this world who have experience beyond our own and if we don't express our interests, there is no way they'll ever know who we really are. They will never have an idea of our inner most inclinations and that person may be a hidden gem, a treasure trove of knowledge waiting to give its bounty.
So I'm letting you know in hopes that you're also a vidya-ratna, a gem of knowledge and wisdom, and will assist me or guide me in actualizing my dream. Thank you.
About Sri Bilva-pakkha, Belpukhuriya, Belpukur

Five Strange Dreams

This past week I've had a series of dreams that are disturbing, weird, freaky, or just hilarious. I promise you that each was rich in overwhelming detail and if I were to indulge you with it, I'd be able to write a few short stories out of them. I am even considering doing the same and illustrating some of the vividly grotesque and enchanting images therein. Here is a list of dreams I had this past week, mind you, this is only about five... I have two or three dreams a night and these are just the ones I can recall great detail. There are others that weren't as memorable because they lacked shock value and captivating imagery.
I had a dream that I performed a marriage ceremony with an animal sacrifice ritual.
I had a dream that I was lactating suddenly after cuddling my son and talking about babies.
I had a dream that I was a work-study student and found an abandoned infant in the bathroom.
I had a dream that I was on a medical university campus and my car was stolen from the parking lot.
I had a dream that I took a married man's sexual advancements under consideration.

Interested yet? Yes? I'll tell you what happened in each of these dreams, and since they're so long and detailed, I'll do my best to be concise.

Dream 1: The Marriage Sacrifice
I stood atop a desert canyon covered in succulents and rocks with a young couple; we all wore pure white cotton cloth. I held a mantra manuscript in my own handwriting, the couple held fertility symbols: a venomous snake and an apple tree. I chanted some mantras, held their hands in my own and declared them lawfully married. Nearby lay a machete, some bronze-ware pots and dark soil. I proceed to chant sacrificial mantras over the items, provoke the cobra, kill it with my machete, and transplant the tree with the upper third of the snake's body lightly buried into the pot. The blood of the victim rejuvenated the soil, his eye peered straight out, and his body stood erect with his hood fully expanded as if he were guarding the tree. I skinned the lower two-thirds of the snake and adorned the bride with the snakeskin. I filled a bronze pot with soil, sprinkled it with blood, buried the remains, and sent them on their way with their nuptials. The entire ceremony lasted less than an hour.

Dream 2: Spilled Milk
Krishna Chandra and I sat on our bed comfortably and talked about babies at length. He asked me if I wanted more children, and I told him that I only wanted a child if she was a perfect replica of him-- intelligent, affectionate, generous, warm and understanding. I reminisced about his infancy, held him close to my breasts and kissed his beautiful face. I told him how wondrous those days were, how happy he made me, and I shed tears of joy as I gazed into his tender eyes. Immediately, I felt my breasts tingle, swell, and feel wet. When I asked him to move his head from my chest, my swollen breast fell out of my blouse and sprayed milk. He was surprised and in awe, "Is it milk?" he asked. I asked him to taste it, and he exclaimed it was the sweetest milk he ever tasted. Unbearably swollen, Krishna Chandra milked and massaged my breasts while I gushed milk all over his face. He giggled and laughed like a baby, jumped up and down upon the bed, and I beamed with happiness. I told him that my overwhelming love and affection for him brought on this phenomenon.

Dream 3: The Orphan
I was on work-study program at a prestigious university campus where I studied music. The other students mostly left for the day; we had a performance the next morning and I was in charge of cleaning the hall and bathrooms for the concert. The director of the music department left me only a single key, he warned, "All the doors will lock behind you except the bathroom, you must lock them yourself." I understood my charge and got to work quickly by first spraying the hard surfaces in the restroom and left to vacuum the hall. When I returned, I gathered the trash bags, replaced them, and wiped the disinfectant from all the hard surfaces. As I neared the last stall, I noticed a staircase leading to the ceiling. It must have been part of the old structure because the attic was sealed shut and the stairs led nowhere. At the top of the narrow stairs was a bundle of laundry, and it appeared to move slightly. I went up the ladder and grabbed the linens. It was an abandoned newborn, umbilical cord still intact. I called campus police, informed the director, and tried to calm the now crying infant. They said I needed child services and no one on campus offered me any further help. I saw a couple students and prodded them for information. No one had information, but the students enthusiastically helped me care for the baby girl.

