Dreams to Dana pt2

• I'm walking with someone and looking at windows of little shops, while talking to him.
  I can't make out what he is saying but I have a handful of yellow flowers, and I'm sort of twirling them and not paying attention. My hair is really long in the dream, and I sort of put the flowers in my hair as if it were a pocket in thoughts that they won't get lost.
  
  I turn and am walking down an alley and he stands and watches me. I turn to see if he is following but he's reaching to me and telling me "No."
  I stop for a minute and tell him to come, and he has a look of complete disdain. I feel in the dream I've dealt with enough fixing myself for other people when hey are disappointed that I can no longer be someone FOR someone other than myself.
  I look down and have black boots on with red laces.
  The one is untied. Instead of tying it, I take them off, I hand them to the man, and I start running back down the alley.
  
  Suddenly you are in a little hideaway and grab my arm and pull me over. I go to tell you that he is over there and you tell me to shhhh and you peak around the corner at him and tell me no one is there. So I look, but he is still there and I feel weird. We go through a door into this book shop. All the books are blurred and I keep touching them all and the colors smear like they are all just painted. There are people standing in this line, waiting and they all turn and look at us. A woman gives me a look of horror and is pointing at me and sending me thoughts that I'm a witch. I start feeling really sick. I sort of start mumbling, trying to wake myself up in real life. But you tell me to shhh again and we start waling through a series of doors.
  
  I'm standing in a kitchen, and you hand me a glass. We are both laughing and toasting something. I turn around and he is standing behind us and smiling. I don't know if he is real or not though since you didn't see him.
  But I turn back and look at you and you see him this time and you take a sip and drop your glass, your drink goes all over the tiled floor, and the laces of your boots are stained red.
  I look over to the corner and my boots are by the door... I seem to live there, or he does but I can't tell.

Dream post to Dana pt1

I had a dream that you and I were walking through some ridiculously beautiful town. We were holding hands and you were walking behind me. You kept trying to take photos but I kept telling you there wasn't time right now and that we'd come back soon.
You kept getting sad and made me promise that we would come back.
I did and you said that my hair was turning blue.
You took a photo of me to show me, it was bright peacock blue and I had tribal-like make up on.
You were wearing a yellow sundress and we started running and I kept saying that I needed to find your brother- like he knew what was happening to us.

We got to some odd passage next to the road and had to crawl in.
You kept saying that we were shrinking. And again I just kept saying that I needed to talk to Alex. We came to some clearing in a field and there were a bunch of trees surrounding a desk. You asked me where he was.
And I told you, "Right here, write here" and handed you a pen and we wrote something on this notepad. I can't tell if we were writing or drawing because it started getting really dark. And you started crying and saying that I couldn't leave you there. I hugged you and I woke up.

nov-26-13

Past entries from my personal account- 2010:

October 17th 2010:
You are like nostalgic vibrating in my mouth caused by an xylophone. The sun is my blanket and I am a child of the moon. All I needed was air. Be my fresh breath like the shaking you can't stop. Pull me close so I can show you how beautiful the crashing currents have become.

October 16th 2010:
And she echoed out again from the radio grabbing my heart with an eager reminder 'wait a couple more years and you will have it all.' I have waited a lifetime with my curse of agelessness for the blessing of just a whisper that I am on the right path... and now I know for sure...

October 8th 2010:Paint dripping from your mouth in shades of purple and silver on the linoleum as you crouch over your knees. Your eyes are green again and your acrylic based heart has being soaking in metallics.

Sept 29th 2010:
She lay in the dewey grass, in her hand a half full wine glass. In her eyes the glossy reflection of the moon, I no longer worry, for my ship has been rebuilt and I'll sail out very soon. On the half traveled journey back in time, I'll reclaim my soul, and what's mine, is Mine.


Aug 15 2010:Meditating on a protective energy to surround me and I open my eyes and look at the ceiling and directly above me is a ladybug. Ladybugs remind me of my grandma.


Aug 10th 2010:It's a shame I only use my intentions for good anymore... cause I have someone in mind who is begging to be pushed into some heavy karma.
Tell me darling does it feel good climbing into Medusa's snake pit?

So beautifully haunting with your enigmatic stars for eyes and as sharp as kitten teeth you slice a 3 inch section from my heart. I lay in the moonlight where you found me lifetimes ago washed ashore. The fire is lit.


July 23rd 2010:I can feel the Full Moon ready to bloom. To get out of this boat lost in emotional oceans and to bury our faded treasures in the sand. I will miss the way we shared this handmade ship we built the night we met. But I will now be the Lighthouse and guide us to our new paths.

