memoirs_still in my hideaway, ghostly dreams

a WeHo Hills Hideaway with lalaland in the background (wiki image)

Memoirs of an Angel Faery Witch
fictional short story
~*~
the 1st of october is SIX years
i’ve lived here in my WeHo Hills Hideaway

.
it’s been my very own Hotel California
that has affectionately been named Hotel De Longpre 
because “we can check out any time we like,
but we can never leave.”
~*~
last night,
as i approached this sixth anniversary
of living in my treasured sanctuary,
i had another strange “eX sneaking into my building” dream
but this time i was not disconcerted…
.
it started with me coming into my master bedroom
the ceiling over my bed was tearing open a little
and water started raining in lightly on my bed
it seemed odd, not real, perhaps my eyes were deceiving me
.
i left the room
i came back in to see it again.
the ceiling flew away and it was raining down hard on my bed
~ like rain from a hurricane ~
altho the skies above the huge hole in my ceiling
were blue with some white fluffy clouds.
.
then i sensed that my eX
~ or his ghost ~
was somewhere nearby my flat.
i ventured out
and went down the stairwell
into a subterranean utility janitorial room in the building
where he had set up a “camping out” type scenario
because he wanted to be readily available
to “help me” with any problems, should they arise.
.
i was unsure if he caused the storm
and the subsequent raining on my bed
or if he just intuited it would inevitably start happening and
decided to be there to make sure i was okay and
that i would make it through the storm.
.
ts, my awesome perpetual absentee flatmate,
had popped by to say hi,
had come downstairs, saw the situation
and wanted my eX to leave the building
since he hadn’t been “invited” in.
but i asked if i could talk and visit with him first
to see why he was here.
.
ts agreed but was vigilant and concerned.
i went into the little room,
while ts waited in the grimy corridor
dimly lit by a bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.
.
my eX sat up from where he was laying
on an old mattress
next to a big over-stuffed backpack
in the middle of the floor
in a cement walled room
adorned only by a small high window
with burglar bars on it.
.
he looked weary
as tho he’d been physically, and mentally, traveling
a rough, long, hard, and dusty journey.
he had on a dread-lock type hair covering wig
which slipped off to reveal tinfoil on his head
when he looked up at me.
.
his bare torso and arms were covered with interesting black ink tattoos
in a hieroglyphic and iconic style,
with a few words in various languages,
vague names, and a few dates interspersed
between maori & african & celtic motifs.
.
the body art started low on his waist,
wrapping & snaking up & around his chest and back
then splitting and traveling down each of his arms.
he revealed it was “his story” 
and mumbled that the tattooing & the story were not finished ~ yet.
.
he showed me one that was low and near the start of the tattoo odyssey trail,
it said “t.s. hiding a.d.o. away from me” with the date 1 Out ’05.
he seemed to have no hard feelings towards ts or me for doing it.
.
ts decided i was okay
it was time to go
closed the door on me & my eX
in that dismal little room.
.
the room, the bed, the situation
became fuzzy, unreal, liquid, electric, silent
~ a long ago tango ~
we charmed and fascinated,
bewitched and mesmerized,
enchanted and beguiled
each other for a few minutes
then
~ a momento crescendo ~
and we stalled without much fanfare
.
after that my eX stood up
led us out and up to my bedroom
~ to survey the damage, i supposed ~
i followed closely in the shadow of his footsteps.
.
my big restful bed was ruined,
everything else was wind-whipped.
he ineffectually attempted to mop and clean it up
then he tried to organize what was left and not totally broken
from the brief chaos of the ghostly tempest.
.
i watched
i pondered
i blinked my eyes
then i closed my eyes
~*~
i awoke and
felt compelled
to scrawl down
this lucid, yet surreal, dream
thinking
maybe it will make
a semi-intriguing short story
or a thought-provoking dream analysis for an aspiring gestalt psychotherapist.
.*.
much~a.d.o.
30 September
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2 responses to “memoirs_still in my hideaway, ghostly dreams

  1. check out these two ways to interpret the dream of our protagonist Angebel D’Or
    ~*~

    http://eve3.wordpress.com/2007/08/31/dream-interpretation/
    -> Carl Jung taught that the structure of a dream is similar to that of a drama, comprised of four different stages:
    Exposition: The opening scene, which introduces the place, characters, and situation that the dreamer will face–the issue or problem as expressed through metaphor.
    Development: The emergence of the plot.
    Culmination: Something significant occurs, and the main character responds.
    Lysis: The result or solution of the dream’s action. The lysis signifies how the dreamer might deal with the problem or issue that was expressed during the exposition stage. In effect, the work of the dream has produced a solution or result for the dreamer.
    [by a published freelance writer with a Ph.D. in psychology]

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dream_interpretation#Jung
    ->Jung proposed two basic approaches to analyzing dream material: the objective and the subjective. In the objective approach, every person in the dream refers to the person they are: mother is mother, girlfriend is girlfriend, etc. In the subjective approach, every person in the dream represents an aspect of the dreamer. Jung argued that the subjective approach is much more difficult for the dreamer to accept, but that in most good dream-work, the dreamer will come to recognize that the dream characters can represent an unacknowledged aspect of the dreamer. Thus, if the dreamer is being chased by a crazed killer, the dreamer may come eventually to recognize his own homicidal impulses. Gestalt therapists extended the subjective approach, claiming that even the inanimate objects in a dream can represent aspects of the dreamer. [Jung, C.G. (1948) General aspects of dream psychology. In: Dreams. trans., R. Hull. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1974, pp. 23–66]

  2. P.S. the aftermath {by angebel d’or}
    when you banish your forever-ago lost cause soulmate
    you never stop loving them
    you just stop letting it show

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