Dream 4: I was on tour at a medical university campus. I was indecisive about my plans but heard the school had a great program that interested me. I drove my little Honda to the campus with my family, dropped them off at the auditorium, and left to park the car. I circled around the parking lot like a vulture waiting for a carcass to pick, but at least they had covered garage parking. Finally, I parked near the hospital, and left excitedly toward our rendezvous point. Chandan and Krishna Chandra had fun in the student center playing games, snacking, and interacting with other families. When I reached, the boys said they made up their mind: they loved the campus and I was applying ASAP, end of story. The tour no longer interested them, they had ventured off with some student volunteers and gotten the low-down. "Let me finish this game and we can be home in time for dinner." said Chandan. "Sure... is that okay with you sona?" Krishna Chandra agreed, I could go pull the car around while they finished their chess game. A few of the other attendants laughed and said they wished their relatives were as supportive and eager about their decision. Happily, I set off; as I neared my space, I looked around in confusion. I spotted a young man I recognized, an old friend and asked him if he could help. "Strange, are you sure you're on the right level?" "Of course. I parked right here in front of the hospital driveway; I remember this space exactly." He helped me call the campus security, and I gave my car's description. I walked back to tell the boys what happened. They came out and helped comb the parking lots.

Dream 5: I was on vacation with my family on the beach where I met an older, handsome, charming man. He was very debonair, the type that you see in old classic films, perfectly coiffed and charismatically witty. He told me he was also on vacation with his family, but he was restless and bored. I caught his eye, he told me we could have an affair as perfect strangers and never see each other again. At first, I was offended by his offer, but he asked me to sleep on it and reconsider. He was staying at the same hotel, gave me his room number, and assured me he could keep a secret. No one ever has to know about our tryst. As the day passed, I soon forgot about the man, and filled the day socializing and enjoying my friend's and family's company. When I got back to my room, I found a cryptic post-it note with a number, no name, no detail, no further information. It was him! His brazen audacity shocked me; what if my husband had suspected something? It kept me up at night and I tossed and turned until I finally began to relent. "Maybe?" 

The Two Lovers

I had two lovers; I loved them both dearly and they loved me. One lover was tall, dark and handsome while the other was shorter, fair and pleasing. They both had very different resolve and character. The dark and handsome one was more passionate, assertive and confided his deepest thoughts to me. He was also rather grave and severe in temperament. The fair and pleasant lover was yielding, passive and accepting. He rarely expressed himself in a strong voice and often accepted or comprised to my demands. I couldn't make up my mind about who I loved more so I decided to keep them both. I informed both parties and, predictably, one lover spoke out against the idea while the other accepted my decision without argument. Their starkly different reactions only seemed to endear them more to me and this made me feel even worse. My fair lover and I had a child together; we both cared for the baby and I made sure he got to know his father. I carried on as a couple with my dark love but lied about the nature of my relationship with my fair lover. He was under the impression that we had broken up and I was only seeing him out of obligation to our baby. This was, of course, far from the truth; I used any pretext to visit my secret lover when I was pining for him. The secrecy seemed to intensify my passion for him, not only did I love him, and lust for him deeply, but now I had to carry on in secret and the separation from him was unbearable. One day, as I walked across the parking lot to his apartment, I saw my child's car seat smashed to piece. I recognized it instantly and it frightened me. I searched out my secret lover's car in the parking lot but his usual space was empty and my intuition told me that something terrible had happened. After all, he didn't live in a good neighborhood and there had been frequent break-ins at his apartment complex. When I called his cellphone, it went straight to voicemail and I ran to his apartment to look for clues. His apartment was an empty, filthy mess with no sign of our baby or him. I called my boyfriend to ask him if he'd heard from my 'ex' or knew if he'd left out of town. He consoled me and said that my 'ex' had just called and told him that someone stole his car but the baby was fine and everyone was alright. He soon returned in a different car to the apartment with our baby and I felt relieved that my child was unharmed. 