Dream- Cats cradle

Wake up at 4 in the morning after a string of ridiculous dreams where I'm just looking at shadows on a wall in time lapsed periods.
Staring at the last few years and tearing them down like peeling wall paper.
I'm crying, then lashing out, and realizing I don't cry enough in real life, so I'm tearing stuffing out of an antique chair.
I stand on the window sill of a large window and the light is burning me, the sun is too bright and I'm giving a new meaning to sun bather.
I am smearing paint all over the windows. I spot a bit of light on the floor and follow it like a kitten to a laser.
You're laughing.
and suddenly I'm shushing you, we've broken into a neighbors house and the lights are now off. Crouching behind a large olive green corduroy recliner, they are home and in the kitchen.
I quietly open up a closet door and you follow me in.

Falling onto a linoleum floor that seemingly has just been mopped, we are laughing so hard and I realize I am having a flash back, and the ceiling is melting greens and purples. A bright pink flash goes off, I'm like "oh my fucking god" and I'm crawling into a cat carrier, there are three cats here.
I'm peaking through a light blue lace curtain and wondering why you're in my dream and why I'm writing about you.
You shake me out of the carrier and I'm laying on my back laughing as your shirt is melting.
I'm drumming the floor with my fingers. I don't feel like getting up yet.
I stand in the door way and watch the floor turning into yarn.

11-23-13

Can you be as kind as you like to say?
When you've destroyed worlds and decided to stay?
Sitting at the top alone, alone.
The sparse area of the in betweens.
The too vivid and the unseens.
Pat the soil in hopes for growth, but without haste.
All this time as you've gritted teeth and claimed your fame to waste.
Sitting at the top alone.
All alone.

Is this where you want to be?
A spiraling orb of past drenched lips.
Speak through me, but you can never come to me.
Clinging dress to her perfect hips.
Too bad you only see what you want to see.

You can stay down there in waiting for the moss to grow.
Through the grass, the dirt, and your seeds to sow.
Sitting below alone, alone.
How many times must the walls be built before you stop trying to climb?
There are scars on wrists, but they sure as hell aren't mine.
You can see the smoke.
But don't think you can touch her flame.
Sitting below alone.
All alone.

Saree McClaran

language

I make affirmations monthly since as far back as I can remember.
To never smooth out lines, to never pick off broken pieces, to let them be grown into their own beings.
Fluidity in the hands painting, fingertips softly running along lines to blend time.

You can repaint the surface, but I will always know the colors dancing underneath.
Swirling in party dresses and the particular smile acquaintances give each other a few cocktails in.
Souls with secrets that these bodies haven't uncovered yet.
Letting truth pour into diaries on displayed canvases instead.
Once seen by ones heart, can not; will not be seen in any other way.

My promises to myself through dated lined papers of things I must accomplish creatively.
In languages only I know. Not yet vocalized, yet I feel the sounds.
When art is a way we speak through tongues, and as messy as it may be, it is still perceived eloquently.
Each vowel enunciated by a brushstroke, and each word actually spoken is documented.
Even those ones you thought I never heard.
Even the ones I wish I never had.

Tell me though, do I have the colors right?
These pigments are so tainted and I'm just trying to empty my palette before venturing somewhere new.

New Moon. Blank Canvas. Come soon.

-Saree McClaran
Nov-5th-2013

She does a little curtsey with honey dripping from her lips.
Tapping against her indigo voice with her finger tips.
Eyes are vacant but that shell holds more light than you know.
Why have you been asleep so?
What have I been channeling?
With a blink, and in slow motion, heads turn.
All snakes shed their skin, but words have stung and sink right in.
Weapons with a tongue, and you're not the only one.

I built this house single handedly as you sat idly by.
So why are you so surprised when I am kicking down the walls.
Wings broken, mended... I did try!
As I plucked feathers, one by one, each quill filled with a poison,
a hand out reached and she pulled down the sun.
Why are you crying so hard now, girl?
Left you on the down and out?

She does a little dance with a grin on her face.
Karma leads me in repeated journeys until I get out of the same old place.
Counting rocks I've left my signature on; then casting them all out.
Did the waves wash you in again, girl?
Debris of your hull, and it's on your face again, find your place again.

On the up and up.
String of your little balloon.
Wrapped around a finger, then let it free.
Why have you been asleep so?
What have you been channeling to me?

-Saree McClaran
Nov 11th 2013