Adieu to the Magical School ©

The following entry is based on a dream which occurred the evening of Monday, November 11, 2013 and is the sequel to my previous entry (The High Priestess and the Rite of the Sash).
    
    The time arrived for my group to head over into the hall of darkness in order to discuss an ongoing issue that was affecting our organization in its entirety. I hurried along with the others while taking care to take along staff. We entered the hall with reverence by keeping quiet. We wondered what it was we needed to do next, as we stood there feeling as though it was necessary for us to fight against something. The question was: who or what was the something we needed that we needed to stand up to? I headed off towards a short row of chairs placed alongside the wall. A sole window which was floor to ceiling length looked over the mountains. I kneeled then sat, leaning my staff against the rough surface of the stone wall. I closed my eyes in meditation, waiting patiently for instructions to come through on my next course of action. To my surprise, all was silent as there were no instructions. I found this to be peculiar and very different from all the other times I have been in this place. The moment I came to this realization, a voice in my head spoke loudly yet calmly informed me to stay put where I sat and to remain silent, no matter what it was I heard from this point forward.
     After some time, I stood and faced the group ahead of me which faced the front of the hall. I wondered what they were contemplating and saw two large cages which hung drearily by chains from the stone ceiling. The cages were built to hold a number of people at one time, but I questioned why they were here and who brought them? One of the younger women in the group, dressed in a white robe jumped into the cage while encouraging others to do the same because according to her, “this was the only way to find a solution.” I watched as one by one, my colleagues jumped on board into the trap set by the unknown person(s). After all these years together I wondered why no one in the group bothered to ask, why these cages were set up. I could not come to an understanding behind my colleague’s irrational decisions to jump into something whose origin remains a mystery. Once neatly tucked inside the cages, a dark robed man appeared. He seemed to be an elder of which I have never seen around here. He walked by while looking straight at me. I fixated my eyes on his and acknowledged him with a nod. I took care to move aside as he continued to approach the cages. A true air of darkness embodied this elder, but I obeyed the voice which advised me earlier to remain silent and observe. His presence was intimidating to all whom were within his vicinity. He then proceeded to address the hall. He admonished my colleagues for being incapable of understanding why they were summoned to come here to the hall of darkness, furthermore stating they would remain trapped in the cages of ignorance for an eternity. I found his following phrase quite peculiar as he mentioned how “they were worth their weight in gold.” Sadly, the exact measure of gold was extracted from the vaults of the Magical School we attended. When I looked through the large window overlooking the steep mountain sides, an image of our village at the foot of the mountain appeared as if I were watching a reel of film.
     I heard cries from afar as the students realized how the Magical School had officially gone bankrupt. There were no more funds to sustain it, nor could students continue their magical studies. Overall, the scene was grim. One of the high priestesses in our group mentioned how this was bound to happen. Pools of tears formed in her eyes as her disappointments were now made visible. After seeing this revelation, a door opened which afforded me the opportunity to descend a stone stairwell which connected directly to the school’s village below. Students moved about in a chaotic manner and despite the hectic nature of the emotional environment, I located one of my former colleagues whom I absolutely adored. I told him that I loved him and that all will turn out fine, but as I spoke with him, his appearance began to morph from that of a man, to a young man until eventually I was staring directly at a child. He became immature and at the end of it all, I no longer found it viable to effectively communicate with him. Realizing this, I said goodbye and though it hurt so much to do so, I let him go. I saw how he too became caught up in the hysteria of the moment. Meanwhile, I had no other choice left but to walk away with the metallic sash gleaming about my waist. There was no more to accomplish here. All had been taken, greedily. It was time to move on.

The High Priestess and the Rite of the Sash ©

As recalled from a dream the evening of Monday, November 11, 2013.

