Last week, I changed up my sleeping schedule so that I could encourage astral travel or lucid dreams. I have never been able to control my dreams, which seems more natural to other people.
I started going to bed at 4 or 5 a.m. (which is very easy for me as a theatre person), getting up at 7 a.m. to get my daughter on the school bus, and then going back to bed at 8 a.m. to sleep an extra few hours. I based this sleep schedule on authors who have written on how to induce astral travel, advising about an hour break in the middle of sleep in order to be in an “in between” state when trying to go back to sleep, which is when the astral travel is supposed to be easier.
Frankly, this just made me tired and not prone to purposeful astral travel, but it did encourage some really interesting dreams. Normally, I have 3 to 4 big dreams every night, which I love. But the downside to this new schedule is that by only getting 2 or 3 hours of sleep before getting up (to take care of mom duties), I am waking up in the middle of a dream. I have trouble remembering dreams when that happens, and I feel like I’m really missing out on important information from my Spirit Guides or my subconscious. So this is not a sleep schedule I will continue. I need my 6 hours of sleep in a row, and I need to wake up gradually to remember my dreams, which are usually very expansive and very detailed.
Yet, out of this interrupted sleep trial, I did have one dream that was very powerful and meaningful for me….
I was standing in the living room of my house (not my house in real life, you know how that goes), and I was talking to people who had come over; they were in the kitchen; I was alone in the living room. I knew that my daughter was in the kitchen, and my father was in a different room in the house. I looked to my left, and there was a huge tree in the middle of the living room. For me, this was very cool. The tree was so tall, the first layer of branches was at the ceiling, which was very high.
I looked downward, and around the base of the tree was a huge linked chain. I thought it odd, especially since the tree was inside. Then suddenly, a loud cracking sound interrupted the happy mood as the tree broke at the base. I was taken aback by this; the chains stayed strong. The tree continued to break from its roots and fall (away from me). As the tree fell and the roots were exposed, the chain links began to strain and break open. Instinctively, I reached out to the tree to catch it (but of course, I could not have “saved” it). I looked toward the kitchen to make sure my daughter was safe. She was; they were oblivious to the tree being uprooted in the living room.
I stood there, still reaching out for the tree, but the tree was completely fallen over and the chains were broken.
It doesn’t take much to realize that this dream is about where I am in my life right now. I am being uprooted from so much that I have done, been, worked on, and strived for. I have tried to uproot myself for a while, but metaphorical chains have held me captive to old ways and old ideas of self.
This year has taken its toll on me. Between October 2013 and now, November, 2014, I went back to school, started my first magazine, and ran for Congress, while being a single mom and frustrated artist and activist. Going back to college was a mixed experience, mainly because I had to take a leave of absence to focus on my campaign. Running for Congress was also a mixed experience, mainly because I now know how pointless our political system is. American politics is a money game. Seeing this up close and personally was disheartening, and it has made me question who I am on many levels, especially the identity I have had since I was 13 — Activist.
This dream must be my subconscious telling me to finally let some of these roots go because I’m not just rooted to my old ways, I’m chained to them. This means I’m not freely rooted in some of these old habits and notions of self-identifiers — I am being held hostage by some of them. And it is time to break those chains and allow the old me to become uprooted so I can lay new roots and new plans and new dreams and awaken to the new trish that is emerging from these incredible and confusing and frustrating life experiences I have had this past year.
A break with the old is good. I just wish I could take time off to process all of it instead of having to jump back into another rat race. I will try to be more mindful and patient and learn to say “no” — to myself (I always want to do everything all at once). Here’s hoping new roots find their way.
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My hair has been a distinguishing feature of mine since I was a child. Hair stylists naturally gravitate to my tresses and touch my hair without asking. But these guys are almost always gay, and they’re more interested in my hair than me, so I never really minded them.
However, on too many occasions to recount, I have been standing or sitting, minding my own business, only to feel something strange happening to the back of my head and realize some stranger was groping and fondling my hair. From a guy at the mall when I was 12 — who wound my hair around and around his arm and said, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself”, to which I replied, “Oh, yes, you could have!” — to a creepo, sleazy, fat guy with one tooth at the circus who operated one of the rides, men are drawn to my hair. An artist wanted to paint me nude because of my skin tone and my hair. Because of these experiences over the years, my hair is definitely one of my sensitive spots. These creepy follicular invaders somehow had the nerve to get offended that I was offended that they were touching and stroking my hair. They would guffaw and sneer, “What do you care? It’s just hair. It’s dead.”
