Sky Building

Let me take a minute to tell you a little about myself. I am a dreamer... well let me use caps, I AM A DREAMER!!!! I am a product of the culture of dreaming, where we believe the dreams are our inner soul messages, Ancestors talking, Guardians Spirits giving us information about our lives. We get clues, information and all types of other things. Guidance and instructions on anything from how to heal yourself to how to build a space craft. Believe it or not, we have had many inventions start in dreams. Beautiful music, lyrics, lesson plans, operation techniques, and even Children's story books.

The image above is from a search I made using google after a dream I had about a whole building that floated in the sky. The one I dreamed of was very similar in shape to this one. I am still trying to decode the trucks that fly in the air. They seem to run on a ramp going upward and then take off. Maybe they are the manned space craft that are full of all kinds of materials for the work in space?

Decided to check google to see if the building/station/spaceship/ looming overhead may be a reality. Well it seems it is in the works. Here is a sneak preview of coming attractions. The one in my dream was very similar, except it was up right, vertical, instead of horizontal. Amazing!

MANNED CLOUD Cruise Airship, Paris, France

Living in the sky, watching the Earth from above. Rediscovering the marvel of traveling, experiencing contemplation. Exploring the world without trace

Manned Cloud is an alternative project around leisure and travelling in all its form, economic and experimental, still with the idea of lightness, human experience and life scenarios as the guiding principles. The spiral of Archimedes is the driving force of this airship in the form of a whale that glides through the air.

Manned Cloud is a hotel with a capacity of 40 passengers and staffed with 15 persons, that on a 3-day cruise in 170 km/h permits man to explore the world without a trace: to re-experience travelling, timelessness and enhance the consciousness of the beauty of the world - and to experience spectacular and exotic places without being intrusive or exploitative. For me this project sums up a way of thinking that is the stake of tomorrow.

http://www.dezeen.com/2008/01/10/manned-cloud-by-jean-marie-massaud/

Black Curly Hair

Her name is Marquita.

She came to our small town several years ago to attend our small college. One day, on campus, we meet and exchange our names and other pleasantries.

Marquita is beautiful. She is small, petite, just about 5'3". I am a giant standing next to her at 6'3". 

The moment our eyes met, I wanted to hold her in my arms and protect her from all harm, any harm, anything at all that would hurt her in anyway. I was very gentle with her and through our ensuing conversations over the next several months, we acknowledged that there was a mutual attraction.

She did very well in school. As for myself, I barely graduated high school, but that didn't seem to bother her in any way. Her gentle loving spirit, never debased me or put me down.

Our town has got to be one of the most smallest towns in the world. We are proud of our coal industry and our one campus, our one College. Interestingly enough, people from all over the world attend this college in the middle of nowhere. They make lasting friendships that lead far beyond the college setting. Many of them make friends with the locals at the stores, supermarkets, movie theaters and barbershops and of course at the sports games.

Over the next several months after meeting Marquita I seemed to be so distracted that I barely was able to pay attention to my own affairs. My affairs definitely required that I pay attention to them, or else I would suffer financially. My mother lived across town with my younger siblings and she was very dependent on me taking care of my financial affairs so as to help her provide for the family. She didn't know exactly what I did, in fact, I did not tell her for a reason. I also did not tell Marquita. I took care of my financial affairs in a black curly wig. It was deep black and shiny and I always kept it in my pocket or very close by, concealed.

I never told Marquita about the wig. We had gotten married and she decided to settle down in our little town. It was an honor to have her in our midst as she was so beautiful, gentle and caring that everyone loved her and loved to be in her presence.

One day the authorities came to the door. We lived in a split level home, all rooms on one floor. The children are increasing in number and they are very active and very, very noisy. But I didn't mind because I knew they were having fun. Marquita would often attempt to quiet them down particularly if I was asleep during the daylight hours. Sometimes my financial affairs would have me out or up all night. I never told Marquita what I was doing financially. We didn't live with all the modern conveniences but we always had enough and everyone was content.

This day was a surprise to her, as she had never had to be questioned by the authorities. In fact, they all knew her well and were quite pleasant.

They asked; "Is your husband at home?"

"Yes" she responded, "but he is in the back room sleeping. He worked all night. Do you want me to wake him?"

"No, we just want to ask you a question. We have been doing some investigations on some incidences that have been happening in the community and we wondered had you heard of any of this?"

She responds: "No, I haven't. I am pretty busy, taking care of my husband, my home and my children. Is there something I should know about these incidences?"

"Well, we want to ask you if your husband has black curly hair?"

This brought on laughter so loud I could hear her in the back room.

"Black curly hair?? My husband is bald. He's been bald since the day we met on campus years ago."

"Okay, ma'am don't worry, we just were curious if he may have black curly hair."

To this she laughed again and then the children started dancing around her laughing to and saying, "Daddy is bald, daddy is bald" in a sing song tone.

"Okay ma'am, we are looking for a tall African American man who has black curly hair. We have initiated surveillance cameras at some of our stores and gas stations and it seems this man is in the videos we analyze."

"Well that surely ain't my husband. He probably wishes he had black curly hair!!!" She is laughing almost uncontrollably by now.

I become a bit tense. Hearing that they have surveillance cameras where I take care of my financial affairs, was a bit unsettling. While I do wear my black curly wig, I also wear a hat that covers my eyes.

The men leave and she comes to the back room where I am no longer sleeping but had been listening intently to the exchange.

"Did you hear that? They asked if you had black curly hair!" She is still quite tickled by the idea. Not noticing my tenseness or nervousness she goes back to care for the children and start dinner.

More years pass, and no more knocks at the door. We are now at four children, 3 girls and one boy. Nicely apart in age, they range from 10 to 2 years of age. I love my children, I love my wife, I love my family and I still take care of my mother whenever she needs me, as her requests have lessoned because the siblings have grown up and are on their own. My focus is totally family, and I believe, I am the best father any child could have. My children love me, my wife loves me, my family loves me. And I am still the main source of income for my family. We are not doing well but we don't do without, and the love we share keeps us most content.

Then it happened. Quite unexpectedly it happened. I was not prepared in any way for this or the consequences of what happened that day.

This time the authorities broke into my house, and into the back room where I slept. I didn't know what to say, I was so shocked. They seemed to lie in wait for me to return home. Stealthily, they were in my room looking and waiting till I got back there. When I got back there they literally pounced on me, searching me and taking everything out of my pockets. They found the curly black hair. The wig I wore while taking care of my financial affairs. They had followed me home. I was in a state of panic, I had never ever told Marquita about the nature of my financial affairs, she did not need to know.

It all happened so quickly I can barely remember the details. Marquita was outraged that anyone would burst into our home in the manner in which they did.

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that your husband has been involved in a series of crimes, from robbery, to drug selling and we are here to arrest him."

Marquita's knees buckled under her, "Arrest him? What did he do? How do you know it was him?"

"Ma'am, we have been watching your husband for some time, and didn't get a serious lead till today. So, we followed him home. We needed to do this in order to determine if he had black curly hair."

"I would laugh at you, if this wasn't so horrifying. I told you before, my husband is bald!"