     I stood in a hall occupied by many women who have undergone a vigorous training program of which in the past I had been awarded the black sash. The procurement of this sash was not without its tribulations and in order to attain the honor of wearing it, one was to pay the ultimate price by demonstrating one’s merit. As I stood there staring at the dreary dark cloth which contrasted with my peach toned inner palm, I heard the name of someone else called forward to receive the same honor. A cold stillness slithered into my chest. Without looking up and any further thought, both she and I drew swords. Within two strikes, my opponent laid on the ground before me. With eyes closed, I could see the crimson of her blood permeating the ground beneath her. I did not feel particularly accomplished with this act, but I knew this was the one sacrifice whereby liberation was attained for both either the survivor or the sacrificed. Making and abiding by oaths taken long ago, we have all come to much understanding the manner, the way, the path of moving forward. No other alternative for surpassing this grade existed. In battle we met, in battle we parted ways. The body on the ground opposite of me was carefully wrapped and removed. Good bye old comrade. With chills still coursing through my body, I prayed to the gods I did not have to repeat this ritual, which others have had to in the past. Only the elders thought determined if this trial would be necessary. A battle won? There was no winning, only moving, and certainly such sacrifice was for naught.

     I looked down only to see I wore a black robe, a color as rich as the midnight of a new moon. The new day was met with a fresh assignment within the temple’s hall. Unlike before, I was charged with handing out degree sashes to new awardees and come to think about it, I could no longer recall my previous job. There was a beautiful tray upon my hands, where neatly folded sashes of varying colors from white, black, deep blue and yellow laid. Each one bore its recipients name. While I distributed white sashes, members in the hall hailed each other with cheer. On occasion, I disseminated a black one, which members acknowledged with reverence. I continued along in my task wondering which sash would be designated to me. And then, without further ado, I remembered the chill in my chest and thought, “Would it be the black one again?” Recipients, upon occasion received it more than once and I thought: “how would I feel about repeating this sacrifice?” I silenced my mind, as there was no point in a matter that was clearly out of my hands. Either I would receive the sash of sacrifice and fight yet again, or I would simply fail. There was nothing else to it. The possibility of receiving a different degree also existed, but I knew there was no point in thinking further about the matter. In either case, the elders have decided on the matter a long while ago. There was nothing else to ponder.
     Next to me stood another one of my companions who shared the same duties as me. On occasion we would glance at one another, wondering what laid ahead for us. The time arrived for her to call my name & present me with the new sash. She looked on her tray but could not locate my name or the sash. She and I exchanged dreaded looks leaving me with only one option on my plate left- to approach one of the high priestesses. I made a quarter turn to the right and proceeded to walk towards one of the high priestesses to ask her if there was a misplaced sash. The Priestess smiled with both her mouth and her eyes as she touched my right hand. She asked me to look through the batch once again. I nodded and walked back to where my companion stood. In unison, we searched amongst the multicolor sashes, hoping to locate the one with my name pinned onto it. Before reaching the end of the lot, I found a silver metallic one with my name pinned on. I was breath taking in beauty and design. However, this sash was made to be worn over the shoulder and across the body. Instead, it was to be worn around the waist. The front center portion contained an unrecognizable embroidered emblem. Beads were sewn around the image and hung from threads which when worn generated soft bell like sounds. The Priestess instructed me to wear it as she explained to me how she had this made especially for me. Her smile brought me such warmth and I began to briefly dance about the hall. When I ceased my dance, the ceremony came to a close and I happily went about my scope of work for that day within the temple.

