THAT SPRING

For months I've been taking seven drugs and herbs for lifelong fevers--probably Lyme disease and/or babesiosis (Nantucket fever). I worried I was missing dosages or skimping, but today I noticed I'm running out of the bulk herbs right on schedule--it's been 225 days, and I bought a pound each (c. 450) grams--so I really HAVE been taking an average of 2 grams daily just by eyeballing them. Reassuring. And they have been working--for the first time in decades, my symptoms are under control!

JUST BEFORE SLEEP

Insomnia. At last, as I start to drop off to sleep, I ask the giant stuffed tiger on my bed (I'm no good with abstract figures like God. Now a stuffed toy I understand) to send me dreams pointing out old issues I've overlooked. From my early life--or even earlier, if past lives are real. I just have this feeling...

That toy tiger comes through.

THAT NIGHT

I'm a girl again, just like last night. And unlike my day-self.

I befriend a leopard-sized cat. More than befriend; we make love. Over and over. He's hot! People snicker and make jokes, but since he's no tame cat but a huge wild creature, they don't make them too loudly when he's around...

The cat leads me through big dark rooms, like empty dance studios, to a doorway. Sniffs around it, looks at me. I recall asking my stuffed tiger in the waking world to show me early (or even past-life) issues relevant now, so I know my dream leopard's telling me something serious happened here. Sight reveals nothing much. I sniff, but can't scent anything unusual. But I believe the leopard; his senses are sharper.

What happened here?

This isn't our home; too long and deep and dark. The back is lighter, opener, rawer; all one big room with a skylight, full of tools and benches. A woodshop? It's a step down from the front half. A big step, so someone nailed little wood scraps in a row on a board to create a "landing" an inch or two above the floor, to make the riser more normal. But the scraps are on top, and irregular, and have nails sticking out! Terrible footing, and risk of a rusty nail in your soul. Sorry, I meant sole.

So I upend this board and try nailing the little chocks firmly on beneath. Problems: short nails, just 2". They may come loose; the board'll tip. And I worry about my noise--am I bothering the other residents? I'm a guest here.

I slow down as I really notice that loud silence. Pause working and tune in. The old violence centers here! I see it now. Someone stepping through this doorway was shot by a gunman at the front door--down the length of that dark hall, his target was framed in light.

This home's a literal shotgun shack!

The murder made the place unsellable, even unrentable for a while, but it's been mostly forgotten now. But still the crime lingers. For those who sense it.

NEXT MORNING

• I asked if any old or pastlife traumas affected me and here's my answer: yes. But was I killed or did I kill?
• I'm female: last night I was a girl who learned some big ants were probably people; the local (human) farmers denied this and said "how like a girl." So... intuition fighting habitual denial?
• Girl loves big cat, old trauma in unused spaces: I've been reading N.K. Jemison's Kingdom of Gods. In it, Sieh, a small god, favors the form of a big cat; he lived for centuries in the unused cracks of the world's capitol; then he falls for Shahar, a mortal girl of the ruling clan that enslaved him. Even now, post-slavery, Sieh senses all the old-time tortures in the palace. Can't stand to live there.
• Long deep house: I lived in a house like this in the 1980s when I was very ill. Probably warns the trauma impacts my health.
• Old shooting haunts house: literal! My friends Mike & Nic live just up the block; their downstairs flat felt so haunted dark & bloody that for years I wouldn't go down there. Turns out the only could afford the house because other buyers were scared off--the previous homeowner shot himself downstairs, and everyone felt him haunting it! Since I was right about M&N's home, I should trust my sense that some old trauma needs uncovering in my dream-shack.
• Little wood bits and short nails: the Cendancers, centauroid dancers I'm sculpting out of two Barbies each. So far, I shed at least a few drops of my blood building each one. ALWAYS cut, drill or nail myself... Either I'm super clumsy (possible!) or I expiating old trauma by making these sculptures. They're happy, blatantly sexy yet innocent--no sexual angst at all.
• ACTION: go on seeking dreams about old trauma; there is something there, and it's no longer blocked off. But with my leopard lover by my side I can handle it!

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