"Well, Ma'am, we have evidence that he has been wearing a wig, and through this string of crimes he has hidden his identity. Today, we got another report of seeing a tall African American man with curly black hair. When we heard this report we went to the gas station just in time to see him leave. We followed him here to this residence, Ma'am. If your husband is bald, then he must be wearing a wig or some type of hairpiece, ma'am. Sorry about that, but we have to arrest him."

It was as if they were asking her permission to arrest me. She looked at me in total disbelief and then her face changed to stone. She grabbed each of the children and walked out of the door. I never saw her again, and I have no idea where she is. She only took herself and the 4 children, no luggage, no furniture, no nothing. She simply walked out of the door.

Maybe she went to a friend's house, I will never know. Maybe she came back to get some belongings, I will never know. It's been ten years and I have not seen her, or my children since that moment. I can still see her little shapely body, walking away from me. She was beautiful and even after all those children she kept her beautiful figure.

The room froze over in that moment.

Her heart froze over in that moment

My tears of regret flowed like a river in that moment.

But there was no reprise, no turning back and no hope for reconciliation. Her trust was destroyed, broken into tiny irreparable pieces and she was gone, forever.

It's been ten years and I remember that day as if it just happened. They kept me in the county jail for several weeks, then released me to a community service program, where I could not have any contact with anyone I knew before I was incarcerated. Small towns have their ways, and they do somehow look out for their own, even if one of their own is a Tall African American Man with a curly black wig.

The Timeless Affair

The Spanish American War took so many of our men away. We were not certain if they would ever return home. In fact, the idea was rarely spoken of as that may have lessened the bravery of our loyal soldiers. They were fighting for a cause, a cause that seemed so far removed from their every day life, yet so insurmountable that none but the totally cowardice would question the need to go off to a foreign land to fight an unknown enemy.

My husband, Señor Miguel  was very, very dedicated to his country and its cause. It seemed to be a strong influence in all that he did and in the military he had achieved high honors. He was well respected and clearly one of the strongest men in the Spanish Infantry. Though he had long since declined from active fighting his influence was felt far and wide and as a result had gain much wealth. As his wife, it was tradition that I should carry myself with the utmost modesty. This required that I never travel alone and much of the time was spent behind the closed doors of our villa.

When it became apparent that I should travel to take care of the business of our estate, our horse trainer, Alejandro would carry me in a black carriage with covered windows to my destination. Our Coachman and horse trainer, remained with us for many, many years. He came to us during his youthful days and remained till my death. His gracious and respectful manner gave him a prestigious position among our servants. He became quite adept at handling the horses and was often sought after by others to teach and train their Coachmen and horsemen.

Señor Miguel was quite fond of him and often confided many of his worries to him. There were times when it seemed there was no place for me between them, they shared the deepest male bonding that no women could interfere with. Settled in my role as woman of the house and wife of an esteemed soldier, little was needed to bring any other recognition.

Unfortunately, the loneliness and barrenness left me quite often speaking with servants and seeking their comfort as the years ebbed on. Then the day came, when Señor Miguel was called away. The Spanish American War had become the greatest threat to the Spanish Empire, and while he was much older than many of the other fighters, he insisted that he be enlisted to go and fight for his country and her territories. There was no discussion, nor had there ever been. He left and after nearly 5 months he returned home. But, to my dismay he was terribly injured. He had suffered a gruesome wound that left him paralyzed from the waist down. A tall, strong, tawny skinned man had become weakened to his core. His attitude changed abruptly. He was totally unrecognizable and remained that way till his death, 10 years later.

In fact, he had become unbearably mean, caustic, angry and incensed. The slightest thing that went awry would send him into a severe frenzy of throwing things and screaming with a deafening shrill. A great man had become a broken man. His wealth meant nothing, in fact, the losses for Spain were so insurmountable, that it sent the whole country into economic chaos. While this war was short, many of the Spanish territories in the west had been lost to the Americans. The shame and disgrace was unbearable for many, and some went so far as to commit suicide. Who could bare this shame.

Señor Miguel, totally committed to the Spanish Monarchy could see no way for himself, his family or his possessions. He constantly moaned, grieved and feared that one day, he would be presented with the document stating that all his possessions had to be turned over to the government. That day never came, but it was the dark ominous fear that clouded the entire villa. Many of our servants were released from service as we could no longer afford to keep them in our employ. But Alejandro, he refused to leave the side of his beloved Master. And there he stayed.

With Señor Miguel being incapacitated it required that I travel even more often. There was still plenty of business to take care of though our resources had depleted sizably. Alejandro was there, and willing and ready to take me wherever was necessary. Our stables had decreased quite noticeably, many of the horses sold. The grounds of the villa were left unattended for many days and lost their pristine beauty over the ensuing 10 years of our financial decline. Nevertheless, Alejandro, in his loyal and respectful manner, continued on with us.

I looked forward to the ride to town. The countryside was quite breathtaking and the rhythmic sound of the horses hoofs offered a calmness, a peace, a distraction from what was going on at home. Alejandro would gently and respectfully lift me in and out of the carriage. His tall stature and stark handsome features could not go unnoticed. Truly, he was the carnal desire of any young woman who laid eyes upon him. He dared not return their gaze keeping himself and his loyalty in perspective.

Today, things change, for all three of us, me, Señor Miguel and Alejandro. While purchasing some needed items from the village store my eyes meet another in a tight and unmovable gaze. A gentleman of a social stature I had not seen in many, many years. It had been believed that our countrymen had lost so much of their wealth they were barely above being peasants. But this gentleman was dressed in the finest apparel, carrying a walking stick engraved from elephant's tusks. Smooth and shining, I wondered why he did not send one of his servants into the market to gather up what he needed.

"Mi Señora", he says as he tips his hat towards me. He is dressed in an all black riding suit. His strong legs were visible through the tight leggings and his boots shone like he had never mounted a single stallion.
"Greetings", I shyly respond hoping he had not noticed that I had taken in his whole figure. And that figure moved me, and cause a stirring in my feminine area I had not felt since the day of my marriage. How is this possible? He is a perfect stranger, yet I am feeling myself moving on the inside and swaying on the outside. I lower my gaze as to avoid any other conversation that would draw me into his eyes and pull me away from my errand.

"What a beautiful day we are having and how much more beautiful it is that you have graced it,  Mi Señora. May I inquire, what name may you be called by?" And he reaches his hand out to take mine. 

Instinctively I give him my hand and respond, "Isabella".
"Ah, and the name of our great Queen, you my dear, bring even more beauty to that name and that legacy." He kisses the back of my gloved covered hand. This kiss sent heat through my entire body. I could feel his breath through my glove and though only for a minute it seemed an eternity.
"Thank you, Señor." I respond.
And to be polite, I ask, "And what might be the name you are called?"
"Hmmmm, you are interested in knowing my name? How shall I suggest this to you? Oh, I know, I will tell you my name upon our next meeting." He gingerly releases my hand, and turns to leave the market.