A Clean Slate

Based on a dream entered into my journal on Sept 9, 2013

     I was asked to take up a unique research assignment. I, along with others was asked which symbols signified death for us. In other words, when we think of death in general, whether the actual physical passing or deity associated, which symbols were most prevalent to us. In order to fully mediate over the subject of death and its’ symbols, our professor suggested a visit to the graveyard where we would sit beside various headstones. We were each to choose a particular headstone, one that felt right, one that would be conducive to this type of work. We walked through the cemetery entrance, while the professor remained outside, watching. No one knew exactly why we had to choose a headstone, but after a considerable amount of time walking and perusing the endless stones and epitaphs, I finally found one that was welcoming. I could see my classmates spread about the cemetery, all of whom have generally settled on their stone. I sat down upon the grass and stared into my lap. I said absolutely nothing and come to think of it, I heard no chatter from my colleagues either. The professor at the cemetery’s gate was preoccupied with his own matters, most of which were administrative in nature. I sat there, wondering exactly how long I would have to go about in this as my eyes rolled up and down, staring one moment at my lap and the next at the headstone. I was not there terribly long. Feeling the grass beneath me, I thought quietly about this project and these supposed symbols, when finally, I saw something stirring within the headstone itself. There was a slight mist over the surface which then disappeared. The engraved epitaph was gone as if the crevices of each letter were filled in. Talk about a clean slate, it could not get any cleaner than this. I saw symbols which flashed upon the surface of the glassy granite. The symbols revealed were the following: a red rose, a bible (sacred book), a cross, various musical instruments, keys, a set of dice, dominoes, a perfectly tall black top hat and of course, a skull.

     I scribbled down each of these symbols as they were presented to me. I knew it was time for me to leave, as the stone no longer portrayed images. I stood up and headed back to the cemetery’s entrance. After our gathering, we walked back together, speaking enthusiastically amongst ourselves about our personal experience. The following day, I was driven to begin writing my findings, while a number of my colleagues teased me about my level of interest to begin my research paper. I ignored them and continued to work through my project until its completion. Sadly, those who teased me were the very people whom continued to put off the writings of their experiences & findings. The professor watched me from time to time as I wrote into my notebook, as I hardly lifted my eyes or pen off the page. After an extensive period of time, I completed my work and soon rejoined the group. In a matter of minutes, my colleagues were already chatting of their next planned venture. I agreed to accompany them just so that I could take my mind off my work for a little. We left only to arrive, at my dismay, to a place I have never encountered before. This place was disordered and filthy. People who resided in this area decided to live a soiled & dirty life. There was a rule prohibiting bathing, yet that rule did not seem to faze them. In fact, they preferred the filth and stench!
     I spotted a water fountain some ways away and felt impelled to jump into it and bath myself. I did so blatantly disregarding the posted rule prohibiting it. I felt the cool & clear water run down over me. It was refreshing. Others looked on and watched me but avoided this water fountain. I motioned to a man about my age and invited him to join me in the water fountain. Apprehension was written across his face, but in an instant, he too joined me and rejoiced at the feeling of the water that washed away the grime that had built upon his skin over a considerate amount of time. We invited others nearby to join us, and to rejoice, but they did not dare to do so out of fear! They were afraid of a sign with an outlandish rule, a law which no one enforced. These people had the opportunity to bath and cleanse themselves, but instead, choose to remain soiled. Was it really this easy to suppress free will?
     Though bathing was prohibited, there was a limited time it was allowed. I watched as these people flocked to the public bathing area. To my complete disbelief, these people bathed themselves in unclean water. I did not comprehend the reasoning for bathing in the murky pools of water, when the option for clean water existed. I watched this absurd spectacle and tried to understand the choice of this society. It was at this moment I arrived at an epiphany. These people chose filth because they refused to come clean. There would never be a clean slate for them unless they chose to will it.
     Having come to this conclusion, I departed the fountain and walked away, leaving this ludicrous scene behind me. Eventually, I came upon a small clean neighborhood. There was an intimate shop located at the corner which seemed peculiar, peculiarly intriguing indeed! I walked inside and was drawn to an area of scrolls. I sifted through various documents and objects on a waist level shelf when an empty space along the wall behind the shelf in front of me a scroll appeared, hanging on a rusted nail. It was fully extended, revealing the image within. The image was that of the high priestess. Beneath her image there was a phrase in script which read: “secrecy in circle.” I smiled and thought, “well that sure is the absolute truth!” I called on the shop owner, an older woman, and inquired about the price of the scroll. She smiled and said, take it, it is yours. As I lifted the image from the nail and rolled it back up again, a unique long necklace appeared in my hands. The shop owner suggested I take it for my use. She did not utter another word about the origins or its’ particular use and I did not feel it necessary to ask. If fact all was secret in circle, then I would find out at my own time. The necklace was long, made of both silver & brass metals, beaded with sky blue stones. The necklace had a large pendant of which the image of the high priestess was engraved. I put the necklace on and held onto my scroll. The shop owner smiled and disappeared. I took that as my cue to leave. I headed out the door and immediately awoke.
  

