The Death of a Dream.

Dream – noun
1. a succession of images, thoughts, or emotions passing through the mind during sleep.
2. the sleeping state in which this occurs.
3. an object seen in a dream.
4. an involuntary vision occurring to a person when awake.
5. a vision voluntarily indulged in while awake; daydream; reverie.
6. an aspiration; goal; aim:
7. a wild or vain fancy.
8. something of an unreal beauty, charm, or excellence.

Dreaming has been a part of what makes me who I am. When things were bad in life, I would dream. When things were great in life, I would dream bigger. Some might call it fantasy, but for me it’s dreaming. There are many types of people in the world, and I’m one of the dreamers. Dreaming has the potential for beautiful creations, inspiring others, and the ability to take a person into the darkest depths of despair, at least when the dreaming cannot continue.

My creativity is derived from my dreaming of how things can be, or at least how I believe they should be. Wishing harm to others has never been part of the dreaming, only a strong desire to see people accepting each other, believing in something more than themselves, and hoping that life would find a way to achieve some sense of harmony. Lately the dreams are dying, even the desire to dream has faded.

There once was a family that had a lot of fun together, yes, there were plenty of bad moments; however, overall the family seemed to love and care for each other. That is until one fateful day when things changed. Ever since the bomb of my mother’s marriage to my first cousin (a man not related to her, but younger than my older brother) went off, the family has never been able to find a way to overcome all of the problems that the situation caused. Things progressively moved from bad to horrendous. Now, after multiple attempt of reconciliation, the dream of a family has ended; that is at least for me.

I cannot endure the pain and the trouble of hypocritical people that say they are Christians, yet have no understanding of the principles taught by just the mere acknowledging “I am a Christian” means. There are many reasons I left the Baptist church and tossed Christianity away as some misguided attempt of someone to control the masses and as a plaque upon the world; however, when I see those that proclaim daily, “Thank you, Jesus!,” “Bless God!” and many other such sayings living a life so distant from what their words proclaim. Some may wonder why I appear to be so against a religion that so many believe so strongly about, that is easy, they are blind and when asked to explain what it is they believe they have no real answer, only something that has been taught to them without an understanding of what it is they say they believe in. Besides, only Christianity has actively destroyed cultures, civilizations, and sought to rid of the world of anything that, at least according to their bible, wasn’t correct. Yet, if only they really understood their bible and what it taught, then they would understand they have all been wrong; mainly because they haven’t lived what it teaches.

The time is over for chances to reconcile, now is the time to move forward and let those of the past remain in the past. The name change that was put off for so long is the new dream, as there is no desire to ever be called by the same name of the women who used to be called mother. The new name, one I’ve used legally for years, will now be the only name; the family name forgotten. Now the time for personal healing is to begin with the release of what caused so much pain.

The dream has died, along with so many others associated with it. The death of this dream might just be the death of it all, as there is no desire to keep going, only the desire for it all to end. There isn’t even the desire to try traveling again. It seems that the death of one dream has made the rest of them disappear forever. Even the idea, that anyone other than my father, might benefit from all of the things I have paid for, worked for, or have enjoyed causes such anger that I fear what a Bi-polar depression might bring about. Only the thoughts of how to remove everything from here, even if it means that at some point it all just goes away. I would prefer to see a stranger benefit than anyone of my family.

Some might see the anger and suggest that I resolve it, however, I believe I shall retain the anger, as for now it is what is giving me the strength and encouragement to do the things that are required now. Beginning with determining where I am going to live, that is if I don’t just pack it all in and set off again to travel. For now, only the mourning for a dream, that shouldn’t have been allowed to exist, dies. Something, that perhaps may be the death of everything.

The Place I call HOME

From as far back as I can remember I have always held one place deeply in my heart, the farm that my grandparents owned. It was where I spent my summers and vacations riding my horses; raising my water fowl, chickens and dogs; spent time with my grandmother gardening; and where I always came when I needed to think and recover from the harsh unrealistic world outside.

From the age of 15 I lived here with my grandmother, because my mother married my first cousin on my father's side of the family. After many struggles I left my mother's home and greatly enjoyed living here on the farm. It is very peaceful here, quit, and used to be full of magic; that is until my mother who stole the farm from my grandmother had the property clear cut, which sent the magic away. Over the last 15 years my mother has allowed her husband to destroy the beauty and magic of this place, much to my dismay.

I would have lived here most of my life, however, my mother moved here after stealing it from grandmother and neither grandmother or myself wanted to live here with her and her husband. My mind wonders what my life would have been like if I could have lived here peacefully over the years and what differences there would have been.

Now, while I was in Austin working, my father called me to ask if I knew what my mother was doing. I didn't have any idea, but quickly learned from him that my mother had listed the farm for sale. Yes, I did call her immediately, very angry. Being angry means that you actually love something and have a passion for it. After trying calmly to inquire what she was doing, the anger jumped into full force. From this moment forward I have no mother, as she hasn't been my real mother for over 20 years now, ever since she married "it" - that's what I call him, her husband, because he is a real piece of shit.

Upon my return to Louisiana, I quickly filed a lien against the property and am now filing a lawsuit against her to save the family farm. As I look out my cabin window onto the peaceful waters of the pond, across into the new regrowing forest, I find it impossible to believe that one day another person could own what I see beyond the pond.

Last Friday, when the light of the full moon shown through the darkness of the clouds, at the stroke of midnight, I walked to the black top road where our gravel road begins and cast a protective spell for the family farm. A line from sacred salt was placed across the driveway and to each of the corner posts of the property. While placing the protective salt line I asked the spirits to protect the farm from any person outside of the family from coming onto the property for the purpose of buying it, to save the one place I call home. After this was accomplished I cast another spell to have my mother's husband removed from the property forever.

Over the last few days I have searched my soul to see why I care so much about this place, if I should try to save it (a promise I made to my grandmother), and what I should do - let it all go and move away, stay and fight for it all, or continue to stay here.

The fight begins, and with the writing of these my thoughts, I ask the universe, the spirits, the angels, the faeries, the animals, and the spirits of ancestors past to assist me in protecting the one place I have ever called home.

My mother has always held this place because of selfish motives, not out of a love for the place, she has destroyed it. I know that I can restore the simple splendor of the place, the magic, the beauty, but only if I can gain the deed for the property. My intentions are not to own it myself, but to put the property into a trust, so it will be preserved for future generations to enjoy. Dad and I have been working on ideas of how we can make the farm prosper and pay for itself and one day the property will be protected. The one place I have ever called home will be given to the one person who loves it, who will protect it, who will make it beautiful again.

For now, I struggle with my thoughts and feelings about what I love, and now the mother that I will forever more have nothing to do with, for she has shown her real self, a person I desire no dealings with, except for one - her signing over the property. So good bye to her and her husband and hello to being able to restore and save the place I call home.