Dream motifs

After carefully analyzing my dreams, and interpreting them by incorporating the intuitive feelings and sensations I felt during the dream, I have come to the conclusion that my last dream about my emergency Cesarean section, hysterectomy, and extending recovery means that I am undergoing a painful, intensive purge in my life. Significant are the two fathers, one appears to be of a Latino/Asian ethnicity, while the second is African or African American, both of which bear strong resemblances to romantic partners from my past. Both are invested into a future with me, and fight to verify paternity to my child. I wonder if my subconscious is trying to draw attention to my romantic or sexual life, especially with all the symbolism of losing my femininity, power, or sexuality (female reproductive organs, tissue, and c-section). Throughout the dream I seem more anxious about recovery, healing, and completing my procedure. I repeat this to everyone I encounter, my doctor, nurses, lovers, rapist, and strangers in the hospital. I am disgusted by the sanitary conditions within the hospital, but fail to notice it during the initial surgery (Cesarean section, and partial hysterectomy). After encountering the hospital the second time, when my medication wears off, I realise how dirty, dilapidated, and unhygienic the hospital rooms are. Baby is alive but I don't seem concerned about my offspring's well being. I am more concerned about myself. Is my unconscious trying to tell me I spend too much time worrying about others, and place no priority on my own health and well being? Am I overly worried and preoccupied with trivial issues, or the other way around? Some questions are still unclear.Some of the imagery during the dream reminds me of the graphic self-portraiture of Frida Kahlo, perhaps I should explore those feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, powerlessness, and loss more thoroughly.

Emergency Procedure

Threw out my personal journals, in total chronicling approximately the past thirteen years of my life. Experiences with drugs, sex, spirituality, dreams, and loss that were integral to my spiritual, emotional, and psychological growth are all gone.
A strange dream, not yet analyzed:
I'm heavily pregnant at a music event when I collapse, and an ambulance is called for me. As I arrive at the hospital my doctor approaches me with my information, and asks permission for surgery.
 The infant was delivered via emergency cesarean, as my life was in danger. My doctor assured me it was necessary, and I would be alright after the hysterectomy. I seemed un-phased by the loss of my sexual and reproductive organs. My womb was empty, no baby, no organs, and yet left the hospital to search for two possible fathers at the outdoor concert. I urged them both to hurry back to the hospital; additionally, I mentioned that my surgery was incomplete, and I needed to heal. As we arrive at the hospital, my drugs are wearing off, and I notice how unsanitary and contaminated the hospital beds are. The walls are dirty, floors covered in stained rags, there is exposed metal, wires, and crawl spaces throughout the hospital. Paternity and medical background checks for both men, they are more than agreeable.
Instruments were still inside me, and I could feel a hunk of metal inside my pelvis. I search the hospital for my surgeon in an attempt to complete the procedure and remove the re-tractors that are holding my remaining organs in place. A man approaches me in the hospital, and I could sense he was a sinister and wicked man. He attempted to sexually assault me, but instead of fighting him, I spoke to him calmly. I told him that he could try to rape me, but I had no female organs so I was not really a woman. I was just a shell of a woman, and I could potentially die from internal bleeding. It wouldn't be very appetizing, I suggested.
He seemed hesitant, as if he was disgusted by me. I took advantage of his indecision, and attacked him while he had his guard down. I gouged his left eye with my thumbs, then his right, then struck him repeatedly before ripping the left optic nerve from his eye socket, and squished it around in my hand. I felt delightful pleasure at the prospect of doing it again. "This will be fun. Again!" He writhed in pain from the shock and expired slowly. I stood there for a long time contemplating what else I could potentially do. I didn't have time, I had to find the surgeon, complete the surgery, and get back to the pressing issues in my life. I had two men in a heated battle over me and the newborn. Who would win? I did not care in the least, and I remained un-invested.