I stand in the market, wondering what just happened. Who was he, and why did he make me feel that way? It would have been totally inappropriate for me to inquire of the shop-keeper, so I finished purchasing and left the market. I boarded the carriage, and rode home, quietly distracted by this encounter. The hoofs of the horses gave me not the solace of earlier times. I could barely hear them, as my heart was now beating louder than their struts. Next meeting? How is that possible? When could that be? And if so, how would he have arranged that he would see me again. My mind is racing and I am totally uncomfortable in the carriage. I am anxious to get out and settle myself with some warm tea.

As we near the villa, Señor Miguel is screaming again. My heart breaks for him, for he is chair bound and can barely do much of anything for  himself any more, maybe I was away too long. I hurry to attend to him.

For ten nights and ten days, I am pacing, back and forth, getting up in the middle of the night because I can not sleep. Sitting on the terrace outside of my bedroom looking at the stars and wondering, when will I see him again?

It's time to go back to the market. This time I am traveling there full of anticipation. I no longer hear the hoofs of my carriage steeds but the beating of my heart. I am filled with excitement, will I see him again?

As I leave the carriage, I hear a voice call out to me!

"Señora Isabella, you have arrived! Have you any idea how long I have awaited your arrival? Of course not, what would you think that I should wait for you for 10 days to return to the market."

His words wash over me like a cool summer rain. I smile and lower my gaze and enter the market. I can see a peripheral view of him, he is mounted on the most beautiful black stallion. And again, the leggings outline the contour of his strong, powerful calves. I am awkward and flustered. I am embarrassed and extremely exposed. I hide under my hat and enter the market. He quickly dismounts and comes directly into the market after me, pushing pass Alejandro who has always accompanied me into the market to carry my purchases. But this day, this stranger interrupts.

"How are you today,  Mi Señora?" He asks.
"I am well, and how are you?" I respond politely.
"I am better than I have been over the past ten days. I have awaited your arrival. Why did you make me wait so long?"
"My kind Señor, I had no intention of making you wait. It is customary that I come to the market when the need arises. There was no need until this day, and as you can see, I am here to take care of that." I didn't mean to sound curt or impolite, but I am having much difficulty with this stranger who speaks to me as if he has known me for many, many years.
"No problem,  Mi Señora, I am sure you have your responsibilities and since I had not ask that you make meeting me again as one of them, I am certain that you had no idea I wanted to see you again." He responds confidently. "And" he says as he takes my hand and kisses it, "Did I not say, that I would tell you my name when we met again?"

The heat is moving through my body, like before, and I am more than ready to run out of the market and seek shelter in my carriage. I can suggest that Alejandro carry on, I can pretend I am not feeling well, or am faint. Yes, that would be perfect.

"Mi Señora, have you gotten lost in your thoughts of running away from me? Have you gotten a plan on how you will do that in such a way that it would be barely noticeable by me? Do you think that your flight will stop the movement in your soul? Besides, you cannot depart until I come with the promise. Surely a gentleman such as myself should make good on a promise made to such a lovely Señora as yourself. Um, Señora Isabella??? Ah yes, of course, I would call you no other name.."

He is holding my hand, gently, not forcefully, but it feels as though I cannot release my hand from him. His kiss on my hand seems to linger for much much more than a few seconds. As he raises his head he catches my eyes in a powerful stare and speaks smoothly, "My name is Martin, Martin del Castillo. You've heard of me, yes?"

I nod, knowingly, of course I had, who hadn't. One of the biggest land owners in all of Spain. In fact he owned the Castle only a few miles away from our villa. But I had never seen him, so I had no idea of what he may look like. And if he is Martin del Castillo, then why was he not accompanied by his driver and servants, but escorting himself to the market like a common man?

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Señor Martin. I do hope you have a good day. I must attend to my errand. Thank you." I respond abruptly as if some very impolite monster had come over me, something that wanted to kill this moment, hoping it would be so dead it could never be revived again. How is it that this man has been waiting for me to return to market for 10 days??

"I have just returned from Africa. There is much there to do and many holdings to take care of. The trading was quite lucrative but sometimes I like to come to a small market with familiar people and familiar faces, so that is why I am here. When I saw you ten days ago, I knew I wanted to see you again, so I inquired about you. It seems you tend to arrive here every ten days or so. I sent a messenger to determine if that were true and found it to be so. Now, have I answered all your questions?"

The arrogance and confidence in his voice was almost annoying. I felt betrayed, for the only one who would know my travels was Alejandro, why would he reveal that to this perfect stranger? Ah yes, I can only imagine there was some bribe of some sort, maybe another horse for the stables?? I will ask him as soon as we return home, but now I am glaring accusingly at Alejandro. He smiles and looks away, knowing that he has been revealed. Surely it was harmless, as far as he is concerned. Not for me!! I am racing between fury and exhilaration. What if I returned here and he was not here to meet me and tell me his name.

Thereafter, every ten days we arrive at the Market and Señor Martin is there. He does the exact same thing every time. He waits mounted on his steed till our arrival. When we arrive he comes over to the carriage, helps me out, kisses my hand and guides me into the market. And during the days in between, I toss and turn and frantically wonder why my body is on fire with a longing I had never felt before.

Today, it changes. Today, he invites us to his Castle for some tea and a light dinner. I quickly refuse, as I shudder out, "Oh no, that would be most unacceptable. We cannot tarry long. I must return home quickly."

"And why?" he asks as if to say, what is there for you at home?   

"Because that is what I must do." I respond with a sudden confidence, that it even shocked me. Then I wonder why I did not mention my husband to him, surely that is the best and most important reason to return home quickly.

"Hmmm, you seem a bit more anxious to get away from me, than to get home. Am I reading this correctly? Surely you have to be a little curious about where I live?"

"No, I am not curious about you, or where you live. Thank you." And I turn and quickly walk away. I am being rude, I am being obstinate, but how did he know my innermost desire, my innermost fantasy, my deepest secret? Yes I wondered where he lived, yes, I wanted to go there, and yes I wanted him to hold me in his arms. I shake my head in shame. This cannot be happening, nor should it be.

"Why should you be ashamed? You have done nothing, absolutely nothing to be ashamed of." He responds as if he read my thoughts as soon as they passed through my mind, and how is that? I feel exposed, naked.

"Alejandro, I do believe it is time for us to leave."
" Mi Señora, we have not gotten all of our purchases."
"Don't bother me with that, let's go, now!!!"

Alejandro, follows my orders, as he has always done, and we return to the carriage. We ride off. I can feel his eyes piercing my soul and I don't like that!! I decide to go back on the 11th day. He will not have me so predictable. I shall not be under his spell, his gaze and his mind reading.

On the 11th day, I give some weak excuse as to why I missed day ten, and return to the market. When we arrive I do not see him, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I dispatch from the carriage with Alejandro at my side and walk up the steps to the market door. The curtains are drawn and that's unusual, it is as if the market is closed today. I reach for the door and it opens and there he is, standing there, smiling brilliantly and hypnotically. I am flabbergasted, how did he know? Why is he so insistent? It feels so uncomfortable, I feel so awkward. I just brush past him and walk over to the counter to make my purchase.