©2014 by Ana owner of ALDTarot.com

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Encounter with a Magnificent Being ©

The following is an entry from an experience I encountered the evening of December 27, 2013.

     I stood before a tall angel whose dark skin seemed iridescent, as it shimmered with a bronze like glow. He was quite the sight to behold. I could not take my eyes off of him and wondered very much whom he was. What was his name? What was this place? What did he reign? As these question floated in my mind, I noticed the outline of the steel helmet he wore. The helmet was covered in the finest intricate designs, etched by the hands of the unknown. Mounted atop of his helmet was the tip of a very sharp spear. The flesh meeting the edges of his helmet glimmered and soon, my eyes traveled down the bridge of his nose. It was at this precise moment I noticed his perfectly small and pointy nose. It suited his face of perfection. From the tip of his nose my eyes moved left and right to examine the remainder of his rounded face. His lips were petite yet plump. My gaze traveled down the length of his long neck, reaching his shoulders and chest, which were bare. He was muscular and it was at this moment that I felt embarrassed for viewing him through carnal eyes. Realizing my human fault, I continued to observe this creature in a manner that would not be disrespectful, for I was allowed here for a reason, a reason which so far, has not been revealed to me. Looking beyond his shoulders I saws wings tucked behind him. He was a gorgeous dark angel of whom the universe allowed me to view before me. This was a privilege and I sure did not want to behave in a manner that would quickly end my chance for this experience. His wings were not white; they were gradients of dark shades. His feathers shined as they were healthy and strong.

    He was seated at his throne and slowly, I ascended the white and grey marbled steps towards him. Each step brought me higher and within a closer proximity of him. One hand rested on the arm of his throne while the other lay on his left knee. Around both his wrists he wore steel bands, the same metal as his helmet. Approaching the final step, I knew how soon I would stand directly before him. It was at this moment that he admonished me by saying: “how dare you come here!” His voice was elegant yet the sound it made was like thunder. The entire hall rumbled at his statement. I did not know what to answer because I was not exactly sure how it is I made it there. In fact, as I traveled on the astral, by the guidance of the higher power, this was the last place I thought I would end up. It always took me where I needed to be and so I trusted this as my destiny for the evening. I did what I knew best as he waited for my reaction to his voice & my eventual answer. I waited, in silence, contemplating his question and my answer. He watched me patiently, as he knew what I was doing by not answering straight away. His expression softened a bit. I answered him with a question: “which archangel are you?” He smiled and said absolutely nothing. So he was not an archangel and I went through a series of questions off the top of my head just to eliminate the possibilities. He continued to smile and did not answer. Finally, I asked him: “which element do you belong to?”

     It was this question which warranted a certain reaction from him. He smiled widely and outstretched both of his arms towards me. In a moment, my foot moved forward, then the next. Once I was closer to him, he pulled me into his chest and closed his arms around me. I knew that from this moment forward, I was not going anywhere, nor did I care to leave just yet. His wings extended and soon we both elevated up from the throne. He continued to fly upward towards the heavens, away from his hall. He then showed me his state of content to see me. Does he know me? Do I know him? What is going on? These were all questions which began to fade as a feeling of euphoria and ecstasy took over. Electrical currents were exchanged between us and we continued to exchange in this manner for what seemed like a substantial amount of time. This was wonderful-- elation like the one I have never experienced before. I did not want this to end. I did not want to go back. He looked at me, and I, at him. I asked him once again: “who are you?” He did not answer. Instead, he smiled. At that moment, his face morphed and soon a cloak covered his face so that I would no longer see him nor examine his features any longer. It felt like he was attempting to “spook” me in a sense. I told him, “Stop doing that!” Incredibly, he ceased and showed me his face once again. It was nearing the end of my visit, which was marked by his body becoming invisible. Though he was invisible, we flew together in this fashion until slowly, I too began to fade. Once I was completely invisible, I “woke up.” So many questions remained unanswered, yet I am at peace with that.

