My Dog Died and came back to me in a dream, after dying in another one.

My Dog Died and came back to me in a dream, after dying in another one.

                                                      

Life is so funny. And strange. And complicated.   And sinister.

 

My little Peek-a-Poo died in my arms in 2011. I thought my world was coming to an end.  Just the feeling of the partner I had had for 14 years, the longest of any relationship of mine, had to permanently rest in my savior’s arms.  When I uttered the words, “I Love You, Cassi,” she opened her eyes for the first time after being carried in to the room I was waiting for her in.  Her fur was still as gorgeous as it was when I selected her from the now-weaned pack.  I never cried so much and for so long.

 

I can’t begin to tell of the most horrible thing I heard when I called home to advise them of what happened. Only a person who didn’t know anything about compassion would carelessly deliver their condolences in a way that even God would shutter.  Believe it or not, this person really believed in their message.  A message to crush me.

 

The house I moved into, after relocating there from Georgia, definitely had a spirit that wasn’t very welcoming. One mouse made itself visible.  At least one or two others let their presence be known.  The water wouldn’t drain in the bathtub upstairs.  The power would go out when the power downstairs wouldn’t.  I always felt watched.  I even felt someone or some thing try and force me to turn over in bed.  Had I done this, I truly think I would have to find a new word for terrified.  It was even colder in the back part of the house I occupied.  That part was the bathroom and closet area.  I even noticed that I could neither bring in money or save money.  Sounds silly, doesn’t it?  No matter what I did, nothing seems to hold any permanence.  One summer evening, while Cassi was staying at a friend’s, a young child entered my upstairs abode and lifted my wallet, while I was sleeping in the room right off from the stairs.  According to the police officers who alerted me from the other side of the cut-screened door, it was a suspicious 15 year old boy they found down the hill.  He was stopped and frisked after fleeing the site of the police officers.  Because my address was correct on my driver’s license, it was able to find me.  Had that young person had an aggressive and explosive mind, would I still be here?

 

After that account, there was no need to testify. The kid was sent to a juvenile center.  I was sent into delirium.  Was there a greater force with me than the one I actually felt in that upstairs apartment? The compassion ran rampant. 

 

I often had dreams of Cassi sleeping next to me after her departure. My feet nudged her and I awakened.  She had not yet “crossed-over,” I guess.  Her energy was still there.

 

Nursing Class had been cancelled the day Cassi died.

I went back home and tried to rest after reviewing notes. Cassi looked ill when I picked her up my friend’s place.  He had another dog that Cassi got along with quite well.  However, she looked so frail after that short stay.  At home, she ate what she could.  She drank what she could.  That day, still haunts me.  My baby couldn’t even go to the bathroom properly.  I lay down after I made sure Cassi was secure.  I thought it would be for a short period of time.  There was no tossing and turning.  The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off and I kept trying to rise after turning it off.  But, something wouldn’t let me get up.  My body felt weighed down to the point of being held down through hypnosis.  Then, I broke free.  I called out to Cassi before I hit the door casing.  Horror hit me when I looked to the left to see Cassi panting in her floor-bed and her tongue hanging out of her mouth.  I never knew I could descend stairs without touching them.  She was in my arms when my family member opened the door to ask me what was wrong.  With tears in my eyes, it was suggested that I call 911.  Time was of the essence.  911 would take too long.  Besides, the animal hospital was very close by. 

 

That was the last time I saw my baby alive.

Call 911 followed by the most callous statement ever…by a family member.

 

I moved from that house in the summer of 2012. My health was deteriorating, but I was enthusiastic about my new move right across the street.  Cassi loved to lick my toes.  It’s just something she did when she saw my bare feet.  Why wouldn’t I feel her lick my toes, now, in this new place?  Yet, there was no feeling of her presence or no dreams to remind me of her.  The dreams didn’t start until I began staying over at a friend’s place.  First, Cassi appeared in the road out of nowhere.  I looked away, looked back, and she was gone.  The next dream found me following my beautiful, healthy Cassi up a flight of stairs.  She, of course, made it to the top sooner than I did.  What was strange about that dream was, when Cassi reached the top, she looked back at me, with her tongue out, smiling, as if to be sure I was following her.  As I continued ascending, I noticed a colorful light ahead.  Cassi disappeared.  I never reached the top of the stairs.  

 

In the latest dream, I opened a closed door to find Cassi lying in her bed, panting with swollen eyes, but in the same state I witnessed her in before her real death: 12/15/11.  This time, I closed the door to her room and let my guests know that she was dying.  Why did I do that?  What was the message she was sending me?  What was the lesson that I had to learn?  Who or what was sending me this message?  If I am to think that she was “crossing-over,” I would have to ask if people (she was my child) could keep returning after crossing-over the first time.  Cassi and I were always together.  Now, I am alone and no longer in communication with the first person I met after her leaving.  When I was in a relationship, Cassi was happy and healthy.  What is it that I’m supposed to know?

Out on a limb…because of “The Solid Rock!”


I am so distressed, right now.

My Jimi Claybrooks piece, “The Solid Rock,” was damaged.  Not only have I tried finding a replacement, I have no been able to connect with the artist.

The framed print is so inspirational and sentimental to me.  In it’s pristine state, I was the envy of all my friends in Atlanta, Georgia.  I purchased #1052 of the limited edition 1800.  It would be okay to have anybody want to ask, “If it was so important to you, why didn’t you protect it better?” I deserve that!  Just like one’s own spirituality, it should be protected…well-grounded.

Things happen.

I am in great hope that I can capture the attention of either the artist, Jimi Claybrooks, or someone who can point me in the direction of a newer print nowhere near the $850 asking price. 

Sometimes, I guess you can put a price on sentimentality.

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I Tried To Be Perfect


You put me here

 for a reason

though it may not have been

the right season

I had no fear

 

I listen to the sound

Of their voices

And what I found

Were many, different choices

 

Some found their own way

Others refused to say

Lives floated like a bay

Awakening to fears and pain every day

 

I did my best

To pass your test

But as my heart and smile reflect

I tried to be perfect

 

Though it was my mind

That kept me kind

More indifference

Would I find

 

But I can’t blame them

For another sad church hymn

Souls don’t change with time

They’re just the blind leading the blind

 

If I ask for rest

After I confess

Will you shed your light

With all your might

 

I did my best

To pass your test

But as my heart and smile reflect

Father, I tried to be perfect

 

Sanctuary


 

What occupies the pews worships

the builder of each steeple

Chanting melodic though confusing verse

Controlled to serve as a path to the heart

of all creation

Minds brazen by another beholder

proudly embrace each hand and raising

palm after palm upward in grace

as if to bid “Hello” or to keep the entity

from falling down

The kiddy passed gently around weighs of

gold

And the speaker tells of costs associated with

maintaining and sustaining

 the eminence of the holy

Sideways

the statues weep and the stains on the windows

move with the clouds in the background

The message of the day remains the same as

last week

Not in attendance is Joseph whose wife went on

 before he did

Sara who served as Record Keeper and just turned

 93 on the day Joseph tried to deliver her to her

  party

Serving the Cause brought about an effect of life’s

 Irony

Yet their tombstone lies on the outside