"Today is a beautiful day,  Mi Señora, and you have made it even more beautiful. Tell me, is this the day that you will come to have tea and a light dinner with me at my Castle?? Yes, oh please say yes. You will be most pleased there and so will we. To have you as a guest would be a great honor. None that I have had in such a very, very long time. Please, Mi Señora, do not refuse me. I have waited 11 days for your return." With this he takes my hand and kisses it, but he doesn't let it go. He doesn't let me go. I cannot refuse.

Every 10 days, we go to the Castle. The time spent there becomes longer and longer. One day, Señor Martin sends Alejandro back to our villa, and promises to have one of his Coachmen carry me back. He gives Alejandro so many bribes, that he can barely refuse. Somehow, Alejandro manages to get back without Señor Miguel noticing that I am not with him.

I am carried home every ten days, but only after Señor Martin ravishes me. I am weak and unable to resist him. He is strong and powerful in his intent towards me. I felt it from the first day, and now, as I lie beside him in his bed, I am too sure that I have fallen in love with this wondrous experience. My journeys home become later and later. I must tell him that I am married.

Today is the day, I tell him, and he responds, "Do you think I did not know that?"

"But you never asked, so I assumed you must have thought I was not married."

"My dear Señora Isabella, I am not a commoner. I am well aware of the appropriate manners a man should have with a woman. To ask if you are married would mean that I am aware that you are married and that, my dear would put me in violation. Therefore, I did not ask. You see? Now, I ask you, do you love me?"

"Of course I do!" I respond before I could think about it.
"Then if that is true, you must leave your husband and come live with me." He demanded.

This response shocks me. Leave my husband? Surely he knows that I am being unfaithful to our marriage vows. Upon my return home my husband never ever asked. He seemed resolve to let it happen. We never discussed my late arrivals. Alejandro continued to come home without me, and I continued to arrive home in one of Señor Martin's carriages. Surely he knows, but to leave him??? How could I do such a thing, knowing that he is an invalid and cannot care for himself?

I respond, "Señor Martin, that is totally out of the question. Unthinkable. I cannot leave him, he needs me. I am dedicated to him. I cannot leave him alone. I am all he has in this entire world."

"Good excuses but not valid ones. You would rather be with someone who can do nothing for you, than be with me, who can offer you more than you could ever desire?? We have great passion do we not?"

"Yes." I respond, "Of course we do."

"Then what more could you possibly want? If you wish, I can arrange for a caretaker for him. Since he cannot do anything for himself, he needs a caretaker. I can arrange that, and then you can be free to come and live with me. Please do not make me wait for ever, or until he dies. He may never die!! He may not ever allow you to leave him. I will live, alone till you return to me. Do you hear me? That is my promise to you. I will live alone until that day when you return to me for ever. You think it over."

Of all the times we had our exchanges, I never saw this vulnerable side of him. He had let his guard down and told me clearly that he would not marry another but wait for me or be lonely his whole life. What could I do with that information? What could I say?

This time when I returned home, I told my husband that I was having a personal engagement with Señor Martin. Señor Miguel nods as if he knew and looks down at his lifeless legs and says, "My dear, I cannot fulfill you, I cannot do anything for you or even myself. Therefore, though I know that you are going to the Castle I cannot stand in your way. I cannot stop you or stand in the way of you receiving what you desire as a woman. Since this is true, I have nothing to say except, please, do not leave me. I can wait for you to return home, but I will surely die if you never do."

I am struck. Unbelievable, he knew the entire time, but never said a single word to me about it. In fact, his whole attitude seemed to become more amenable. He had fewer outburst and was less caustic towards the few servants we had left. We were able to keep a few servants and particularly, Alejandro, and he never questioned him about why he returned without me, though he knew.

Upon my return to the Castle I say to Señor Martin; "Beloved, while I cherish you, my husband needs me. He has agreed to allow me to continue to see you, with no question, but only that I never leave him. Can you understand that? Can you still love me? I am only true to you, there is no other. But my husband would not concede to a caretaker. It is all that I can do. I love you, but I am dedicated to him, my husband."

This day, my Señor Martin is crestfallen.

He holds me tightly in his arms and weeps. How can I deny him? How can I hold on to a loveless lifeless marriage when he had so much more to offer me? He held me through the night. When the dawn came he could barely let me go. He appeared tortured and broken. I did not realize how deep his love for me had been till this moment, watching him in the early morning sunlight.

As usual I was carried home.

We had several visits after this day. Then he received a letter calling him to Africa. He would be gone for at least 30 days. He would contact me immediately upon his arrival back at the Castle.

When that day came, I could barely wait to see him. I dressed up in my finest and asked Alejandro to carry me directly to the Castle. I no longer need the Market as an excuse. When I arrive at the Castle I was met with an unpleasant surprise. Señor Martin did not come to the carriage to retrieve me. He was not waiting in the foyer to receive me.

"Mi Señora, he is upstairs, awaiting your arrival." One of his servants reports to me.

I ran upstairs. He was lying in bed. He did not look well at all. He was sweating and feverish. I rush over to him and hold him in my arms,

"Oh my dear, you are ill, what happened to you? Why are you sick? Oh my God!!"

He speaks to me, barely in a whisper, "My trip to Africa. There is some mosquito there that gives you a terrible sickness. I do believe I have gotten it. This sickness is serious,  Mi Señora, many have died from it. I am having the finest doctors attend to me, but I am not sure if they have a remedy that will keep me alive much longer."

"No, no, no, please don't say these things, please, this cannot be, it cannot happen. I will stay here with you until you get better, I will not leave your side. I promise you, I will never leave you again, never. Please, you must fight this, you must get better!"

With a voice, weakened and barely audible, he says, "Mi Señora, I will do my best, but I am feeling extremely week and I am aching all over my entire body. It is practically unbearable.  I love you, thank you."

 And with that, he rests his head on my bosom as I lie beside him. It doesn't take long, within 30 days he expires.

Now, I am crestfallen.

I have lost the greatest love I have ever had in my entire life, now he lies dead, in my arms. I weep profusely, uncontrollably and for what seemed to be hours. How could this be? Why did they take him away from me? What am I going to do now?? My head aches from crying yet I cannot stop. I refuse to let them remove his body. I hold him for three days…. Each day hoping he would open his eyes, Yet nothing. He is stiff and lifeless and dead!!

After the burial, I call Alejandro to come and carry me home. And as the loyal servant he is, he comes to get me, says very little to me and attends to me. When I enter the house,, Señor Miguelis there sitting where I left him, as if he never moved for the entire time I was at the Castle. He just sat there, waiting. I could barely approach him. I walked swiftly by him and to my room.  There was nothing left in me to give, nothing, I was empty.

The nights turn into days the days into nights, and I am lost in my own misery, grief and sorrow. So lost that I cannot attend to myself, or my husband. I do not come out of my room for 7 weeks. Alejandro brings me hot tea each morning and a few crackers encouraging me to eat something, but I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, I can only stare out of my bedroom window. How could this be? How could I lose such a wonderful opportunity to a miserable choice? How is it that duty, obligation, and dedication brings such a dastardly reward. I have lost my lover and I am left with an ailing husband whom I must care for for the rest of our lives.

