Tag Archives: writer

I Dreamt I was Loki

It’s true.

I had a dream I was Tom Hiddleston as Loki.

Don’t worry, it’s not the first time that I’ve dreamt I was a dude. The first time that happened, I was Will Smith.

Which is weird, considering I like being a chick.

*shrug*

Perhaps it’s a writerly thing.

 

Anywho… back to me being Loki.

*wiggles eyebrows*

 

 

The entire human species was on a living ship in the depths of the ocean. I say ship and not submarine because somehow it was a bloody ship and we weren’t covered in water even though we were submerged in it.

It’s a dream. Run with me here.

Something was causing a huge hole in the bottom of the ship, which was allowing water to actually get into it. Or onto it. Whatever. Hole in the bottom – death by drowning looming on the human race.

Loki (me) was trying to help Captain America and Thor fix the issue. In the beginning of the dream Loki was a bad guy but by this point he (me) is an anti-hero. So, a good guy. Trying to save all the people.

Glad you’re all caught up. Moving on.

Then my grandma is in the dream, and she’s in one of the bottom levels of the ship (it has loads of levels, because you know, entire population of world stuffed in there) and her dog (she doesn’t have one in real life) is dying. She was above her sleeping area in another level at the time of the hole being created and escaped with a lot of others.

She called me (Loki) to save her dying dog. (I think he was dying of old age.)

Loki gets to the dog but then my grandma, still on the phone (because apparently cell reception in the middle of the ocean in a ship that doesn’t let in water while being fully submerged, is great!) decides she doesn’t want me to risk my life by trying to get her dog, since her dog is dying soon anyway. I, Loki, was like, just because your sweet little fluff-ball of a dog is going to die, doesn’t mean his remaining life doesn’t matter. And he shouldn’t die alone. So Loki saves the dog.

Then the dream does dream like stuff and skips ahead. I’m still Loki but now we know that the hole in the huge ship was caused by The Villain of this dream – and now we know who that is.

Captain America and Thor try to fight off the Villain in an end-of-the-movie-like-showdown.

Human lives hanging in the balance. *drama*

 

 

Captain America and Thor are fighting against the Villain and they get thrown to the ground in dramatic movie fashion after hitting each other really hard.

*rolls eyes* This is in my subconscious, don’t forget.

Then the Villain isn’t the Villain anymore.

The Villain is Loki, lying there all beat up and disillusioned.

It becomes apparent to me (in the way dreams just let you “suddenly know” things because it’s in your own bloody head) that Loki and the Villain share the same body. Two different beings, one body. And Loki didn’t know this until just now. Neither did anyone else.

Captain America looks at Thor. “Two beings in one body. That’s a problem.”

Or something like that. It sounded cooler in my dream.

They both look at Loki, who says, “You know the only way to kill him is to kill me.”

And you know what the sad thing is?

Captain America and Thor don’t even try to figure something out. They just nod at one another, then Loki, and walk forward with the intent to kill him. And Loki just sits there.

Then I woke up.

 

You know what the actual sad part of this is?

I realized I’m not just Loki in this dream. I’m Captain America and Thor too.

Because I am always the one to give up on me. I never stand up for myself or my dreams. I never say, “wait, we can figure this out so I can live too”. I never try to be my own friend or protector. Never try to understand or help out or wait for.

I am always trying to pretend it is outside forces that keep me from writing or exercising or making the changes I want to make and becoming the person I dream of being.

But it’s not.

It’s me.

I’m pointing at Captain America and Thor – but it’s me, Loki.

Just sitting there. Knowing I will give up on myself and just waiting to die some more inside.

 

My being Loki was interesting to me.

Loki and the Villain in one body. That’s a whole can of worms for me. Yes, I’m my own worst enemy, but it goes further than that for me. Yes, I am bipolar and at odds with myself, and moody, but still. More to it.

But you’d have to understand my relationship with the character Loki before knowing all the meaning the dream holds for me.

I’ve liked Loki the Trickster long before the Marvel movies. I love mythology and tricksters just kinda do it for me. Plus Loki in the recent movies was unloved and treated poorly, then became evil and terrible as a coping mechanism. There’s a whole list of reasons Loki is relatable to me. (Not that I plan on becoming arrogant and murderous.)

