A Smilin' First Day Out

What a day! I woke up to with the memory of three dreams. The last segment was a dream with a horse I love named Mocha. I was watching Mocha rolling in the dirt near a stable with a much longer black and flowing mane than he has currently dancing around him, and he did a somersault! When I first saw him contorting his body for the maneuver I was concerned he might hurt himself. But not a chance. Mocha was in bliss. I should preface this dream by saying that in these last few months, I’ve been connecting with horses in a remarkable way. I’ve been spending time with two herds, and horses come in my dreams almost every night. These experiences have broadened my perception immeasurably, especially regarding the capability and awareness of our precious land whales, and their service the humanity. In fact, I read recently that horses, along with dogs and cats, are reputed to be one of three species that followed us “out of Oneness” (i.e., when we chose to dream of what it would be like to not know ourselves as Perfect Oneness), to serve when our desire came to restore our Divine memory. After experiences these past months, and with Simon for 10 years, I believe it.

I also dreamt of driving with, and then being at a party with, a celebrity couple. One part of the couple was beautiful and appeared quite content and present. The other part? Stone drunk and belligerent. Not a happy camper, and uncaring of their affect on anyone around them. A being still beautiful, but Self forgotten. One possible analysis? One symbolized Divine Mind. The other? Not adhering to their heart’s intuition.

In the third dream segment, I was walking alone along a roadway of an other-worldly feeling city made of stone. The stones of the city were shaped like bricks, but they felt far more ancient and smooth. And neutral in tone. All structures, buildings and walkways and roadways, were made of this same stone formed into rectangles. There was a lovely black woman getting out of a nice and shining vehicle, something like a black Rolls Royce of the British taxi cab sort. She was about to enter a building that felt like both a church and a restaurant that was familiar to me, though I cannot recall being inside the structure. I told the woman it was a good place to go. Then, I carried on walking, and there was a narrow pathway above the main road that felt more nature-like, the stone brick faded into a dirt pathway. I think I chose to take the path, though I didn’t know where it led. Hmmmmm….sounds familiar!

Back to the travels of the day…The Snoqualmie mountain pass report said wet and clear roads with fog patches east of the pass. Highly drivable without the traction tires required in recent days, so Simon and I headed out from Jeff’s at 10:00 AM. Goodbyes are poopie, but sweet. Poopie because I cannot take cherished souls with me, and because I have no idea when the next cribbage or backgammon game will occur. Sweet because everyone is with me already and always.

The day was filled the usual ubiquitous flow of license plates bearing the number 22. For years, I have seen this number everywhere in one form or another 22, or 229, 922, 226, 224, 223, 222, 221, 220, etc. And, not just on license plates. It’s all over almost every day. And I’m never, or at least rarely, looking for it. It catches my eye as cars pass by or pull in front of me, or at stoplights. I see it on clocks, and as the only mileposts I notice for hours, on pieces of mail, in advertisements, in telephone numbers. It is as though the number 22 magnetically draws my eye. I interpret the number as the angels saying all is well.

At a rest stop for Simon ball playing and other stuff, I decided to text an east coast dwelling friend and A Course in Miracles compatriot. I texted “U R Love” unsigned. The reply said, “Thanks! Who are you?” I looked at the origin of the message, and it said Elke, not Donna, the friend I thought I had texted. I laughed, knowing there are no mistakes, and texted back “Laura Bedford :O}” - with the smiley face. Elke called me right back. After a bit of cell phone signal mayhem, we connected, and she told me an incredible story a bit of drama she’d been experiencing. Her debit card had been compromised, and she’d been going through the lovely motions of sorting things out. Apparently she had just said to herself “It’s a good thing I know I am Love” (or something to that effect). As she was having this thought my text message arrived! We talked and laughed together for a bit. Then, Elke called me back about 10 minutes later even more excited and stunned. After we had hung up, someone she didn’t know, who’s life she had unknowingly touched deeply, came up to her and told her she had literally helped saved their life during a very dark time. Then she got into her car where a song was playing all about only Love being real. (Please note, Elke could tell this story more precisely, but the gist was this amazing string of U R Love events this afternoon! And I was given the blessing of being an unwitting conduit.)