I am cursed, I am besmirched, I am denigrated I am castigated, I am dead!!!

Every morning there is a quiet knock on the door and Alejandro brings me tea and crackers. His gentle nature and warmth makes the days easier to bare, but not so much. I cannot rest my thoughts and memories. I am chastising myself for my indiscretions from the very beginning. Had I not ventured out, I would not have even known of Señor Martin, I would not have tasted such passion, I would not be dying in my own skin now.

The days wore on and every morning a gentle knock would come to the door, and Alejandro would bring me a cup of warm tea and crackers.

This morning was different.
"Mi Señora," he says.
"Yes, Alejandro"
"May I come in for a few minutes. I have something I think you should know."
"Yes, what is it."
"Over the past several weeks, I have noticed that Señor Miguel is growing ever so slight and pale. He is barely eating and just sits and stares at the wall. He does not speak, he does not move, he makes no requests and makes no indication that he is even aware that I am present. I am very much concerned about him, Mi Señora. We used to talk and share little stories, but he is eerily quiet of late."

"Alejandro, what shall I do for him? I can barely do anything for myself. I am stricken with grief and sorrow. The only true love I have ever had in my life has left me. What can I give to Miguel, what can I give to anyone?"

"Mi Señora, I do fully understand your grief. When I was a young child I lost both of my parents in a boating accident, remember? That is when Señor Miguel took me in and gave me a place to live and work to do. I wept for days and he gave me joy.  He was like a father and a friend. So I share your sorrow. I only wish that I could bring some of the joy I received to you. I wish that you were able to receive it. I am a young man now, I am quite able to take care of myself, and I am aware of what I am to do as a man. I only wish to be of service to you."

"Alejandro, I am hearing you, but I am not sure about the words I am hearing from you. Are you speaking of being a comfort to Señor Miguel as he has been to you?"

"Yes, Mi Señora, but I also want to be a comfort to you."

"Alejandro, and how do you propose to do that. I am inconsolable at this time. Other than a cup of warm tea and crackers, what else is there that you can do or be, might I ask?"

" Mi Señora, I know that you are in a sad state, full of grief and sorrow. I share your sorrow and I share your pain. But I know that I can help you, if only you would allow me to."

With these words, he moves closer to me. I am standing with my back towards him, staring out of the window. I feel the warmth of his body very close behind me. He places his hands on my shoulders and brings them down towards my hands. He holds them and draws closer to my body. I am completely confused as emotions rush over me. I had never really seen Alejandro as more than a young man and servant. A young man, certainly dedicated to our family, but what is this? I abruptly move away from him and towards the chair I had been occupying for several weeks.

"Alejandro, I think you should leave now. I am not sure what you are doing, or how you propose to comfort me, but I am feeling quite uncomfortable and I am sure that Señor Miguel would not be please with your behavior at all. Please remove yourself. Have a good day."

Before I could finish, he had disappeared. He was gone so swiftly it was as if he knew what I was going to say before I said it. This is simply not the time to give me another emotional upset. My heart has not healed. It is in much need of repair. I cannot entertain any new entanglements.

The next morning, the same quiet knock came to the door. Alejandro brought me warm tea and crackers but he uttered not a single word. Not even a "good morning." I found that strange, strange indeed after his display the day before, but I did not address his impoliteness. I assumed he was feeling somewhat ashamed and so I did not inquire about his conduct that morning.

The ritual continued for several more weeks. I am assuming that Alejandro is taking care of my husband because I could not do it.

One morning, Alejandro speaks.
"Mi Señora, I think you should know something."
"And what might that be, Alejandro?
"Mi Señora, it seems that Señor Miguel has turned to stone. He is not moving at all. I place my hand near his face and felt no breathing. When I touched him, he did not move, at all. I am afraid he may have died in his sleep. I think he may have died in the chair he has been sitting in for weeks. I think he may have died during the night. I ask that you please come from this room and check on him for yourself."

"Alejandro, are you sure of this? Or is this some other maneuver to encourage me to leave my room? Are you certain of this? Or, is this some cruel trick you wish to play?"  I am sounding quite cruel myself, but at this point, I am not thinking clearly and am barely able to find breath in my own body to speak to him.

"No, Mi Señora, I am quite serious. I do not wish to disturb you, but I feel it is very important that you come to see what may have happened to Señor Miguel. Please pardon me if it seems I am appearing careless."

"Alright.  I will come to see. I doubt there will be much that I can do for him. Especially if he is in the state that you have said he is."  My words leave my mouth like sharpened daggers. I cannot believe my own ears as they escape me. Have I lost all sensibility? Has my own grief and sorrow overshadowed any humanity that I may have? Am I merely an empty vessel, bereft of any feeling for anyone other than my own grief and sorrow? Have I lost who I am in a sinking pool of anger and dismay? Am I no longer worthy of the title, Mi Señora?

"Alejandro, I apologize to you for my inappropriate behavior. You have only shown kindness to me, and yet I have been brief, distant and hurtful towards you. I will gather myself and come down to attend to Señor Miguel. Please give me a few moments for that.

"Certainly, I will await your arrival. I will stand by his side until you appear."

I am pacing back and forth, forth and back. Is this true? Has Señor Miguel expired as did Señor Martin? Has Señor Miguel expired while I was selfishly tending to my own needs and forgetting my commitment and dedication to him till we die? Have I become so scared, so damaged that I have lost all sense of what it is that I am to do or be as a wife to a man who allowed me to taste the passion I had never had in my life, simply because he could not? Am I so burdened by my own hurt that I have forgotten how he sacrificed his pride, reputation and well being for my happiness? How could I have been so narrow, so distant, so uncaring? I hurry to his side.

As I descend the stairs, I call to him as I draw closer to where he is sitting in his chair. His back is facing me. I cannot see his face as I approach. He appears motionless.

I call his name, "Señor Miguel, Señor Miguel, please forgive me, I apologize from the deepness of my heart for taking so long to attend to you. Please forgive me, that I have allowed my own sorrow to deter me from being the wife to you that I had promised. Please if you could only understand and forgive me, I will never leave your side again."

He does not stir. As I draw nearer to him a sense of trepidation overwhelms me. It feels like an impending doom. I brush these thoughts out of my head and walk around him and reach to hug him. He is cold as ice. He is very, very motionless. He is not breathing. My fears are realized, he has died, a broken man who lost his wife to another.

"Oh no!!!" I scream loudly… "What has happened to him! Why is he there like that? Alejandro, what did you do to him?"

I am screaming and wailing and screaming and wailing. I sink to my knees in a wrenching puddle on the floor.

"How can this be? Señor Miguel, please, please speak to me, tell me you forgive me, please, I am so, so sorry." I am rippling in tears, sorrow and more and more grief. Another has died, another has left me, am alone again. What's to become of this??

"Mi Señora," Alejandro speaks  in a gentle, soothing voice. "You have no need to bury your life in sorrow and grief. It has all come to pass because it was meant to be. I have taken care of him while you were unable to. He never muttered a word of anger towards you. He never said that you had betrayed him. He only spoke of you with loving words. He believed that you would eventually get better and return to him and care for him again."

