6 Disks Odin Chimera

An interesting development is taking place in my personal assembly of guides. The Chimera which I have been including as representative of the mythic 2nd chakra point seems to be choosing to leave me. Our energies haven't really been all that compatible, and the creature is choosing to move on to work with someone else. I'm not sure what mythic creature will come in to take his place. That will be interesting to observe. Chimera was sort of there today, but I actually felt the Goat more this morning in my meditation. Part of that was my own confusion--I sometimes get my animals confused in my head. But part of it too is that the chimera's presence isn't very strong, and truthfully hasn't been for a while.

Another interesting development: I've been dreaming about people of other races. I dreamt two days ago that I was in a reverse "Six Degrees of Separation" (the film/play) situation. I was staying with an upper class black family somewhere in the city. I was doing normal, everyday things like eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, shower/shave, etc. and it seemed every little thing annoyed the bejeesus of the patriarch (interestingly his name was Charles White). I got fed up with him and started to refer to him as "Mr. White". For some reason my getting all formal with him got his attention. I told him I don't make assumptions about whether I can "duzen" vs. "Siezen" with someone, so I always defer to the formal. He seemed impressed and somewhat mollified, but I wasn't having it. Also, someone was in the dream who I'm angry with, and when I woke up, I realized I was effin' furious at this person. I wrote a fun poem about it that I'll include below.

I dreamt last night I had a Latino ex who was in the closet. He was a handsome fellow with green eyes and reddish hair. Wouldn't recognize as Spanish until you started talking to him. There was another woman there, who was not happy to see me, and the ex was sort of ignoring both of us as we all got ready to go to Church, or at least that's what it felt like.

Here's the poem:

There are poems in the grime of my bad
upkeep of living space, skittering about
with the dust mites and the resentments.

Ah, yes, I smile in wistfulness. Such fun
recognitions to be had in say, opeing
my shirt drawer to arrange my tops
and expel the misplaced shorts and socks.

Put them in the drawer above, oh yes,
and wil I'm at it, I see I've amassed
some offpissed feelings at that bitch
sometime friend who flew all the way
out here to help her other friend die.

And oh, wouldn't it be great if we could
see each other again? Hm. Sure. And so
I shelled out preceious geld I wished
elsewhere to spend. Bought the bus ticket
to Port Authority, and left message after

futile message, and not once did we even
speak by phone! And by the way, he died,
her friend, how conveeeeeeeeeeeenient that, the hook
of responsibility she so deftly evades yet again

so she can lift not a fuckin' finger to inquire
as to what was going on with me. Oh! And here's
a solo sock. To the trash with ya, 'longside dead friendships!