©2014 by Ana owner of ALDTarot.com

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Spiritualism under Attack

The following entry was a dream I experienced February 09, 2014.


     I was standing outside on the street looking up at a sign of a beautiful building which read: “The Spiritualist Church of Advent.” This church was immense and its’ membership was the envy of other churches & spiritualist organizations. I was invited to attend their services on various occasions. Each time I attended, the service became longer and more complicated. I saw this church adapt many customs of other churches, yet, executed the customs with their own twist based on their own “true & tried” practices. A man walked beside me wearing a beautiful light grey suit with a matching hat. He never spoke a word and opted to communicate his impressions with precise glances & subtle facial expressions. He kept his head down so others would not see him. He dressed exactly like other male members of this church and blended in perfectly, except that his suit was the lightest in color amongst this congregation. After a few visits to this church, I noticed my wardrobe changing only after a relatively short period of time. The church managed to dress me in their fashion and to their liking. Day in and day out I wore a drab navy blue skirted suit along with the same black leather satchel other women carried. From an outside appearance, I had become one of them.
     One evening, at the end of service, he dismissed everyone was except for a select few. I was one of those selected individuals. Interestingly, all visiting persons selected were women, while the majority of selected congregation members were male, with the exception of a few women, whom were outfitted in the same manner as me. The preacher announced to this elite group the beginning of “indoctrination.” I felt confused and everyone was quiet. The man who silently accompanied peeked over at me, and transmitted the necessity for my silence and to watch carefully what was about to take place. The preacher at the pulpit began to speak of the corrupt world and as an example (as well as to my surprise), he pointed to me making declarations of how I would not succeed because I would not confess the workings of my “black magic” and that a “demon” was “inside of me.” He continued on in this fashion for quite a long time. At no point did I ever lower my gaze or head. I stared straight into the faces of those seated around me. Needless to say, I was in utter shock! I could not believe this was the very organization which taught astrology as well as other “metaphysical” topics, which was why I began to attend in the first place!
     The man on the pulpit exalted his church as the only church that could effectively contact the angels and communicate to the higher planes. He also mentioned how the Esmeralda (emerald) tablet was introduced to me and used that fact to gain leverage over the necessity for me to rid myself of the “demon” or else I would not be able to see my past lives. On and on he when with his fear based banter, peculiar statements & contradictions. He pointed to a woman sitting in front of me and demanded her to repeat the vision she had of the demon wolves and how they represented the demons in my life. The entire time she spoke in a very small quiet voice, which trembled with fear towards the pastor. She briefly glanced at me as if to apologize. I felt she was being forced to lie. I noticed her hosiery was worn and battered. She took notice of my observation and tried to hide the worn parts of her clothing. In contrast, the men around the room wore expensive suits made of the fine cloth. The man at the pulpit spoke of my “sinful” life and attempted to bash every part of my being. At one point I began to believe his words and felt a sense of guilt, not knowing what I was guilty of to begin with. I noticed church leaders standing outside, trying to peep in, envious as they wondered how they too could reach this level of achievement.
     At this moment, one of the women who were to be indoctrinated was asked to stand and go to a back room. As she stood, two men grabbed her by each arm and dragged her to the back room. She began to protest and yelled asking why she was being treated this way. The male members sat leisurely together, attentively listening, knowing what was going to happen next. The smell in the air changed and soon, I felt greatly unease, aside from the fact I was used as some sort of “example” for others. I then heard her screaming hard. I was terrified. The two men who dragged her slapped and hit her in ways I could only imagine, but could clearly hear. How was this accepted? Her cries & screams echoed throughout the church. As I looked at the men around me, their faces were cold and stern. They could care less about the beatings this woman received. An older gentleman said he was disappointed in her because other women could take the beatings silently and without putting up a fight. He said how she should just be “quiet” and “follow her calling.” I felt the urge to get up and smack him myself. At this point, one of the men decided to play the sound of horses galloping on a radio, mimicking the sound of the chariot of God. I was irate at their boldness to simulate this sound, as they knew not what the power of experiencing it firsthand meant. By this point, I felt a large warm invisible hand lay across the back of my neck that began to massage my neck in order to calm me. An accompanying voice spoke into my ear and instructed me to “relax.” My anxiety began to slip away and soon this “church” faded into the thin air.