Then, I witnessed a gorgeous doe bounding through the snow.

Later on, I came upon a car with a young man clearly waving for help. My immediate response was to turn on my right blinker and slow Pegasus (my noble steed of a truck). Then the ole fear thought showed up, so, though I slowed down, I passed him by. But, as Source would have it, I couldn’t help stopping, and so had some distance to back up! I suppose I’m highly sensitive to such calls, knowing it could be me waving for assistance. I did a double take, almost pulling away, when, after I stopped, the man reached back into his car and looked to put something in his pocket and then pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt. In response, I locked my doors, and rolled down the window, prepared for a fast getaway. Turns out it was a wonderful, lovely young couple, both originally from Russia, traveling to explore their new hometown. V was just hired to a new position, he was showing his wife where they would be living. They had run out of gas. I was bursting with happiness. I loved that I didn’t need mechanical skills to be of assistance, and, most of all, I love Russians! Always have. Alexander Solzhenitsyn was like my all-time favorite author as a young girl. Yep, a midwest pre-teen consumed with a thirst for knowledge about the gulag and Cancer Wards in the Soviet Union! I loved the idea of all things Russian, and the depth of the Russian soul. I would fantasize about living in a tiny apartment, studying and discussing things of import with loads of people around, lots of love, and while resources would clearly be scarce, all that was available would be shared with all with love. I would eventually major in political science, with an emphasis in Russian studies. The only reason I didn’t study in St. Petersburg (Leningrad when I was in school) was because I didn’t want to work as hard as was necessary to learn the Russian language. But, I couldn’t get enough of writing the Cyrillic alphabet, or spending the five minutes it took to say numbers like 1983 in Russian. Word meanings and forming sentences were far less interesting to me than forming the beautiful letters. Ancient fantasies and long forgotten memories were awakened this wintry day of 2009.

V, R and I cleared out my overstuffed passenger seat for R, and V piled in the backseat with shaking Simon for a trek to the nearest petrol stand. Along the way, R and I asked each other lots of questions. I ended up talking a lot since she was an exceptional interviewer. I get so excited when I meet new people and we embark on adventure, I can barely stand it! We exchanged emails, so perhaps I’ll be able to learn more of her story. I loved when R said something to the effect that there are no accidents. She also asked almost immediately if I was a Christian. I said I wasn’t so much into organized religion because of the misunderstood sin, fear, guilt, judgment thingy, but that I was a major Jesus freak - the Love Dude - and pulled out a gorgeous drawing I have of the Ancient Man holding a glowing golden globe in front of His Heart. I said we share the same message…that we are whole, innocent and perfect and nothin’ else, and we’re merely dreamin’ up all the other goop, and that the guilt and judgment devices keep the dream intact, and that we dreamin’ “elves” can wake up anytime we decide to only love and overlook all sleepin’ error, no matter what, even if weez walkin’ away from this or that error. Oh, you know how I can go on about such things. And create even longer sentences. Turns out they’ve done some missionary work!

The evening closed at a great little motel in Moses Lake, WA called Lakeshore Resort and Motel. On the shores of…you guessed it….Moses Lake (or at least I would imagine that’s the lake’s name). I highly recommend it if you’re in the neighborhood. A perfect traveling rate, and keenly friendly. After check-in, a dear sister-of-my-heart Sue called, and we had a transformational conversation to top off an already wondrous day.

Simon is ready to sleep, or at least get lots of tummy scratches, and this posting turned out to be a whole lot longer than I expected it to be. You are starlight. Hopin’ your days are filled only with beauty and wonder and abundance! Blessings Eternal!