Vigilante

Today I felt inspired by a martial arts gi and started a pair of straight-leg yoga pants. I used to wear a lot of low-rise, straight/flared pants, and I remember they looked pretty flattering. I'm experimenting with comfortable patterns for blouses and pants that are casual yet active.
I've been having really weird dreams lately, and typically I'm really good at recording them immediately or blogging them. This past week, however, I've been having textbook issues that kept me running around on top of classes, festivals, service, and the family. There's one dream in particular that I wanted to share because it was so strange and played like an opium-induced hallucination. It started at my son's school during morning drop off.
For some reason, the iron gates surrounding the campus were gone, so it was completely vulnerable to intruders. While heading out the front door, I noticed a suspicious man circling around in his car. Intuitively, I shut and locked the doors while escorting the children into a back room. I informed the principal that there was a strange man outside and she locked the side door. Meanwhile, some high school students arrived to tour the campus. Many of them were still outside in the park and were trying to make their way back to the bus. I headed outside toward the temple, but the entire park was overgrown with thick brush, bushes, and tall grass. It was hard enough to push through, let alone sprint across to the temple. Suddenly, I heard the loud crunch of leaves nearby; startled, I looked around to see it was a high school student frantically looking around and  trying to find her way back. I reached out to her, gestured her to remain quiet, and held her hand as we made our way out of the brush. I looked around and noticed that many homes around the neighborhood were dilapidated or abandoned, and were now inhabited by vagrants and vagabonds. We tried our best to make our way to safety but were 'spotted' by a blind serial rapist and murderer. He was old and clutched a disgusting rusted, bloody knife. He reached out toward us trying to grab us, but we stood still until he came in closer. The young girl and I made eye contact, nodded in understanding, and accosted the man. He was stronger than he appeared, every muscle in his tall, slender body was conditioned from years of assaulting women and murdering them in the most horrific ways imaginable. Soon more depraved, demoniac companions of his charged and chased after us. We quickly regrouped ourselves and began hacking, slashing, and fighting our way through the lot until there remained only limbs and blood in our wake. I was jolted wake by my alarm at six a.m. just at the height of our excitement. 

Energy. Prana. Chi.

I know it has been a while since I last updated my blog. However, I have two extremely good reasons: I've been busy living, and I've been enjoying it. So there. I'm sorry I haven't made you the center of my universe lately, I'm sorry I haven't told you about every rewarding moment or inspiring situation of my day, but I have to live my life sometimes.
Actually, I take that back. I am unapologetic about my literary absence. If I have neglected you as a personal friend, I'm sure you will be understanding and supportive of my recent activities. If, however, you just read occasionally, then consider it hands-on research for more interesting material yet to come.
Self-defense/martial arts class is wonderful. We're learning to protect ourselves from violent criminals with a smile on our faces. I really enjoy the class, our instructor, and fellow students. I got one of best friends interested, and she's hooked. I met wonderful ladies at the other location today; the change of pace was just what I've been praying for. There are other things I've been doing daily: exercising, yoga, pranayam, meditation, natural beauty treatments, 'healthing', but most of all, I'm looking forward for school to start next week. Life is a graceful flow of one action into another.
This and other things I have learned as of late.
Energy. Prana. Chi. 

At County Jail

I had a couple of weird dreams over the weekend. I'll share one of them with you and note why it's so weird.
In the first dream, I'm travelling on the road with Chandaneswar. This fact alone is extremely notable because we typically travel in a group: Chandaneswar, Purandar/Lokojit, Krishna Chandra, and myself. Weary and exhausted, we find a nice bed and breakfast that an acquaintance recommended to stay in. Also weird because we normally stay in budget hotels, with friends, or at the temple. Temple is ideal because it's with friends and cheap. While there, we find out that the B&B is being run by an old friend; we were delighted that all our food would be vegan. This is the only part of the dream that makes any sense because my friend is a great hostess and manages a restaurant. As I'm contemplating how wonderfully everything was being arranged, I get a phone call from the police department. They inform me that my dad had been arrested for drunk driving, and ask if I would like to bail him out. Note: my dad has been dead for four years now, this county doesn't allow phone calls for some weird reason, and calls your next-of-kin on your behalf. I rushed to the county jail to bail out my dad, also highly unusual behavior because I'm of the school of tough love, a euphemism for 'sit your ass in jail while you sober up'. At county lock-up, I see a lot of people in the office who all claim to know me from childhood. "How strange," I thought, "these people should either be dead, moved far away, or locked up themselves." My dad is released and I take notice of his appearance, he looks very young, thin, and happy. It was his first criminal offense.

Scribe Fail

I wanted to experiment with the lastest tool in Blogger draft, a little something for those of you who have not already done so and others who just like to screw around with people. I wondered if it was anything like what Blogger said it was, staring at a blank screen and not having a clue what to write about. Let Scribe feed your dog (scribe did that). Scribe is alright, if you're super lazy and have no creativity. I went ahead and wrote down a few words that came to mind and let Scribe take over.. as much as possible. These are the results:

• feminists have been very happy with the results of  I'm not sure if it is not a valid stream resource in December. We have a lot of people are not aware of any other person or entity that is not the case for the other two are the same as the one in the same way as the first step in the right direction for the future of the country and the world of the living room and dining room with a view to the sea and from the fact that the two features of four cases this was not the first time for the  first time ever. 