Newsflash: As long as my hair is attached to my head, my hair is a part of my body and is off-limits to anyone unless I personally give permission for a person to touch my hair. Period.
People are taught that hair is dead. Sacred teachings say it is not. In the ancient culture of the tribes of Ireland, Scotland, Gaul, and other European pagan traditions, hair was very sacred. Most people never cut their hair; they let it grow their entire lives, for to cut your hair (nonchalantly) was to cut off your power. In some instances just before major battles, some warriors might cut their hair as a sign of sacrifice to the gods, for blessing in battle. They may also cut their hair while mourning.
The head was sacred to the indigenous tribes of pagan Europa. The head is where we think, see, hear, smell, taste, talk, sing, kiss — all of which are extremely important to every person. In fact, the head was so revered that warriors would take the heads of their enemies to prevent their power from transferring with the deceased to the Other Side. If you’ve ever seen a depiction of the great mother goddess Kali from the Sanatana Dharma teachings, you know the head is a prized possession in several cultures.
Samson, from the Judeo-Christian bible, owed his considerable strength to his hair. Some American Indian tribes have traditions that involve cutting their hair when a loved one has died. Keeping the hair long is part of many yogic traditions that go back thousands of years. The hair is thought to be like “antennae” to the surrounding environment, able to pick up on energetic vibrations, useful, informative sensations that are then transmitted to the brain. Even beards were required of scholars in academia and holy men in some religions.
So hair has always been a very conscious matter to me…. The Broadway musical included.
Note: I’ve never had a lucid dream, and the one dream in which I actively controlled what happened was a real doozy. Oftentimes my dreams are like films, and at an important moment, I’ll get an extreme close-up, zoom-in shot to hone in on what is important.
I had already had my dreams for the night, gotten up to go to the bathroom, and gone back to bed, only to lay in bed for over an hour unable to fall asleep. Sometime after that, I dozed off and had this dream.
I was looking into a mirror that was in my bedroom closet, brushing my hair with my hands. Suddenly a clump of hair came out into my hand. I was understandably upset. My hair is one of my signature features. More hair fell out. I went to my bathroom to look in the bigger mirror, and my hair around my ears and the back of my head was gone. Suddenly, a zoom-in, close-up showed my scalp, and the hair was cut close to the skin, but it was obvious that it had been cut, i.e., with clippers.
I was instantaneously back in my bedroom looking into the mirror in my closet, and I was completely bald. But I wasn’t upset. In fact, I ran my hand over my bald scalp and smiled.
When I woke up, I was confused and slightly worried. Losing hair so drastically is usually a sign of severe illness such as Diabetes or thyroid dysfunction, or worse, the effects of cancer treatment such as chemo and radiation. I have dealt with my hair thinning out due to my thyroid dysfunction, but I’ve been able to regrow my hair now that I have my thyroid and insulin response under control thanks to a superb product. And I would never do chemo or radiation if I had cancer, so I knew that this was not a precognitive dream, showing me a scene from my future (as I sometimes dream).
Having been immersed in the ballet world growing up, I know a ballerina in rebellion will cut her hair. Remember when Rosie O’Donnell got her famous haircut and the media crucified her? I’m not G.I. Jane or Sinead O’Connor. I wouldn’t look good bald. So I consulted the wonderful world of Google for some dream meanings to make sense of this dream that threatened to rock my body and cranial image.
Losing one’s hair in a dream spells gloom and doom according to some interpretations (particularly the religious interpretations). But my dreams are never as concrete as many of the standard interpretations anyway, and I quickly found several interpretations that resonated with me and my current situation.
Losing power was associated with losing hair throughout the various interpretations, but they also noted that the hair that has fallen out (or been cut off) represents something you no longer need. So losing a clump of hair could be a sign of getting rid of something that no longer serves you or an end to a stressful time of your life. They also mentioned that losing hair to the point of baldness could signify a whole new chapter in your life because when you get rid of all that doesn’t serve you, you are left with a blank canvas — a bald head, in this case — to start over. They note that being bald was seen as a sign of wisdom in some ancient cultures, as priests and sages would shave their heads to show they were on a path of knowledge and wisdom. The best explanation said, “You are at a stage in your life where you are confident in fully exposing yourself.” Hmmmmmmm…..
One important thing was whether the hair was falling out on its own or was cut off. My zoom-in, close-up, Mr. DeMille shot clearly showed that my hair had been shorn off with clippers. In effect, I was purposely getting rid of things that no longer served me. I was purposely on a path to greater knowledge and, hopefully, greater wisdom.