I also particularly like Captain America because he always does the right thing, whether that means standing alone or not. No clue why Thor was in there. Not that I don’t like him. There are loads of heroes and versions and mythologies and let’s not get into that because it would be never ending. I just love superheroes and mythology.

 

 

I’m certain there are tons of interpretations behind this dream.

I figured if I wrote it out for all to see, I’d think about it more, instead of ignore it. Because ignoring myself is something I do FABULOUSLY.

But I’m hearing from many sources – including psychology sources – that dreams are a lot more our brain and a lot less wishy washy things to be ignored. So if my subconscious is trying to tell me something, I’m trying to listen. This week anyway.

 

Just so you know – I don’t think it comes across in this post – I actually really enjoyed the dream. And I woke up in a good mood. Its like a symbolic, mythological, superhero, metaphorical map of my subconscious.

 

What do you guys think my dream means?

Had any interesting dreams lately?

Obsessed with mythology?

 

(As for my grandma appearing in my dream, that’s personal.)

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Egyptian Ankh Symbolism

The ankh is a hieroglyph (representation of a concept) for “life”. It symbolizes eternal life, to be specific.

Egyptologists, archaeologists, religionists, historians, random people – no one can decide on where the ankh came from. Where the idea spawned from. Why some random ancient Egyptian dude or dudette made a teardrop/cross shaped thingy and wore it as a necklace.

No clue.

Like most symbolism, mythology, and archaeology, we have no freaking idea. We’re just guessing from what we have when it comes to things like Celtic symbolism, runes, and ancient Egyptian symbolism. If something isn’t literally written out, we don’t know anything for certain.

And I am in no way an Egyptologist, so I have no clue either. But I love symbolism and I’ve always been fascinated by the Ancient Egyptians. So this is what I’ve found and what I like.

I am, after all, a writer. I like poking at things, collecting stories. Possibilities.

 

 

One theory is that the ankh is a combination of female and male. Some believe it was first used as a belt buckle for the goddess Isis.

“The theory of Egyptologist E.A. Wallis Budge (1857-1934 CE), who claims it originated from the belt buckle of the goddess Isis, is considered more probable but still not universally accepted. Wallis Budge equated the ankh with the tjet, the “knot of Isis”, a ceremonial girdle thought to represent female genitalia and symbolizing fertility. This theory, of the ankh’s origin stemming from a fertility symbol, is in keeping with its meaning throughout ancient Egyptian history and beyond to the present day. Egyptologist Wolfhart Westendorf (b. 1924 CE) supports Wallis Budge’s claim”

Combined with other amulets the ankh could bring the wearer greater health. It was also known as a powerful magical talisman, some believe. There’s a huge dispute on that one. Careful who you say that too. You might get your head bit off.

Here’s an interesting tidbit…

“Archeologists have discovered pictures in ancient Egypt that show the gods pouring water on the pharaoh’s head as part of a cleansing or ritual for purification. The water is shown as chains of ankhs”

According to Scholar Adele Nozedar:

“The ankh represents the male and female genitalia, the sun coming over the horizon, and the union of heaven and earth… Its resemblance to a key gives a clue to another meaning of this magical symbol. The Egyptians believed that the afterlife was as meaningful as the present one and the ankh provided the key to the gates of death and what lay beyond”

 

The ankh is often depicted on the Egyptian god’s and goddesses’ fingertips. For example, Isis, who was connected to rites of the dead and known as a magical healer. Or Anubis, the jackal god associated with mummification and the afterlife. Let’s try Ma’at. The goddess of truth, harmony, balance, and justice. And don’t forget Osiris, the god of the underworld and judge of the dead. And to wrap things up, the sun god Ra.

The ankh eventually became a symbol of the planet Venus, and then the goddess Venus (or Aphrodite).

Apparently every divine being had an ankh. Or were throwing ankhs at their subjects’ heads.

