The Haunted Painting

I jostled my partner in a panic and asked him if he heard that. He did, so he got up to investigate. Turns out, the painting had randomly fallen over and caused the crash sound.

The next day, I moved the painting to another area in the craft room, so she wasn’t looking at the doorway.

Fast forward a couple of months to just a few days ago—I am in the craft room doing some yoga. I find myself staring at the eyes of the painting and thinking that she needed some pupils to complete her eyes. At that exact moment, I hear a scratching sound coming from the closet, just beside the painting.

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Crossing Over: Grief to Lucidity

I process painful grief from a recent loss. I wake up screaming twice in one week. I use the process of grieving and nightmares to successfully trigger a lucid dream that brings me a unexpected sense of peace.

“…I am sitting on the floor in the bedroom with my hands under some bed covers. The spirit’s hands come through the covers and grab onto my hands. Its nails sink deep into my knuckles, easily slicing through my skin. I can literally feel this in my dream, and it hurts.
In a super low, super creepy voice, I wake myself up clearly screaming, ‘Take them out!’
I check my phone, and it’s exactly 4:01 a.m. My hands hurt so badly that I can barely move them…”

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Hush, Hush

Shadow work is imminent as the veil is thinning and the moon grows full. More poetry from my shadow…
*Trigger warning*

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Retrograde Reruns

Retrograding motion in the cosmos brings me a nightmare, and I wake up screaming. I process the trauma of losing my loved ones, the great protectors. I commit to holding space for my pain and grief.

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