"No, Alejandro, no. How can you tell me this? Did you know this the entire time? Or are you still attempting to console me." I can barely say these words, I am sobbing so hard.

He comes over to me and picks me up from the floor. I am too weak to resist. He carries me up the stairs and back to my room. He lays me down on the bed. And then, he lies there beside me, cradling me in his arms as I wept. He gently brushes my hair from my face, and wipes away my tears. He stays with me the entire night, holding me as I sob uncontrollably. I hold onto him with all the energy I have left to hold on to anything. I am deranged. I am unable to do anything but sob and sob. I doze off only briefly and as the memories come back, the sight of my husband sitting there, lifeless, I begin sobbing again.

The next morning, my eyes are bloodshot and swollen. I am not consoled in the least but now I feel a sense of urgency. I must do my duty and prepare for my husband's burial. I scamper to my feet and quickly begin to dress. I am oblivious to Alejandro's presence in the room with me. I bare no shame as I dress in his presence. He gathers himself and leaves the room in an instant.

When I arrive downstairs, he has already removed Señor Miguel's body and has laid him prone across the window seat. Señor Miguel's body seems to have frozen in the seated position. Alejandro could barely bring his legs down parallel to the window seat. The usher has arrived and they are preparing to remove his body and bury him on the grounds. Alejandro had already taken care of the arrangements. There was nothing for me to do. I sink into a chair and stare out of the window. I have been relieved of my duties on many levels. The few servants we now have are taking orders from Alejandro. They are scurrying around and seeking to make sure I am comfortable. They ask me endlessly, if there is anything that they can do to help. I am sullen, still and non-responsive. I am finished.

For several days, after the burial, I sit in Señor Miguel's chair. I gingerly rub the arms of the chair and pray that he has forgiven me. I ask for God to forgive me. I ask God to tell Señor Miguel that I did love him, in my own way, and ask God to tell him, how sorry I am. I beg for his forgiveness as I sit in his chair.

It has become twilight. There is a shadow in the room, but I cannot determine where it came from or how it got there. I turn to accustom my eyes so that I can see more clearly. The light of the full moon is shining through the window. Maybe that is what is casting the shadow. A voice, startles me. I jump out of the chair as it sounds so much like my husband's voice.

"Isabella, Isabella, my dear wife, please do not mourn my taking leave of this world. It was time. There was nothing I could do for you and nothing you could do for me. It is over. Do not mourn. I love you, Isabella."

What? Where is this coming from? I am frightened by the sound of his voice. It sounded strong and clear, a voice from him I had not heard in many, many years. Am I hallucinating? I must be. Or maybe I am dreaming.

"Isabella, do you hear me? Can you hear my voice? Look towards the shadow. Can you see me? I am standing here. I have come to put your soul at ease. I have come to tell you that I am better now and at peace. I have come to tell you that you can move on with your life. I have come to tell you that I am pleased that Alejandro will attend to you for as long as is needed. Be not afraid, Isabella, it is I, Señor Miguel."

I sink back into the chair. The shadow never moved. It stood tall and strong in the light of the full moon, but it never moved. It simply spoke. I cannot describe this experience. I cannot determine if it is real or if I have dreamt it. Can I trust this message? I fall asleep in his chair.

The next morning I awaken. I feel as if a burden has been lifted but I am not certain why. I gather myself and retreat to my room. I freshen up and change and return to the dining area. I have not eaten breakfast in many, many weeks. Our servants are quite gracious, covering their surprise as they serve me my morning meal.

Alejandro appears. He is well dressed and ready for a full day of work.

"Mi Señora, would you care to go into town to the market today? I have the animals fed, brushed and ready to travel if you so desire to take the journey."

I have an incredulous look on my face. Yes, he is still here and he is still taking care of the affairs of our villa. I am wondering how he has come to that position.

"Mi Señora, while you were away in your room, Señor Miguel bequeath to me certain responsibilities. It was as if he knew he would not survive many more days. He has given me full charge of his financial dealings and business affairs. He has asked me to manage his servants and maintain the ground to the best of my ability. He also said that he would turn ownership of the stables over to me, but that I must promise to stay here and be of service to you. Of course that was a great arrangement that I am more than happy to oblige.

So again, would you care to go to the market and make some purchases. It has been quite a while and the shopkeeper has asked for you many times. I am available to take you, if you would just allow me, and tell me when you would care to go. If you do not wish to go today, I understand that and am available to take you whenever you wish. I do remember how much you liked to go to the market, Mi Señora."

This is strange. Alejandro appears to have assumed quite a posture of authority. Yet, there was a hint of kindness and concern in his words. I feel a strong sense of release in my heart. It is as if a huge boulder had been removed and I can breathe again. I smile at Alejandro and invite him to dine with me. He graciously obliges me. After our morning meal, I go for a stroll on the grounds. I had not been out of the house for 8 months. Seasons have changed and the grass is growing very tall and very green. I smile again. It feels almost effortless to smile again. Just when I thought all emotion had left me dead, I begin to feel alive. The sun shines warmly on my face. I raise my hands up to the sky and thank God for another chance. Another chance to be alive, to be human, to be caring and quite possibly to allow love into my heart.

The next day, after our morning meal, I announce that Alejandro can dine with me whenever he so desires. It would be my utmost pleasure to share my meal with him. He smiles and graciously accepts my proposal. At the end of the day I retire to my room. I call Alejandro and announce that I would like to travel to the market tomorrow at noon. Again, he smiles and graciously obliges me.

"Yes, by all means, Mi Señora. It will be with great pleasure that I take you to the market tomorrow. Feel free to purchase whatever you care to. Señor Miguel has made certain that all your needs are addressed in total."

With that he turns and leaves the room. I fall asleep. It is a deep peaceful sleep, like none I have had for several months. I dream of Alejandro.

He is taking me to the market. He helps me into the carriage and as he makes certain I am settled in, our lips brush. His lips are so soft and smooth. I am taken aback as a rush of emotions flow over me. Have I had this feeling all the while?
"Oh, I'm sorry, please excuse me." I say."No apology required. All is well,  Mi Señora." he says, and with that he moves closer to my face as if to give me a real kiss not by accident."Oh, no!  We cannot, we cannot do this right now, Alejandro!""Why not?" He says while he leans over me. I am pushed back by some subtle yet unknown force.
"Why not?" He says again, caressing me near my waist and up towards my breast area.

I am speechless but I automatically respond.  I gently hold him in my arms and caress his back and shoulders. This has to be a dream, however it is causing me to come to a realization about my emotions that I have felt for him a little better. It's a admiration bordering on passion. I remember those feelings in this moment. I would often watch his hands as he would brush the horses. I would follow their magical dance across the horses mane. When he would escort me into the carriage, he was ever so gentle and attentive. He would hold my hand as he should but it seemed to feel different. I dismissed this again and again. When retrieving me from the carriage, our bodies would come dangerously close together. Once he did not take my hand but put his hands upon my waist and lifted me to the ground. Our eyes met, momentarily in an revealing instant. I would find myself fantasizing and wondering what it would be like. But I would immediately feel disturbed that I could think such a thing of this fine, handsome young man. He was our servant and surely it would bring disgrace upon us all if anything should come of this.