Christians, as usual, adopted the symbol in their quest to take over the world. As opposed to demonizing it. (No offense to Christians, I’m a Christian. Every religion and pretty much every country tried taking over the world at some point. *rolls eyes*)

“Its shape has been variously understood as the rising sun on the horizon, as the union of male and female, or other opposites, and also as a key to esoteric knowledge and to the afterworld of the spirit. The Coptic church of Egypt inherited the ankh as a form of the Christian cross, symbolizing eternal life through Christ (35).”

 

The ankh is also known as a good luck charm. Probably because every Egyptian god and goddess was sporting it from their nose hairs and every Ancient Egyptian had about twenty of them just lying around or adorning their clothes, face, furniture, and probably their cats.

 

 

One thing that is known for certain, is that the Ancient Egyptians favored the symbol. It shows up all over in burial tombs, sculptures, paintings, and was carried as an amulet.

Curiously, mirrors were often found in the shape of an ankh. One theory is that the mirror could then let the owner look into another world.

“The Egyptians believed that the afterlife was a mirror image of life on earth and mirrors were thought to contain magical properties.”

 

Speaking literally, some people think the ankh is the depiction of a sandal strap. Others think it’s a flower. Yet another theory is that it’s a human raising their hands. As stated above, some think it is genitalia.

 

So basically, the ankh was the post-it note for the Ancient Egyptians. Thing was everywhere!

I absolutely love it. 🙂

I always hear of it being used as a luck charm. I’d never looked into it further so I didn’t know about all of this awesomeness. There are just so many stories and possibilities. It’s drool worthy.

As a genre fiction writer there are just so many ideas rolling around in my head.

Ankh mirrors that might peer into another realm! Eternal life! Ma’at, Ra, and Venus!

*swoon*

 

 


Sources

http://www.historyforkids.net/egyptian-ankh.html

https://www.ancient.eu/Ankh/

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Isis-Egyptian-goddess

https://www.ancient.eu/Anubis/

https://www.ancient.eu/Ma’at/

https://www.ancient.eu/osiris/

http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/ankh.htm

http://www.touregypt.net/featurestories/re.htm

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Weird Dream

I had the strangest dream the other morning.

 

I was asleep in a house with my entire family. They were in the living room together. I was down the hall in my room, half asleep. This was our home, had all our stuff in it, and only our family lived there.

Lebron James walks out of the room next to mine and goes into the living room, dripping annoyance as he says, “If Daphne doesn’t wake up soon, we’re not going to be able to watch the movies.”

 

Weirdest dream ever.

Seriously.

I dream about people eviscerating other people; creatures chasing vulnerable people and attacking with sledge hammers and foot long, thick fangs; falling in love with (very attractive, human looking) aliens; the world ending with just me and my dog left; falling, hitting the ground, and flying.

I wake up and think woohoo! Great story ideas, hurry up and write this down.

But that?

Definitely my oddest dream thus far.

I don’t even watch basketball.

I don’t know anything about Lebron James except that he plays the game!

 

Since I started taking medication for depression and anxiety I’ve been dreaming. A lot. I didn’t used to dream except now and again. They started out really uncomfortable bad dreams, but now they’re great for my creative writing self!

 

Had any strange dreams lately?

 

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Randomly, In Quotes

“A book is a version of the world. If you do not like it, ignore it; or offer your own version in return.”

  • Salman Rushdie

 

This quote uber backs up my previous blog post! Preach it, dude that I don’t know!

 

 

“Too many people are thinking the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, when they ought to just water the grass they are standing on.”

  • Amar Dave

 

This is what I’m working on right now. Working with what I’ve got. You see, I keep telling myself if I can reach all these goals that are outside of myself, I’ll find happiness. I’ll feel worthy, good enough, valuable, lovable, etc.

The thing is, internal goals are what I need to be working on. Working with what I’ve got. If I don’t change me, nothing outside of me will change.

 

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“Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.”

  • Doris Lessing

 

That’s an amazingly focusing quote.

I watched a movie a few weeks ago that somehow made me think of this quote. Movie has nothing to do about anything pertaining to this quote. Or perhaps it does. I don’t know.

What clicked for me was the atmosphere of the movie. The feeling permeating the entire movie.

It was hopeful. Amidst turmoil, madness, unbelievable odds (aren’t we always against unbelievable odds?), and only one other person who believed like the main character did – it was hopeful.