Just Do It

Fucked up dream. I woke up scared and almost in tears. I had an dream about a really awesome festival and an older kirtaniya devotee was visiting Dallas. I knew him back in my ashram days, he led really energetic, powerful Kirtan that usually swelled to a climax wherein everyone, men, women, and children, would start holding hands and jumping up and down. It was going to be ecstatic chaos and I couldn't wait!
Anyway, my friend Dolly didn't know about this devotee or the event so I urged her to come because it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. On her way to the festival, she overheard some devotees talking about me so she eavesdropped and was shocked to hear what they were saying. I texted her to find out if she made it to the temple and she said she had but it was an emergency and we needed to talk in person right away.
Apparently, my beloved husband, Chandaneswar went about town bragging about how he had found a new love and he was plotting to break up with me. Of course, he needed it to look like I was mentally or emotionally unstable and he was just a good, loyal husband so he was going to gaslight me and do horrible, cold shit just to get me to leave him first. Then, he would be free to pursue this new mistress without any criticism from the community. His friends knew this was his plan for some time; Chandaneswar was waiting for the perfect time to strike and they decided to keep it to themselves and not warn me.
For the record, the plan failed miserably. It totally backfired. He kept being mean and saying horrible things to me so I confronted him about it. I asked him if what Dolly heard was true and he confirmed that it was. I didn't want to believe that Chandaneswar could be so cruel to me after almost ten years of marriage. What could have changed in just the past week for him to completely turn around like that? He said that he never really loved me, he just married me because I was "marriage material" and the best candidate. Its not like he could bring just anyone to meet his parents. I was a great housewife but just a placeholder until someone better came along. The past ten years was just a very elaborate ploy to establish his reputation as a good, upstanding husband and father so he could get away with his affairs. I was extremely useful to that end, he added; he exploited my natural obedience and loyalty to religious and social dogma to build himself a social status that was above suspicion. After all, a man was only as good as the woman next to him.
I was in tears sobbing violently and he consoled me by saying, "Hey, take it as a compliment, it did take ten years to find someone better." I told him that he could be with her if he wanted her so badly, he could have confided in me and I wouldn't mind his sexual indiscretions but I would not walk away from him. I gave everything to him and I wouldn't be able to move on after giving my entire heart. I told him that our union was sanctioned by the Lord and witnessed by the entire body of devotees so our marriage took precedence over his lust. "She can be your seva-dasi, I'll even spare an allowance for her, but she is subordinate to me first. I'm not budging."
At this point, Chandaneswar became desperate to get rid of me. He didn't want anyone to find out what he did. He continued berating me, saying the most hurtful things he could come up with. I desperately told him, "I'd rather die than lose my honor. I vowed to be your partner in this lifetime and the next before the Lord. If I can't follow through on my word of honor, I'd rather kill myself." Suddenly, Chandaneswar's eyes lit up as he realized that he stumbled on a easy solution. I ran for a knife or dagger of some sort and asked him to recant. "Please tell me you're mistaken, prabhu. I know you love me. If you don't love me, if you don't want me as your wife, I'll gladly die." Chandaneswar fell silent for a moment before he spoke the awful words, "Do it."
When I woke up, it was 6am and Chandaneswar was standing next to the bed, "Babe, I made some fake tuna, you can make tuna sandwiches for sona's lunch." I told him the nightmare, that he was trying to get me to commit suicide so he could be with another woman. "Never! You worship Vrinda Devi, tell her everything and she will protect you. It will never come true. Tell Tulasi Devi." I held on to him tightly before he left for work and he squeezed me to his chest. I wanted to cry but I had no reason to do so. It was just a dream, after all.

