Drugged

I recently had a nightmare with psychotic elements in it. Blue pointed out that I was addicted to the “me” in the past – the one with psychoses. To the energy of it. The identification. He told me I was drugged.

Yesterday I watched an episode of Little house on the prairie – where the father holds his son while the son is in withdrawal from morphine. The father does not leave his son for ONE second, and I bawled all the way through it – the need of being HELD so the pain could be allowed to BE there.

On the bus stop toward home two days ago, the same day as the dream, a very drunk man slept in the bus-shelter. Drugged. I blessed him  in my mind, and he immediately woke up and came to me and asked for money. I had no cash. He asked, ” could you afford a loaf of white bread and some liver paste?” I bought it for him. The bus came, and the driver told me that I don’t need to pay because I was kind to that man.

Today I met that same man right in front of my bus on my way home – but on a different station. He beamed when he saw me, took my hand and shook it and put his cheek to mine. “You helped me!” he exclaimed, and when I entered on the bus – with a different driver – the driver said,, when I told him I am a senior, “are you really sure you are that old?”   His expression – so gentle.

Blue: “See – trust the process, Leelah. As inside, outside. The drugged are being met with kindness. And the driver loves you and takes you home.”

 

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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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