Which connected to this quote, for me.

It’s a real roundabout way of seeing things but that’s typically how my heart smacks my brain in the face finally getting it to see, finally getting me to feel.

So – hope.

Don’t wait.

Work now, for what I want. Find a way to enjoy life. NOW. Find a way to work on improving my life, now. Find a way to be who I am, and consequently bring to the world what only I can, now.

No matter the circumstances. No matter the turmoil, the madness, or unbelievable odds. No matter the amount of people who don’t believe it’s possible.

Find a way to believe. Find hope within yourself. Find others who believe along with you.

Live your life now. Don’t wait.

 

 

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“Determination is doing the task when you have no motivation to do it or energy to give it.”

  • Monica Wilcox

 

This is me right now.

I don’t even have the energy to comment on it.

 

 

“You’ll never change your life until you change something you do daily. The secret of your success is found in your daily routine.”

  • John C. Maxwell

 

 

*falls over*

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Non-Static Tomorrows

The more I try to put a magnifying glass to “who I am” and try to figure it out, the farther away I fall. The vaguer the answers get.

I know who I am. Even if that means, right now, I don’t have all the answers about myself or my motivations or my deep, dark, hidden secrets from myself.

The more I try to peg down who I am in specifics, the more I lose my ability to define my identity.

Who I am, is someone who changes.

Every day.

 

Today, I don’t have all the answers.

I’m the chick who cried in a room full of people who understand her, and didn’t want to get the headache that might turn to a migraine because she cried. The chick who doesn’t cry out loud often. But feels safe in that room.

Today, I’m the gal who prepared a small lesson to teach tomorrow about self-reliance and tied it in with how to fold an origami heart.

I’m the person who listened to her neighbors shriek at each other and wondered if I could put them in a story and fix them.

 

Today, I’m Daphne. I was Daphne yesterday. I’ll be her tomorrow.

But today, I’m not the same as yesterday and I won’t be the same tomorrow.

 

Today I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety and come out of it with a touch of serenity in my rib cage. I’ve been honest with myself, even though it hurt, and felt better for it.

I’ve felt a touch of hope. Hope that I’ve changed. Hope that I’ll continue to grow.

I’m the one who read this post and felt an immediate connection with her words.

Who laughs a real laugh, content, even though my insides are a mess.

The same Daphne who hasn’t taken all of her Halloween decorations down yet, because hey, bats and pumpkin-skeletons are part of Fall too!

The gal who took her dog out in the freezing cold and thought of all the homeless who must be shivering in old clothes, and wished she could save the world. The same gal who realized a lot of people don’t want to be saved. Not really.

The same Daphne who grinned at herself. California isn’t freezing, not compared to other places.

To me, it’s freezing.

I am the writer who watches Scooby-Doo reruns while writing about death, rebirth, pain, suffering, hope, and a woman who fights herself to freedom.

 

Yesterday… I don’t want to think about yesterday. It hurts. And the hurt slides back in so easily, just at the mere mental mention of it. It pervades.

But the Daphne I am today is okay with that.

Today I have choices, I’ve decided.

Today, I can be all of me. Vulnerable. Raw.

I keep telling you this. Because I know it’s true. I feel it from the soles of my feet to the hollows behind my eyes.

 

Meet Daphne Shadows. She takes a selfie about once a year. So she's terrible at it. Don't judge.

Meet Daphne Shadows. She takes a selfie about once a year. So she’s terrible at it. Don’t judge. And she’s been crying. Also, she’s upside down. Again.

 

I know where I’ve been, what I’ve been through, how I’ve coped, how I’ve survived. What I was thinking, what went on inside me even as I smiled and people bought, all the time, that I was doing fabulously. I know what’s brought me joy. What I’ve tried and failed to do. What mistakes I’ve made. I know how I’ve grown. What I’ve accomplished.

I know who I was yesterday. Last night. This morning. A few hours ago.

 

I know who I am.

Even if I don’t want to own up to it.

I am the Daphne who expels misery via the ink she types or pens, embedding it into pages.

I know who I am even if I focus on what I feel are my failings and can’t seem to find any successes until I talk to someone else who truly knows me.

Even if I hide who I am, from myself.