I can only go by what I felt when I woke up. And with this dream, though I was a little shaken at seeing myself bald, I did not have any bad feelings upon thinking about the dream. This was one reason I didn’t freak out … like I did after the time I dreamt of all my teeth falling out. Yikes!
This dream is accurate in my opinion. Since I’m still processing my Congressional run and getting my personal life and my self back on track for what I should be doing with my life, I can see how this is a good dream to have. My existence will be uncomfortable as I move forward and let go of the things (and people) that do not enrich my life or my work, but the path (to knowledge and wisdom) is most definitely a path I want to take.
Copyright 2013 by Trish Causey. All Rights Reserved.
Some schools of thought say all dreams are a form of astral projection. If so, then I’m astral traveling 3 to 5 times every night. But what I consider astral projection — traveling across time/space to the Other Side — has only occurred once — that I remember.
I astral projected in a dream years ago, in 2002, or 2003, maybe 2004 — before Hurricane Katrina. This was either the only time I’ve ever experienced this or the only time I remember it this fully.
I was flying in my dream, which was great because I had not had a flying dream since I was a young teenager. As a kid, I’d have dreams in which I would float up out of my body (in the dream) and hang out at the ceiling, sometimes getting bored with whatever was going on in the room, like a classroom or sometimes a hospital/surgical type area, and I’d float out of the room, ducking to not hit my head on the door jamb, then fly/float down the hallway to something more interesting.
In most flying dreams, though, I would be outside where I could get a running start, spread my arms, take off, and fly — but never higher than just above the trees. These were always amazing. I progressed to the point where I didn’t have to take a running start — if I had the thought I wanted to fly, I spread my arms, bent my knees in a small plie’, and I was up in the air, soaring. The most interesting of these was one dream in which I was flying with Elton John. I have no idea why I dreamt that. I love Elton John, but to this day, that is a mystery. :-)
So back to this particular dream… I was enthralled to be flying again, something I had missed for almost two decades. I was flying above the trees. I looked down as the canopy of treetops whizzed by. Suddenly, I realized I was not flying horizontally but vertically, like a helicopter going up instead of across. I thought, “How cool!”
I went up and up, still facing down, looking down towards the land. Further up and away from the trees. I went through the thin, low-lying clouds, higher and higher. Here’s where I started getting worried. I had no clue what was happening. Up and up. Still looking down, I saw I was high enough that I wasn’t just looking at the land or the water, I was now moving up through the clouds. Layers and layers of frothy white clouds. Then I was looking down at the clouds — up and up — looking down now at the entire earth, moving further from it at an increasing speed.
As the earth got smaller, I looked down toward what should have been my body but there was nothing there. I looked to my right at what should have been my arm, but my arm wasn’t there. I looked to my left, but my left arm wasn’t there. I thought, “Where’s my body?!” I looked around at myself, but I wasn’t there — only a fuzz of transparent light.
I felt my fuzz self cross a barrier, and I realized I had crossed the Veil (as pagans say). I was on the Other Side. I slowed down and took it all in, just floating. I had no body because I pure energy. Where I was was pure energy. It looked like an infinity of clouds in a golden light emanating from a huge golden light source off in the distance. In that instant I experienced what I’d never felt before or since — pure love. I knew it seemed crazy even at the time — this is what people who have near-death experiences say. They felt pure love. But it was true. I felt pure love. Pure connectedness to the supraconsciousness. I felt the infinity of the universe. I knew I was returning home — returning as light energy to rejoin the All light energy. No gods. No Jesus. No floating Buddha head. No made up human religious bullshit. The All was nameless, faceless, race-less, label-less energy.
Feeling that pure love was transformative. I knew what that pure love was as soon as I felt it and knew, with sadness, no one had ever extended that pure, unconditional love to me here on earth. I floated in the energy and felt my fuzzy light self being gently pulled toward the golden infinite energy All, and I loved it. I wanted it. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful, so intensely right — to be a part of that energy from whence I came, to leave the crap and the struggle of life on the physical plane. Everything I had ever wanted was right there. All I had to do was drift in the pure love energy stream to rejoin the infinite Source Energy.
I suddenly remembered my young daughter, and I thought, “Oh well, this was nice, but I have to go back now.” I expected to drift back to the Veil and begin my descent toward earth. However, I kept drifting toward the golden light. I thought, “No, really, I can’t stay. I have to get back to my daughter.” Nothing changed, in fact, I started moving toward the golden energy faster. I shouted (as only a fuzz ball of energy can), “NO! I have to go back to my daughter! She needs me!!” I tried to resist the pull of the energy — it was so immensely strong, and truthfully, I really wanted to stay in that perfect love vibration. But I tried pushing against the pull — hard to do with no arms or legs. I pushed against it, tried to pull myself away, pushed and pulled, tried again and again. I yelled, “I HAVE to go back! My daughter needs me!!”