©2014 by Ana owner of ALDTarot.com

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Tribute to the Tower Card: The End and Beginning of a New Era ©

The following entry involves a dream I had of my grandmother exactly 7-days before her eventual passing. I will miss our telephone conversations.


     I sat by myself in a small apartment, a place which did not reflect the home or location of where I currently live. No one home with me and for a brief moment, I felt like a bachelorette. In my right hand I held a green bottle of beer, of which I swigged from as I walked around the living room. It noticed it was time to tidy up because dust began to accumulate faster than usual. It seemed as though I had not dusted in ages actually, and that took me off guard for a bit. Why was I here? Nevertheless, I enjoyed sipping the cool beer. It was unusually sunny out given that it was now winter time and out of curiosity, I looked out the living room window, immediately taking notice of the tropical surroundings outside. I was no longer on U.S. mainland, but rather living on the Island of Puerto Rico.
      I lived in a small downstairs apartment of a two family home. The neighborhood was quiet and the house was merely a few feet away from the house next door. The two houses shared a walkway visible only from the back of the homes. The walkway was closed off to the public in the front of the homes by a tall private gate. No one could look through it as it was made of solid substance. I sat down, situating myself comfortably upon the loveseat when I noticed the face of a woman with not much of a body visibly attached to it walking down the walkway towards my door. She was accompanied by a very tall quiet man. For some reason, I thought him to be her driver and/or escort. I opened the front door and saw the same woman to be my grandmother. Filled with happiness over her surprise visit, I hugged her at the door and asked her to come in. I apologized for not tidying up before her arrival, but she did not seem to mind. She had not yet spoken a single word which I found odd because she was social butterfly. In her hands she held a small tray with a salad of baby spinach and other vegetables that I loved. I took the tray from her and placed it on the coffee table, thanking her for the food as I explained how she did not have to go through the trouble.
     Setting the tray down, I noticed she preferred to stand though I insisted her to do so. She told me she was thrilled to see me. She smiled and laughed but uttered no other words. Looking at her I began my conversation, catching her up on as many things in my life that I could possibly think of at that moment. I cannot remember what I told her, but throughout my discussion, she smiled and laughed in acknowledgement. She was extremely happy and content. It was at that moment that I took note of the alteration of her physical appearance. Her hair was parted and pinned in the manner she preferred, however, her hair was longer and reached her shoulders. The wrinkles on her face had melted away; her eyes were shinny and bright; and she no longer wore glasses. I do not recall my grandmother looking so young in my lifetime. She seemed 30-40 years younger. She stood erectly and without any pain or assistance. She was rejuvenated and strong. At that moment, she came to understand that I was beginning to come to a realization about her. The tall man to her right wore the most elegant black suit, a suit which would make any man envious. He was so tall that his head touched the ceiling. I could not see his face and something kept telling me not to look up into it. As my grandmother looked up at him they exchanged smiles and an unspoken communication. I had the feeling that her visit was accurately timed. I no longer spoke, and held to my moment of silence, waiting for an answer, a reply. What was going on? She hugged me and told me that it was time for her to go. I pleaded for her not to leave because I enjoyed her company and wanted her to stay a while longer. She told me that she had to leave with her escort. The tall man never identified himself, but his presence made me feel relaxed. I hugged her tightly one last time before they both turned around to leave. I waved goodbye at her; she waved back. I watched the two walk back in the direction they came from. I never saw them turn a corner, but instead, their bodies faded away. I stood at my door, at the top of my front steps, hoping I would see my grandmother again. I felt a bit saddened by her quick departure.

