In waking I lay with my lucid dreams. I have a dream of people getting along without guns, without shooting each other, without tanks, and without kids being shot, and can you imagine such a land. Where some men are not dragging us to our graves, with bullets, or trying to force us to be something we are not. I do not write about sleep cycles of differing Rem like dream states of Delta or Theta waves. No it is a dream of wanting a World of Peace where many of us live in the Calm, Harmonizing environments, of Honouring Love, whether it is Agape, Eros, or Amour. I have friends that I love, and will always love them,  because they were there when I was. I have never liked being alone, and I dream of days when friendship returns as was one day long ago, and others dream with me and this I know for certain. In my lucid dreams where every action is controlled by me, where I can just dream of “Someday ” but dreamers are for a reason. It is a yearning, a call for humanity to live in Peace, in a biosphere of diverse animals, diverse insects, in an environment called a biosphere that supports us as women, not destroys the spirit on every step. Not an environment where government takes every extra dime calming a limited budget, but you have so many that fill their pockets, and leave us to only dream of Peace.

If you listen to your soul it will tell you what you already know. I am the dreamer of times I want on earth. If I could I would have 80 more years of Peace and Calm. If I could I would be sailing on Lake Havasu,  with a tiki bar covered boat with a Margarita in hand and my favourite guitar player, playing music for me. Not to go to bed with me, but to play the guitar for me, because I love music. A home of such beauty, and sun shining on my shoulders, and beyond there are garden lined streets, and wisteria umbrella covered Pergolas,  where you walk hand in hand, with sweet smells that tell you that Rosa is not far away. Heart gardens, with red and white roses, where under the moon lit night you walk together in sync, and swoon over the moments of treasured life and all it’s wonderful spirit with those embraced and touching feelings inside you that belong to a gratitude for life. Fine table cloths on tables where hot tea and biscuits are served with clotted cream, in an elegant room of Italian glazed tiles that shine with history and tell you of other people who sat in this place in their time, and enjoyed the sweetness of life at it’s best.

I am the becoming……I consider and reflect, quietly claiming this wisdom from my soul, but ironic voices shame, however I ask, is that their goal? It hardens suffering, the repression showing face, so a woman weeps alone, my prayers granting Grace however, alone in my own pleading, it is allowed sensitivities where I whisper, when my spirit speaks while dreaming. Oh yes in sleep too.  I have turned to my inner needs, but I ask for my quiet chamber, where I can sit and heed, trusting my own happiness or unhappiness. Being present to my own deeds, while my pain springs forth, from grounding self control. Trusting my tears I wonder,  but I listen, and these changes encourage foes. Spreading my footpath unclear, and oh my fears I will not dread, but go where life may go.

A woman’s emotions makes clear leading to amends, seeing life in many ways, the rewards are never to end. Owning my own distinctiveness, and when needed by my Nature, I cry out in the Darkness, my struggles being heard. I listen and my soul screams, giving birth to wings. Oh I trust my words of wisdom rather than fear, sleep calls when all in. Wrapped in a quilt in a winter sun, I dream, I scrutinize the stars this night, Time passes till dawn careens. My voice hums, but still I shed tears, hot upon my cheek.  Finding Life, unearthing all that is buried, claiming it, and keeping alive the candle of my being, Embracing all insight. Reflecting outward in an ever widening circle, mirrored and mirrored once more, oh yes…..These ordinary moments unlock my door. Putting in these mini seconds what each holds. Time in the house, time in the gardens; Time to breathe and behold.  Nursing self in rhythms, in a place where stillness lurks. There is centering, presence in my faith, which fills every empty space, and in wholeness, outward and beyond, rooted in Nature, whilst I await of a peaceful place where speaking softly and slowly reveals a coming of a Eden, but for now, my concentric circles, marching to a place of wisdom, a place of where all is serene.

A lucid Dream not reached in 79 years of my life for those around have not but complaints, and my is Carolyn d Hogarth the writer of my own dreams. Not yours. Not anyone elses but mine.