Bleeding Out

Today we went for our usual walk after dinner. Krishna Chandra caught up with Rasa Lila Devi. Chandaneswar and I chanted around the block. We went for darshan in the evening and I saw Indulekha Devi at the temple making garlands. I haven't seen her in a while so we caught up for a few minutes. I asked her if I could assist her in her service, and she kindly obliged. She then told me about her recent trip to India; she said she became gravely ill there and almost died due to lack of treatment facilities and prompt care. Where there were devotees, they lacked proper resources and treatment; where treatments were available, the staff refused to treat her without payment up front!
I couldn't believe my ears, but then again I could believe my ears, having spent an extended period in India previously myself and becoming ill there. I honestly felt alone and hopeless there; at times I even contemplated the worst-- "Just give up, go drown yourself in the Ganga. It's hopeless. Nobody care anyway."
I hope to spend more time with Indulekha. Recently I re-evalutated my priorities during my travels and realized that our community needs serious help. There are many things that, like Indulekha's gut, are hemorrhaging even though there are solutions, none are implemented due to lack of resources, training, or sheer indifference. What would become of us if we neglected the care of even one Vaishnav? What would our community lose? Can we afford to lose even one?
Not only are we hemorrhaging, but we need to replace the lost blood, and treat the source of infection. The problem is multifaceted, therefore, treatment should be approached with many perspectives... not just one view. I apologize for the series of medical metaphors. Maybe Indulekha's story shocked me deeply, or maybe I'm just impressionable, or maybe I watch too much Grey's Anatomy. I don't know. We have a problem and it needs addressing.
The other day I remembered several devotees that I was close to, and remembered that they are all gone. They have left the movement, moved or away or passed away. I don't know if you remember Lalita-Krishna prabhu, but he was always very kind and instructive to me. Lavanga-Latika told me the other day that he left his body, and I was completely oblivious that he was ill again. Another devotee was Ramachandra prabhu; both left the community about eight years ago. Some devotees passed away, like Urjeswat prabhu, Bharat prabhu, and Lalita Krishna prabhu, and sometimes I cry because I feel I can't connect with the new generation. My ashram leaders, instructors, and mentors have moved on or passed away. What will become of me and our movement as we have to face the inevitable truth that all things must pass?
I don't know what would have happened if Indulekha had left us, but surely it would have left such a gaping void in our community that we would struggle to recover for years. Could I personally be capable of facing another death? I don't think so. I don't know if I can handle it anymore. On average, I'm losing a loved one about every two years, and the clock is ticking. I can't afford to waste any time.
Here I've been happily enjoying my summer with friends and family, partying my youthful energy away. 

Venti

My life has flashed by me in a blur these past few weeks.
I am now party to an infatuation gone awry.
I don't have any idea how many weeks of schoolwork I have to catch-up on.
I want to talk to someone desperately, but have found it hard to open up.
I'm beginning to think I have a legitimate disorder...
well, not really.
I'm the sanest person I know.
I'm also extremely happy.
 It's really weird, not in the sense that I'm not normally happy.
In the sense that I normally can't appreciate the situation for what it is.
I'm in a strange conundrum lately.
I'm satisfied with the way things are, and yet I find myself restless and longing for more.
I tell myself this is just my false ego and bodily identification and yearning for material sensuality.
Except, I find myself regretting all that at times, and I sometimes go into introspective trances as if I were daydreaming.
It makes me really wonder what the hell is going on.
Sometimes I snap out of it when I see or feel something I enjoy.
Sometimes it happens if I hear a beautifully arranged piece of music that moves me deep inside.
I forget all about spirituality and wonder if I'm not missing out.
I ask myself if I'm just trying to make myself feel superior to the rest of humanity by depriving myself of more sensual pleasures on the plea of spirituality, austerity, and some such.
Whatever.
When I'm meditating, I don't usually get powerful realizations.
Lately I feel them coming on with more frequency and I have this urge to release myself to them.
Surrender!
But I'm torn, entangled, conflicted.
Which way do I go?

Radha Madhava-Kalachandji

This morning, at 3:51 am, I woke up from a strange dream. I dreamt I was at a temple, possibly Mayapur, during a large festival gathering. From what I could tell, this was not an American temple, it looked like Mayapur Chandradaya mandir,  except Radha Kalachandji stood where Radha Madhava stand amidst the sakhira. I scanned the temple room to find familiar faces, but to no avail. I pondered if this would be my last opportunity to see Them once again, and gasped for breath. The thought alone petrified and paralyzed me in fear. I threw myself upon the floor, offering astanga pranam, and began rolling my entire body, such as the Bangladeshi mothers do in full, loving surrender.
"I may never see you again, my Lord. I don't know when I will see you again." It seems from my behavior, that this was a special darshan, meaning, no one else saw Kalachandji; this was a special significator for something amazing and rare. When I looked up, I saw a familiar face, a devotee from our community was taking darshan of Radha Madhava-Kalachandji; she was completely alone, and she was wearing non-devotional attire. I thought this was strange because she usually wears saris.
When I looked up to see Kalachandji, I noticed that He was taking darshan of Mataji; Sri Radhe and Kalachandji were having darshan of their devotee, and Kalachandji gracefully smiled at her. I could understand that only by special mystic vision could I witness this occurrence, and I bowed before Their Lordships once again, rolling on the ground.
I typically don't journal these dreams publicly for the same reason, but I thought I would write it anyway. I don't know whether I should reveal this dream to this Mataji or if I should keep it secret. I have a feeling this dream has a deep significance, and it may be better if I keep it to myself. 

