Reflections of sadness
Through an amazing third eye creep
Producing futile lucidness
As magic abandons my dream
Catching your ghost in my workspace
No matter how unreal – Quaking –
Meeting craziness head-on

© Amina Caprice Andolini 2017


Daydreams & Nightmares of August 31, 2008

I believed what God showed me, what He told me.  I believe in the troops He sent forth to help me through the daydreams and nightmares of August 31, 2008.  I had never gone through a loss so tremendous.  My mother.  Before that day, I thought the dreaded heartache was a fictional Being, just a con-corny figure of speech.  That night, on the night of August 31, 2008, I literally had the craziest heartache – a real heartache!  Literal pains.  Not only that, but when Momma left this Earth, I held on.  I held on so tight that my Soul broke apart.  There was a Void.  The Angel of Death used his tools to reset the root.  All kinds of repressed memories popped up.  I had no choice but to pick them.  I spent years picking through gold and rotten fruit.

I felt ragged, as if I’d been in a fight with Azrael, the cosmos, other universes, and I lost big time.  My heart chakra went psychedelic; my third eye kicked the Crown wide open.  Its white light materialized and encased me in a bubble.  During that Era of Protection, Evil couldn’t corrupt the flow of info.  Evil couldn’t understand the alien gibberish – but I could.  I started to see things, feel things straight out of my “subconscious” mind.  They filled my empty Soul with purple liquid and I, I stumbled down a crossbred path.  I started on a Spiritual Journey.  I’m still on it.  I feel alone though there are many wonderful things to do here, a colorful world to explore.  I know Momma and the troops are cheering.  And Azrael, he’s a nice guy.  He checked on me after my pitch black NDE – a trip to Third Nirvana – and I thank him in the deep.

I can hear so many of my Spirit Friends – laughing, singing, and cracking jokes.  I know they’re with me.  I know the Spirit lives on; however, that delicate scrap of air does not faze me in the 3D, this virtual reality.  Its vibrations are so thick, so slow, and so dense…

I’ll always pine for Momma’s face, her voice, her cooking, her mothering.  After a brief episode of stagnancy and a long time searching inward, I’ve somehow found the strength to pick more golden fruit.  The daydreams and nightmares of August 31, 2008 have pacified.