At that instant, I began plummeting downward, downward, downward, accelerating exponentially. I saw the earth getting closer and closer. I went through the earth’s cloud layers, and I went faster. I worried how I was going to catch myself since I didn’t have a physical body. Was I just going to land on the roof of my house — SPLAT?! The earth got closer, then North America, then the Gulf Coast, the water, the trees — boom!
I bolted upright in bed. I was panting, breathless as if I’d just run a marathon. I looked down. I had a body — had arms and legs — nothing seemed broken. I looked up — the ceiling was intact. I felt like I had slammed into a concrete wall. I had crash-landed into my bed. I had no idea what just happened. I sat there for a few minutes, thoroughly confused by this, the weirdest dream I’d ever had.
I got up out of bed, shaky on my feet (that I was glad to see had returned), and I checked on my daughter. She was sound asleep. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the house. I could not wrap my head around what had happened. Of course, I had heard of out-of-body experiences (OOBE, or OBE), but I had never really delved into the topic, or astral travel, or remote viewing. I liked my easy-going nature-based Irish pagan path. I liked my relationship with my perception of a Source Energy, and I left all the New Age woo-woo stuff for the confused woo-woo people (who probably smoked a lot of weed).
Because of this dream/astral dream experience, my perception of “god/gods,” heaven/nirvana, et al were confirmed for what feels right for me. Science says energy is the basis of the universe, and I saw that that is true. Spiritual sages say “we are all connected,” and I felt that to be true in my experience. The bullshit importance humans place on ethnicity, economic class, political party, religious affiliation are all that — bullshit — completely made up, human busy-work to keep the physical plane mired down in drama so the soul energy has something to do while it’s here to learn lessons during its incarnation in the carbon-based meat-suit.
At that moment, I became what I call an Energist. I believe in Energy. Gods, goddesses, etc., are anthropomorphized interpretations of particular energy vibrations to appease the inquisitive human-animal’s mind as the soul sorts out its karma this go ’round.
This is when I became a Humanist. We are all energy. We are all equal. We are all connected, regardless of skin color, spiritual path, or other divisive pigeon hole man-made society wants us to buy into to keep strife and war in perpetual motion, usually for the benefit of sociopathic lizard-brains who feed on misery to secure their own financial gain and to ensure their elite status and control.
This earthly existence offers glimpses into the love and connectedness that exist on the Other Side. They are possible here… if we lose our temporary selves long enough to find our true selves.
This is my experience. You don’t have to like it, agree with it, or believe it. It is mine. This is the experience as it happened to me, so I don’t feel the need to justify or rationalize any aspect of it. This was a truly integral and life-changing experience for me, and to this day, it greatly influences many of my tenets that I hold to be true for me and my path.
I hope to return to the All Source Energy again this lifetime to say Hi — as long as I can come back here once I’m done hanging out in the energy love fuzz.
I recently announced new categories for posts on the topics of Health, Fitness, and Nutrition, and I’ve decided to take my ramblings a step further… and delve into other topics that are both mainstream and esoteric.
Hardly a day goes by that I don’t get an email, a tweet, or Tumblr Ask from a reader who wants to know my opinion on some topic regarding sexuality, health, fitness, women’s issues, or alternative subject: “Hey, Trish, what do you think about…” … porn… lingerie… anal sex… “Trish, do you have any thoughts about…” … marijuana… astral travel… the Saints winning another Super Bowl…
Well, of course, I do! (And no, the Saints will never win another Super Bowl. We never thought they’d win a first one!)
I have tucked my opinions about many topics within my posts here on my AW Blog, and my OpEd posts have addressed certain topics du jour. But I want to respond to these general topic requests that I feel are different from my AskTrish posts, which deal with a person’s specific situation. So my new “What I Really Think About…” posts will be filed under the new category WIRTA.
Also, I will be starting new series of posts on Dreams because dreams can be very important, as well as Recipes to help fuel your nutrition and aphrodisiac needs, plus other out-there, bohemian, pagan, witchy, crazy, alternative, quantum, woo-woo topics that tickle my fancy and make me ponder the meaning of life in the multiverse as a ball of energy hanging out in a physical meat-suit — this existence being a cozy boho-fabulous place I like to call Trishtopia. :-)
So look for my new series beginning in March!