Wandering

Happy Balaram Purnima

For those who are not familiar, today is the advent of Lord a Balaram, Krishna's older brother, protector, and best friend. I'd like to share an informative article about Him here. http://harmonist.us/2014/08/all-rests-on-balarama/

Last night I had a similar dream to the one before. It was more like a nightmare in that all the events were unfortunate coincidences and worst case scenarios in succession. 

First, it appears that I'm backpacking through Colorado with a friend. We both have close friends there and decided to crash on their couches. During the day, we had activities planned, but were mostly strapped for cash so we kept our accommodations at a minimum. It seems Chandaneśwar prabhu and Krishna Chandra prabhu did not accompany me on my trip. It's just me and my buddy, let's call him... Joe.

 Anyway, Joe and I have the most unreliable friends on the planet, and both flake out, so we are out on the streets with no shelter, or money, and it's cold, and it's just started storming, and it's night. Did I mention we have no money, and a single cellphone with no charger and a dying battery? I'm looking for my friend, Jacob, at his friend's place, but he's no where to be found. I can't contact him, and he's outside in the cold, freezing rain wthout any rain gear. We are fucked, and there's an intruder breaking into the house-- I have to act immediately to the most urgent problem. The head of household, Jake's friend, is out, she has children, about five-- all filthy, unsupervised, and malnourished. The house is so horribly messy, I can't make my way around the room without tripping or bumping myself. I get to the back entrance to disarm the intruder, but the children are crying for attention. They are hungry, tired, dirty, and afraid. I want to help the children, but with no resources, food, or assistance, the task seems out of my hands. I decide to leave the unsupervised children, pack as many belongings as possible into a couple backpacks, look for my friend Josh, and call Children's welfare and protective services later. I leave in search for a suitable shelter, like a park with plenty of tree cover, but hope to find a cemetery. The city looks like Denver, I remembered a local cemetery/park, and headed in that direction. There are plenty of trees that provide overhead cover, but other threats are present. There is a strange man who appears to be a demon in the guise of a common thug. As threatening individuals approach me, I fear for my safety, but no one physically harms me. Mostly they ask for money, or try to rob me, but I manage to talk my way out of the situations without fighting. I feel relieved because I'm famished, low on energy, and incapable of continuing on so heavily encumbered. I can't find my friend, Jake/Josh/Joe/Jacob, but it doesn't matter because I'm too exhausted to continue searching. I find a suitable place to camp for the night, and wake up from my dream. It's not even five o'clock. 

I couldn't remember the details of today's dream, only that it ran in a similar theme of anxiety, paranoia, homelessness, or aimless wandering. I went to Temple to swing the Deities this morning, and felt very faint, lightheaded, and tingling in my face and limbs. It startled me, and I wondered why I had symptoms of hypoxia. I seated myself, drank water, and rested until my husband came for me. It was embarrassing but thankfully only one person was present. I still am not sure why that happened, only that sheer panic coursed my mind at the thought of falling unconscious. 

Dream Vignettes

A couple of days ago I had a weird dream that I purchased a house with no roof, floors, walls, or foundation. The entire thing was just the bare frame with no plumbing or wiring, and I kept pushing the contractors to work quickly demolishing the pieces of dilapidated wall still attached to the skeletal frame. I kept repeating, "She has good bones, we can build on her, never mind the foundation." and a contractor quipped, "What foundation! Just tear it down and start from scratch." I looked around to survey the house, and decided it would look amazing once completed. The entire house was in shambles; it appeared to be abandoned long ago and left to rot away. I paced across wood planks to explore the huge property more carefully. Entire rooms were floor-less, and you could see the earth and critters beneath. I insisted that we could dig down and build a basement. I desperately wanted a basement with a pool table, ping-pong table, large screen television and entertainment set. It would be mine. As I stood around fantasizing about my future home, the contractors made a case for demolishing the entire thing. "No, this home has history, look at the high ceilings, long hallways, and large rooms! She stays, we can make it work." No one else seem persuaded by my vision. The house was enormous with large dining halls, gorgeously open windows, and  beautiful rear garden; she only needed loving attention to bring her to her full glory.