As he lies on top of my body in the carriage, I look up and it seems to have grown late rather quickly. Then I notice, it's the shadow of the tree that we are under. With the curtains drawn, I am sure no one can see us. I sigh and give in to the feelings.
"Alejandro, I am a lady. I am your Master's wife. And yet you are caressing me as though I am your lover. Please, tell me, what is going on inside of your head right now?"
He gently sighs, as if awakened up from a pleasant dream. His head is now lying on my bosom.
"What do you want to know, Mi Señora?' he whispers."I want to know what you are feeling right now.""I'm in love with you, Mi Señora."
"But how is that possible? I am an old lady, much older than you. When did you come to that realization?" I respond incredulously."I came to that the first day I left you at Señor Martin's Castle." He responds, matter of factly, as if he finally figured out what it was that he felt and that he was happy and clear, he was in love with Señora Isabella.
"Oh yes, I remember that. Is that when you realized it? Is that what this is all about?"
He just caresses me and says nothing. But his body language spoke volumes, he finally had the chance to be close to me and share his feelings for me, something he had been feeling for a while and now he could just say so.
"Alejandro, it has been a long time for me, and I am feeling feelings I haven't felt in a long time. I am nervous and shaking." My feelings are rushing over me in waves, they are making me nervous and shaky and I feel awkward. How could this be?
"All is well,  Mi Señora, we can love each other.""But I am so much older than you, does that not matter?""Yes, it matters to people in this world, but it doesn't matter to people in my world. We just love whomever we love." He spoke these words like a true poet.

Inside the canopy of my carriage, that was all that mattered. It was real. We feel it. We are in love with each other. What else could possibly matter??
My mind is racing. First, I realize that while I called it an admiration for Alejandro, the admiration had turned to love. Maybe that's what it has been all along. Maybe I felt safer calling it a admiration. Something that is quite understandable. He is a caring, attentive, creative soul. I am certain many, many young women have feelings for him.

I am jolted from my thoughtful journey as his hand brushes past my bosom, I shake my head and tremble a little more. These are unexplored emotions for Alejandro. In my head I am running in all directions at once. Am I dreaming?  Is it just my imagination…?  I'm in two places, maybe three, maybe a hundred places. I am in my carriage and Alejandro is lying on top of me caressing me under the shade of a big tree on a public road somewhere.
"Why does our ages matter, Mi Señora Isabella. Who cares? I do not."
I question everything, what about the other young women who would most assuredly want to have him as their husband.
Someone knocks abruptly on the window of the carriage. We immediately stop and sit upright across from one another. It is the shopkeeper. He is dressed in an overcoat, hat and seems to be carrying an umbrella and something else in his hands.
"Excuse me, Mi Señora, are you in there? I do hope so, I have been awaiting your arrival for several months now."
I wonder if he could see into the carriage. I have a rush of emotions from embarrassment to annoyance, because I wanted to see how far we would go. By this time he is comfortably lying on top of me and I am stroking his back and rubbing his hair. I do not respond right away.

I whisper, " I think you should get out and move the carriage, Alejandro. Please tell the shopkeeper that I will come in soon. Tell him that you were concerned about me since the ordeal I have experienced and you were making sure that I was doing well. Now go, Alejandro!"
"Yes Mi Señora, if you wish I should go, then I will do so." He smiles and steps out of the carriage.
I step out of the carriage with his help, he is holding my hand, and I can feel the fire, the fire of love and passion streaming through his grip. It is making me a bit shaky and awkward. I wonder what it could possibly mean.

This dream was so real, I could barely shake it off for several days afterwards.  I could still feel the weight and the contour of his strong able body atop mine, his breath on my face, the texture of his long black hair,  the loud beating of my heart.

One morning, there is that familiar quiet knock at my door. It is Alejandro.

This morning when he enters my room I am standing near the window, looking out at the morning sunrise. He walks up behind me and as before, he places his hands on my shoulders and brings them down to my hands. He pulls me close to him and I exhale.

His warm breath and soft lips brush the back of my neck. Then he lovingly whispers in my ear. " Mi Señora, I thought you might like to have a bit of warm tea and crackers before we have our morning meal. Would you mind if I join you?"

"No, my dear Alejandro, I would not mind at all. Please join me."

The Florida Water Spray Bottle

I am with my oldest son, Daw'ud aka Nkruma, and we have traveled to the Northeast of the country. I believe we have stayed in this house, similar to a bed & breakfast, for a few days because now we are packing to leave the room we stayed in.

There is a little white boy in this room working on his computer. He is dressed in a simple khaki colored jacket and slacks. His hair is really blond and medium width. He appears to be about 11 or 12 years old.

He takes out a bottle of Florida Water and sprays it into the air where he is sitting.
I turn to him and say, "Wow, you got a spray bottle of Florida water?"

Florida Water in plastic bottle

He looks up and responds, "Yes, but I made the sprayer myself and I put it into the bottle of Florida Water."

 I say, "That's a great idea. I have my Florida Water in a bottle that has a sprayer on it, I just empty the original bottle into it and then I spray it out that way. I usually spray around my bed at night, 3 times, to keep the energies around me while I am sleeping positive. How did you come up with that idea?"

Florida Water-Aerosol

He responds, "Well, I invent things and try them out. It's no big deal."
"Yes it is. Do you realize how many people would love to have that?! You could start your own business selling them and people would buy them. I know a lot of folks in Philadelphia who would love to have that. Just insert the sprayer and there you have it. Can I get your information? I want to email you about this idea and see if we can get you some sales."

He seems a little shy about giving his information. I give him my "Voices Of Africa"business card and tell him to contact me. While I am talking to him, Nkruma comes back into the room from taking a few things to the car. I pick up our ice chest, which is empty by this time, (we have used all that was in it), and hand it to him, while I am telling him about the young man and his invention. Nkruma smiles approvingly and grabs the ice chest and leaves the room. I turn to see if the young man has written his information down for me, I want him to do that because too many times you lose touch with people you meet in your travels, especially if you don't exchange information with them. He seems to have found something to write his information on, and is doing it several times as if to make sure it is well written and legible.

Just then his mother comes into the room. She is dressed in pastel blue colored knee length skirt and a pastel yellow blouse with a pastel beige cardigan over her blouse. A quaint outfit finely matching the quaint little town we are in. When she opened the door, I could hear the voices of several people in the next room. It sounded as if they were having a meeting. The voices quieted as she shut the door behind her.