Okay, enough about the subject. Scribe finished that sentence for me, kinda; you have to really push it in the right direction.

• women in the United States and Canada for the first time in the history of the birth of baby Jesus in the first century AD has been held that the action  of the air and shit... scribe runs out of suggestions. 

• food and beverage service and have a good time last night and she was not sure if she was still in school and incorporate the latest features and functionality of the system and the way we do with what you want to be here know how to navigate the new world order. As you can readily see Scribe is great at completing your thoughts.
• text messaging is a new and exciting products on the net and found this site available to, whatever, man, if this was a real scribe, in would have had him beheaded by now.
• stealing shit is fun, I guess I enjoy the adventure of travel of strip-mall locations. Blegh, are you having as much fun as me?
• awkwardness in relationship, it's not alright to come over and call me and think its all water under the bridge because we caught up over the phone a few times and SHIT. If we were cool, I would have said, "We're cool." Do you think you can come  up with a new tool for the job? Because scribe is driving me crazy. 
• positive female role models are necessary in life and are not readily available in all the other countries or in the case of the first class of the day. Wow, this is ridiculous and a waste of time. 
• drama-based training and that's it folks, scribe fell asleep at the wheel. 

 If this was a long-haul trucker, our goods and brains would be splattered all over the interstate by now. Moral of the story: don't let the computer take over. Have fun with your whatever it is that you enjoy.

Bengali Gunda

Last night I had a very heartfelt conversation with a Bengali gangster. No, it was not real, at least not within the tangible world- it was in a dream I had last night about the power of pure Vaishnavs

This gangster and I happened to meet by chance, somehow I was sent to his gang leader's house where we met and began to have small conversation. He began to ask me where I was from and I answered him very carefully (as you would do when encountered by this kind of dangerous personality). That is not to say that he was intimidating or threatening but I tried to answer him and not provoke his anger.

After telling him that I was a born and bred American he inquired further, captivated by confusion, “Why do you say you’re American but you look and act Bengali, even your dress is Bengali. Do you think I’m stupid?” Realising that my new friend was Bengali and knowledgeable of culture and dress, I explained to him the reason I was dressed like a Bengali. “Yes, I am Bengali actually, I’ve adopted Bengali dress and language so that makes me a Bengali.” He asked me to speak in Bengali with him so I obliged. I respectfully addressed him as my brother and inquired how he was doing. He would question, “Why did you say that you are American when you’re obviously a Bengali. How is it that you’ve adopted Bengali traditions fully even taking to the language?” So I explained to him that I was a devotee of Krishna and in the line of the Gaudiya Vaishnav Sampradaya. He simply stared at me blankly as if he had never heard of any of this before, so I asked him “Dada, what? Haven’t you even heard of the Gaudiya Samproday before? Haven’t you heard of the likes of Srila Bhaktivinod Thakur, the main instigator of Lord Caitanya Mahaprabhu’s cult in the west?” He said sadly, “No, I’ve never heard of him before, who is he? Please tell me more about this man.” So I told him that Srila Bhaktivinod Thakur was a great man and a Bengali devotee who wrote many beautiful songs, he is one of our great Acharyas and teachers, still to this day we sing his songs of devotion. They are all in Bengali so many of us have learned the language that way. I began to sing for him to demonstrate the beauty of his writings and the gangster immediately broke down into tears from the power of Srila Bhaktivinod’s words. “How is it possible that such a wonderful personality has written these kind of sad poems? It is obvious that he is a great Vaishnav but he writes that he is fallen and lamenting his life. He says he has wasted his entire lifetime on worthless and fruitless endeavors. If he thinks he’s fallen, what must I be?” He certainly broke down and began to sob like a child, “What a waste, what a waste, I have spent my life looting and murdering, engaging in criminal and sinful activity of all kind. Please help me get out of this sinful life!” Somehow, his gang leader did not object, as he was hearing the entire conversation and he also had tears in his eyes. He told me to feel free to take his follower and come back anytime to speak hari-katha to him. Thus, two gundas were transformed from criminals and sinners of every kind into devotees and all by the words of Srila Bhakivinod Thakur. It goes to show how powerful one pure devotee of the Lord is even in the midst of the most fallen.