     A week later, I received news of my grandmother who had been hospitalized for over a week. She had been brought back to life on a few occasions. I was able to relay my message to her that Saturday night via a relative who watched her. I was told to call early the next morning because she would be able to speak with me on the phone. That phone call did not have the chance to take place. It was relayed to me that my grandmother smiled, laughed and said that she knows how much I loved her. A few days prior to her death, on Dec. 5, 2013, my daily tarot oracle card reading turned up the tarot trump “tower” & the Lenormand image of the scythe. Later on that day, it was announced that Nelson Mandela had passed. Three days later, my grandmother passed in the wee hours of the morning on Dec. 8. 2013. I now realize she was saying farewell to me days prior to her final curtain call.

     I want to personally thank everyone for his or her kind words & thoughts of encouragement. We are all connected; the collective is stronger than the one. When one person suffers, we feel its rippling effect. When one person succeeds, that energy is emanated throughout the whole and thus, we all succeed. Success is measured by how well we can overcome and bounce back; seating ourselves back in the saddle to continue our journey. To my loving grandmother, the strongest woman I have known, thank you. To all of you who have sent your prayers, thank you, I have and continue to feel energy of healing. The circle is open not broken. Success!

©2013 by Ana owner of ALDTarot.com

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The Tarot Hospital

Based on a dream I had earlier this year, on Tuesday, February 19, 2013.

     I dreamed I was in a hospital and a female doctor spoke adamantly with me, suggesting, in a prolonged conversation, the importance of subjecting my body to a battery of severe tests as well as extensive and invasive surgical procedures. Without any piece of factual information, she explained the need to cut me open immediately in order to remove sections of major muscle groups. She regurgitated this speech which gained successful with many others. Her voice was suggestive to the point that it was hypnotizing. A man sat near her in a shadow, his face was not visible. She looked over to him and without a single word, nodded her head in agreement with him. She explained the importance in having my bones purposely broken in order to have them properly set the way “they” liked them to be. She took the time to clarify how my legs would have to be frozen for a good period of time. Though this was a disturbingly jolting conversation to have, and felt impressed as I watched the many people whom have idiotically subjected themselves to these paralyzing procedures.

     This swaying moment was short lived and soon I was filled with sheer rage at the fact that these two individuals expected me to sit there across from them, quietly accepting a fate that would permanently immobilize me. PARALYZE ME! Electricity raced through my limbs, shooting me up from the drab chair I sat in all that day. I could not understand what took me so long to grasp the intent of these two individuals in their so called hospital. Before I knew it, my mouth opened, declaring the doctors as quacks. They were a mockery to all of those whom earned the title “Doctor.” Here this woman spoke and acted under the direction of the faceless man. They disabled the masses, rendering the souls to a state of virtual immobility. The paralyzed ones would now depend on hospital services for the remainder of their lives.
     Disgusted, I turned around and walked out. There was complete silence as my objection was one not forecasted. The stillness soon became interrupted with a riot. No one anticipated someone like me to see through the mask. Walking and standing taller than I ever did before, I felt warmth and energy building up in my legs. The hospital was a complete front, a forgery, a place to render people incapable of making their own choices. I was not going to let this institution deteriorate me. I could not understand why I needed a place to “reset” me in order for tarot to work for me. Why would this place seek to freeze ambitions and dreams of those who sought the knowledge of tarot? These were questions I could not answer. With sheer disgust I walked away, refusing to take any part of that charade.

We all have the power to move away and follow our dreams without the meddling and paralyzing views of others.

©2013 by Ana owner of ALDTarot.com

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