She begins to scold him about something. It seems she is quite annoyed with him, especially with his time he spends on the computer and the internet. He is a scientist and likes researching and looking into things. She seems to be afraid of it on some levels because she does not appear to be as literate as he is. It is a very small town we are in, and so very few people have access to a personal computer or even the internet. This young man has his own computer, and it's a laptop! It looks like he is attempting to hide what he is doing from his mother. Or feigning that he is not writing his information down for me, but he has several pieces of paper with the information on it. I move closely to him and take the paper quickly while his mother is looking in a different direction. I manage to get two piece of the three pieces of paper he had written on, put it into the pocket of my hoodie and I lean over and whisper, pointing to the third piece of paper I was not able to secret away into my pocket."You might want to discard this one"

I turn to leave the room and as I open the door to go out, she follows behind me and goes into the other room where the voices seem to be coming from and I can hear this conversation that is going on as if I am in there with them. They are talking about this young man who seems to have taken up a relationship with one of the ministers of the town who has fallen ill and is close to dying. The Minister has been bedridden for several weeks and appears to be only a few days away from his last breath. The young man goes in to see him often, and everyone is wondering if this should continue or if they should keep him away from the minister. They believe that the Ministers illness is a result of a negative spirit that they call Archons (Xenu-Thetans) and they go on to speak about this entity in the manner that it is spoken of by Ron Hubbard and his Scientology organization. (I remember reading about it and seeing videos of it on YouTube in waking life.) This little town is in a stir about the young man's relationship with the dying Minister and are deciding how they will put a stop to it as they are fearful that whatever has gotten into the Minister will get into the child. All of this I hear as if telepathically, as I walk just a few feet down the hallway to exit the building.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, but by the time I get to the front room of the building, I see Mantebea lying on the couch. She appears to be sleeping, yet I wonder how she could have fallen asleep that fast after just getting on the couch. She is up under a blanket and seemingly cozy on the couch. I look at her eyes to see if she is awake. The room is dimly lit and it is difficult to see her eyes. I stare a little harder and can make out that she has her eyes ever so slightly opened. I call her name.

"Mantebea, Mantebea!"

"Yes, Nana." she responds.

"How did you get down here so quickly and fall asleep that fast?" I laughingly ask her.

Then her phone rings, she answers, and I can hear the conversation, again telepathically. Someone from the meeting is calling her. The lady appears to be one of the leaders of the group in the meeting down the hall, but she is not in there with them at this time. She is a mentor of Mantebea or maybe a college professor, Mantebea had in the past. She invited Mantebea to come up there and spend some time there at this "retreat" (my dreams are very interesting, they combine waking life and dream life in one story line, so here, while I did not see how or why I am at this place, I am beginning to believe that I am here to be apart of this retreat as well.) Mantebea sits straight up in response to the woman's alarm. Mantebea is clearly not alarmed but the woman is so Mantebea sitting straight up was to get the sleepy out of her head and voice. (In waking life, know this young lady well.)

The telepathic message continues. "It seems the little boy left the room he was in and went to visit the Minister again. This time, he put his hand on the Minister's chest, just above the area where a mysterious glowing mark was. This mark started off small and began to expand on the Minister's chest. As it grew the Minister got sicker and sicker. The mark looked like an infection but it seemed to glow and grow. Not to a large extent but just enough to make the Minister quite ill and now close to death. In the past, the young man would go and sit with the Minister and seemed really concerned about him in a very different manner than the rest of the people. He did not seem to accept the fact that the Minister was on his death bed and did not choose to abandon him as the others had. While everyone was in the meeting, the young man went into the room where the Minister was, which was adjacent to the room where the meeting was taking place; and placed his hands on the Minister's chest. During his other visits, the young man had been spraying the Florida Water around the Minister. But now he was actually touching him. 

The door to the room adjacent to the meeting room opened and out stepped the Minister. A tall full bodied older man dressed in his Minister's black suit and collar. He walked across the room that where the meeting was being held, followed by the young man. Everyone was shocked and amazed and frightened. How could this be??? What did the young man know that they did not know? Where did he get this ability to heal the Minister? The entire room was in an unbelievable uproar! And she wanted Mantebea to go in there right now and see what was going on!"

Mantebea was not perturbed or really interested in following these "orders". She stretched her body out and waved her arms and legs as if to dance gracefully while lying across the couch. She was not really wanting to engage this, but decided to oblige the lady, because she asked her to. Mantebea eventually went to the room, dancing gracefully, taking a really long time, that by the time she got there, everyone had left out following the Minister. They were all in shock, and the only one that seemed to be okay with what had happened, was the Minister, and the young man, who cured him.

Archon (Gr. ἄρχων, pl. ἄρχοντες) is a Greek word that means "ruler" or "lord," frequently used as the title of a specific public office. It is the masculine present participle of the verb stem ἀρχ-, meaning "to rule," derived from the same root as monarch, hierarchy, andanarchy. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archon

I don't Give A F**ck!

"father beats son for calling his mom a bitch"

So the other day a video of a young 16 year old man was circulating around Facebook again. His face was badly mutilated by his father who claims he did it because the young man called his mother a "bitch". If anyone takes the time to read the comments under the video they will see that most folks felt the father had the right to beat the crap out of his son for disrespecting his mother.

When I was growing up, I had a very abusive mother. My three brothers and I bore the brunt of her madness throughout our young lives and even into adulthood. But I would never call my mother a "bitch", actually I would never call another woman "bitch" I would have to be really, really pissed which I don't tend to get.

Anyways, my sentiments about this situation had me quite conflicted, as to whether the father's actions were justified. To me, the responses to this situation showed just how "violent" we as a human species can be, and how we feel right in our "eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth" mentality. Some of the commentators suggested that his father didn't beat him down good enough. Or should I say bad enough. It felt like that whole killing of Osama bin Laden, all over again. Sprinkled throughout the comments was some sensibility, like there had to be a little bit more to this than the news was saying. And the fact that the young man would post his injuries, was that a cry for help?? Who knows.

So, as often happens with me, a dream comes to explore this a little deeper and  help me see maybe another side of this not necessarily being shown openly.

I am in the room with my mother, and two brothers. I do a lot of role playing in my dreams. I am a teenager and my brothers are about 8years old and 10years old. My mother is verbally abusive. She uses the most foul language when speaking to me and my brothers. She ridicules us and calls us all kinds of names. Throughout my young years I would dare not speak any foul word back to her. I was filled with trepidation an fear and could not have the courage to respond to her in any other way than to submit to her.

But this day, she was completely over the top. I did all I could to ignore her or at least play it down. She continued to barrage me with all types of verbal insults. Then in an instant she shifts gears and starts to share something that was extremely personal to her. She is telling me about the plumber and the carpenter who came over to fix something in the house. Her whole demeanor changes into this sultry, feminine widow spider, who could seduce any man she wishes, and then she says boldly; " I could fuck both of them or either of them, if I wanted to. I could pick which one I wanted or just fuck 'em both."

And here is where I snap. "Mom, I don't give a fuck who you fuck!!! I don't want to hear any fuckin thing about your fuckin' games!! Get the hell outa my face with that shit."  And I leave the room.

My brothers stealthily cheer me on. I finally stood up to her and they are smiling on the other side of their face. Then this part of the dream stops.

So I am writing this to express, that at some point in everyone's life we come to a point where we may not use good judgment in our responses to a situation. But if this young man had been abused in anyway, or over a period of time that he just snapped and called his mother a "bitch" it may be more telling than what has been reported.

We don't know what happened in that household, but my dreams helps me to see that judging another's behavior without all the background information might have you in the wrong ballpark as to what is really going on in a situation.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAA_SWJQ5yI