 

I know who I am. I am learning to be all of me, out loud.

Even if I don’t know a thing about my tomorrows.

 

Tomorrow I’ll be different. Tomorrow, I’ll be the same me.

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Something is Missing

This post is mainly going to center around me being a writer. If that irritates or bores you, skedaddle. However, you can simply get rid of the word “writer/writing” and add in your passion. Then it’d relate to just about anyone. 😉

 

Do you ever doubt that you’re a good writer?

I don’t mean do you doubt that you are a writer.

I simply mean, publishing material?

Do you doubt that it’s what you’re meant for, what you’re good at, what you’re in love with, what you want to spend the rest of your life doing? Do you ever wonder, would it be better if I gave up on writing as a career path and went for something else? It would certainly be easier. People wouldn’t say I was wasting my life or taking too long to get to where I want to be.

I wonder that sometimes lately.

It comes in these flashes, at the bottom of some terrible episode of me realizing that I’m miserable because I keep forgetting that I’m allowed to enjoy life. That I’m allowed to tailor my life into something I want, the rest of the world’s opinion of me be damned.

It comes when I realize I’m exhausted and bottomed out. Burned out. Tired of fighting against chains I allowed other people to put on me, simply by giving into their mentality. Thinking I should be someone better than I am.

 

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It only lasts a few moments, literally.

That’s the length of time I can even imagine spending my life not being a writer.

And then it’s gone and I see how ridiculous it was.

Because something will remind me.

I’ll finish a really good book and look up the author’s website and get that rush. That unbelievable urge to live life that way. To dive into writing, dive into all that it entails. And I’ll remember the heady craziness that writing is, this lovely terrifying beautiful monster that comforts and loves me and doesn’t let anyone else hurt me.

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense to you. But it does to me.

 

I keep “forgetting” to write. To schedule it in because it’s important to me. Writing is my passion.

And yet, I keep “forgetting” about it.

How does one forget part of themselves?

It’s pretty damn easy, actually.

I took a year off from writing, to get my head straight. (Life has the effect of screwing one’s head on backwards and upside down.) The year is over.

I regained my passion for writing, the urge to write, the desire to write.

I even started working on my novel a few times over the past few months.

But I’m still missing some key ingredient.

I haven’t quite connected all the dots.

At least I’ve wrapped my heart, mind, and soul around writing authentically. So taking the year off worked its magic.

However, I keep having these false starts. I’m steadily (via the false starts) getting through a list of edits, answering questions, and deciding on some changes. Perhaps they’re not false starts. Maybe I’m just starting back to writing really, really slowly.

The key ingredient seems to be finding time to focus on things I’d like to focus on. Easier said than done.

I’ll find that dot eventually, right?

 

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What is your passion? Do you have a problem with fitting it in? Do you ever “forget” part of yourself? Any missing dots?

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If We Couldn’t Change

I’m glad, as a human being, as a person, that I can change.
Aren’t you glad we’re capable of change?
I recently had the need to look back through an old blog post of mine and found myself cringing.
So I’m making some changes.

Let me repeat:
Thank heaven we can change.
*falls over*

My blog is under construction again.
I get itchy. I get agitated. I get tired of how things were.
Right now, I feel like my blog is unorganized and so I’m re-organizing.
Slowly. (because I also tend to put things off that have to do with writing. and emails. i take forever to get to emails.)
I’m also deleting posts that make me wish I could hide under a rock.
It’s like shedding dead skin.

I’m kind of in awe, actually.
It amazes me how much a person can change. Okay, so it amazes (and kind of embaresses me) how much I’ve changed. How I can read a post I wrote two years ago and wonder at the person who wrote it?
Plus I’m finding a post here and there that just seems redudant, as if I really, really didn’t know what to write about but felt obligated… Pointless. And I don’t like it when I’m redundant. I feel like I harp. I don’t like that feeling. (that wasn’t a really redundant paragraph at all)

Have you ever read something you wrote years ago and wondered at how much you’ve changed?

People change.
Situations change.
Atmospheres change.
Could you imagine if we got to a certain point and were no longer allowed to change? To learn, grow. Become.

Without the possibility of change there would be no hope.

 

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