Today I had another weird dream that I was jet-setting off to exotic locales. On one of my trips, a young Canadian man became infatuated with me, but I turned him down. He was not deterred, however, and my long silences made him more determined to get my attention. Eventually the young man started stalking me, and he gained valuable information about a secret double life I led. If I had simply pacified him with a friendly email, he might have left me alone. Now he was an utter nuisance. He split his time between gathering incriminating photos and blackmailing me. At some point, he longer wanted a romantic relationship, but got some twisted pleasure out of making me miserable. I decided the best way to protect myself was to dispose of him, so I went on a long trip to Canada to kill him once and for all. On my way there, I met a strange woman claiming to be psychic, but I dismissed her as a mere charlatan. She was Native American and said she could not only predict the future, but look into a person's past as well. As she scryed my eyes, she revealed that I was a princess from a local Native American tribe in a past life. I laughed wholeheartedly and wondered if she expected a generous tip for the information. She added that the man I was about to kill was a lover in my past life, and that if I went through with my plans, we would both have to be reborn to burn off any residual karma.

Against the Grain

Another flood dream:

This time we were traveling to a festival (mela) in some far away place. It took us several hours of driving to arrive, and when we did, we caught a glimpse of our spiritual master and left immediately. Gurudeva had an entourage of disciples and followers around him. They were fanning him and shading him with ornate fans and umbrellas like straight pimpin' boss. Seriously.
We took off back toward Dallas, and on our way we picked up my brother and a friend of mine, Victor. I don't know what they were doing out in the middle of nowhere, but they needed a ride home. I was more than happy to accommodate Victor because we were having car problems. Charles, on the other hand, was utterly useless.
 Our car stalled as we approached Texas, and we were stuck out in on the highway with no nearby garage, auto supply, or tools to speak of. Victor stepped out of the car, jerry-rigged it, and managed to start the car. We headed on our way until we noticed the road literally disappeared before our eyes. "Where the hell is the road?" we asked ourselves. "What the hell is going on?" As it happened, there was a flash flood that washed away large portions of the highway. Along the way, state troopers and local police set up a road block, and advised us to back track and find a different route home. We weren't about to do that with our unreliable transport, so we discussed other options.
 Chandaneswar and Victor reasoned that our vehicle could take a little "off-road action". Afterall, it was a Jeep, and could handle rough terrain even if it did have other issues. I scanned the shoulders and saw most of the ground along the highway was leveled and dry so it was relatively safe. We all agreed, and headed on our way. We cut across the median and first drove into oncoming traffic, as that part of the highway was pretty empty and still viable. Occasionally, we met with traffic, and they honked and shouted profanities at us. We weren't at all phased by it. It was fun, Victor, Krishna Chandra, and I were exhilarated and thrilled as we sped down the highway weaving and dodging other cars.
We kept driving until the road was too damaged and dangerous to use, and drove up on the shoulder. Eventually, even the shoulders were too dangerous, so we ventured even further away onto completely rocky, uneven land. Our SUV was fine though, and we kept going until we found a patch of road that led us back to the highway. The highway was really close to Dallas, and we knew it was only a matter of time until we reached home. We couldn't thank Victor enough. I wanted to punch the SOB who sold us that busted ass Jeep, but maybe I should thank him instead.

Dhām, Dhan, and Dharā

Yesterday I had another interesting dream worth noting. It took place in India at a temple, but one portion involved a local prison, interestingly enough.

In my dream, an old high school friend was traveling with me on a tour. He had a room in the temple's guesthouse, and worked on recording/editing audio. It appears I was performing again, and I was traveling to my favorite places on the pretext of touring. I was in Mayapur again, and the rice paddy was growing high. I couldn't believe it; I was elated and leapt with joy as I walked the muddy roads. There was torrential rain, and roads were washed away. I didn't care that my sari was soaked. I didn't care that I had to hike up my sari and struggle down the muddy, slippery road. I was content. As I struggled toward the temple compound, I sang and skipped along the paths. I saw flood waters near the end of the road, and the surplus spilled into a small dirgha. The river seemed to change its path, and I felt reassured in seeing it. The earth smelled beautifully fragrant, alive with all manner of plants and aquatics. 

I finally arrived back at the temple guesthouse, where I met my friend. He was happy to see I made it safely to Mayapur. He didn't know I'd been there several days already. He was working diligently while I roamed the flooded countryside, and I didn't care to tell him. It was best he found out, it was time I focused on my work. I headed to my room, showered, and changed into a fresh garment. I had an assortment of beautiful gowns, saris, and frocks on my room. I wondered why anyone with such pretty dresses at home would ever choose to run in the muck outside. I felt quiet and alone in my room as the dresses didn't console me, and I suddenly felt the urge to wander the town. 

