There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
-
-
weird dream, can’t quite shake it... a bee landed on my head and whispered in my ear, I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to invited you to a party, a celebration of life of our mom. And this little bee whose name was Shady because she liked to fly around in the shade and gather her daily workload, she didn’t care much for the hot sun unless she was skimming along a pool to help cool off her little feet. She told me that it was very very important that I attended this party and that no one…
-
serendipity, fate coincidence or ghostly intervention, I’m not sure but last night I found the perfect name for my new venture, The Bochord Writere, which literally means the library writer or the writer librarian. She used to be a librarian when she was 15 back in 1940, I wish I could ask you, her son, or even her daughter, more about her, hear more stories, but I guess I just have to wait until to leads me to what she wants me to know. It’s like all of sudden, I will have this thought pop into my head about something…
-
I buried this part of me a long time ago because to be honest when you tell people that you can hear and feel dead people, they tend to look at you like you are crazy. Bring into that mix that you can remember your past lives or you can feel the energy in a room or from people or that things/people drain the living hell out of you, people get even weirder around you or make fun of you, like my family does, so I kind of got to a point where I just never mentioned it to anyone…