I’m sitting in a heavy fog on this early kansas morning. Birds are singing. For just a minute I see the low orange sun peeking through the neighbor’s lilac bush before it pushes up and into the fog. The clouds have been like a heavy blanket for days. Something feels lifted today. I dreamed of my grandfather’s hobby trailer that he worked on model trains. He had a whole world in there of tracks and his wacky sense of humor. Beyond the trailer a river bubbled and boiled. My grandparents were not there, I visit their last home, desolate, often. Always full of my childhood things. I sensed urgency as I watched the river flood and begin to send waves toward the structure. I knew the flood was coming. Timelines didn’t matter while the earth did her thing. All tracks will be submerged soon. I am a prophet like my grandfather.
The sun peeks through the leaves again now. A reminder of life force. Earlier in the dream I was a translator, like in war. I gathered frequencies from Russia and wrote the symbols.
As the river sent another big wave, I ran into the trailer. I gathered a few items: my youngest child’s baby teeth, a clear quartz, maybe a bracelet. I do not remember. Treasured things. And I ran back out. I began to wake as political leaders gave me messages I cannot remember. Yesterday an old man told me I am a scalar weapon. Yesterday I also contemplated my saturn in Leo, the dragon heart. How I heal. And the trine between saturn and Neptune in my natal chart. The balance of stars and bone.
I am exactly where I need to be. My heart is healing. My heart feels the earth and hears her cries for revolution.
The orange morning sun is blazing though the fog, atop the neighbor’s roof now.
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