Restless, I left the temple compound and headed toward the bazaar. There I saw trains, busses, and rickshaws headed in every direction; I walked further and spotted a jail. The jail was a chatur shala building, like a square. The interior courtyard was sealed with metal mesh to keep the prisoners from escaping. Some cried out to me, "Devi, please have mercy. Kripa koren! Bless us, please, that we may leave this place." 

I couldn't understand why they were calling out. I simply felt sad, and wondered what good prayers or blessing would be. Despondent, I turned back and sang a song. The prisoners cried, "Beautiful! Sing more for us, it brings us joy, ma'am. Please don't walk away from us." I turned and proposed to sing more songs if it pleased them, but all devotional songs of Śrī Hari. They wept with joy, and thanked me.   

I headed back, I told them I would return with instruments and more vaishnavas. 

My friend asked me as I wandered in for the second time, glassy-eyed and covered in mud, "Where do you keeping disappearing to?" 

Mayapur. 

Bad Dreams, Good Conversations

On Tuesday morning I woke up early in the morning after a bad dream. The dream itself was not a nightmare, or horrible, or frightening, but it contained a bad omen within it. The omen was a type of astrological phenomenon, it was a bright, white, effulgent moon-like planet, shaped like a bull. It appeared resplendent, but possibly eclipsed somehow, and a red star passed over the bull's head, and appeared like a third eye decorating his crown. Many astrologer devotees exclaimed it was ominous, and danger would befall mankind. "An eclipse, or any strange astrological phenomena is always inauspicious and forebodes evil. We must bathe and chant sincerely to counteract this evil." Others asserted that a bull could not be foreboding, as cows are always auspicious, and dear to the Lord. "Krishna is fulfilled, it is an omen of good tidings. The Lord is pleased with our feast and offerings." Everyone was in disagreement, and our festival was in discord. After the dream, I almost felt like staying home, and not leaving the house at all. I had a sense that something terrible would happen, and that it was better to stay home. After a couple hours, a shower, and Krishna worship, I felt much better, and had completely forgotten the dream. I forgot it so well, in fact, that I did not remember to record or analyze it for days. In the afternoon, I told my husband that I had a great day; in fact, nothing horrible occurred. I had three very distinct in-depth conversations with acquaintances and friends.
The first conversation took place on the bus on the way to school with a young man I know from temple. He and I typically ride the same bus, but I avoid conversing with him at length. Some mornings I greet him politely, but many times I keep a respectful distance and don't speak to him at all. For all purposes, we are practically two strangers on a bus, but on Tuesday, we somehow got to know each other more closely. I asked him about school, but then the conversation was steered toward more philosophical ideas. We discussed debating, philosophizing, and more. As the conversation warmed up, I realized that he and I had much in common. In fact, I will say he reminds me of an earlier version of myself. In my youth, I also took much pride and pleasure in debating philosophy, theories, ideas, and so on. We kept talking the entire ride until we reached school. We parted ways at school, and I headed to class early.
As I arrived, I sat in the hall and greeted a classmate, and we began discussing American culture, or the lack thereof. I expressed to my classmate that, unfortunately, our society does not place much emphasis on culture or respectfulness. Some are uneducated but cultured, others educated but uncultured, some are neither educated nor cultured, but rarely do you find both. I reached the conclusion that I would rather befriend a cultured person, even if he is not highly educated, because such a person is capable of reason and understanding, whereas an uncultured person is not broad-minded, even if he is highly educated. We touched slightly on parenting, and cultivating this quality in children, and he praised me for my efforts with my own child and nephews. This ended our conversation, and we quickly shuffled into the piano lab.
During class our professor mentions music history, and at times we get sidetracked with topical news, current events, and so forth. The small talk makes for great conversational kindling; we sometimes end up discussing deeper issues on society, culture, education, and so on. I did not suspect that discussing current movies and music would lead to a spiritual conversation, but that is exactly what happened. We mentioned a popular movie, and she spoke briefly about a doctor who wrote a book after researching reincarnation and past lives decades ago. She said she was always very skeptical about those things, and added, "I guess everyone is a skeptic until it happens to you." Then, our professor revealed that she believed in spirits, ghosts, past lives and reincarnation. After class, we spoke more intimately, and she recommended a couple books to read on the subject of past life regression, a topic that interested me as a child. I was very happy to hear that she kept an open mind regarding this topic.
I'm glad I left the house Tuesday, for if I had stayed in, I would not have had the stimulating and revealing conversations with my acquaintance,  classmate, or professor.