About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)

This morning as I’m listening to one of my podcasts for the day a spiritual teacher is talking about seeking absolute truth. Frankly, there was a lot of “deep” talk about how everything we experience as humans is relative. But, the absolute truth lies in the “nothing” (or something like that). It’s confusing to me. I’m trying to stick with the podcast because I’ve heard that if a teaching doesn’t make you squirm, you’re not learning anything and I’ve found many gems even from people with whom I have deep disagreements. But, as he goes along I find myself saying “No, no, no.”

He goes on to talk about how humans seek meaning and when we don’t find meaning, we don’t like it.  No shit, What galls me though is the implication that there is somehow something wrong with seeking meaning. As the podcast mentions, the Buddha taught that life is suffering or life involves suffering. Attachment causes distress. Attachment to a particular circumstance or outcomes causes suffering. If we could give up all attachment, we would not suffer. If we could give up all preference for a specific result, we would not hurt. All of this is true. You cannot argue with any of it. If you want to end suffering, stop caring about what happens. Easy. I’ve heard teachings saying that we need to detach from our life story.  They tell me to tell myself Brian is just a story. I am an eternal being who is beyond any circumstances of this lifetime, any experiences, of this lifetime. If I could only identify with who I indeed am, I could transcend any suffering. Just step outside of my story and be the observer, unattached, unaffected. The solution is to eliminate the need to seek meaning, to have no preference for outcome A or outcome B. Ideally, you’d be just as happy being healthy and wealthy as living on the street in constant pain. There’s only one problem.

Humans are, well, human. We have evolved over millennia to seek meaning. Or we were created to desire it, whichever you prefer. We pursue pleasure, and we avoid pain. This is a biological imperative. Every living being has evolved to seek comfort and to do whatever it takes to prevent pain. This is not a shortcoming; this is the design. I’ve studied Buddhism, and there’s a lot of good stuff in there. And, I think there’s some good stuff in what this guy was saying, but the problem is when we come to the wrong conclusions about seeking meaning or avoiding pain and suffering. If we could divorce ourselves from the need to find meaning, we would suffer less. If we could eliminate the preference for any circumstance or outcome, we would eliminate suffering entirely. So, this is what we must do. This is impossible, as human beings though.

While meditation, getting in touch with our higher, more authentic self can add perspective, and reduce suffering it’s additive to who we are as humans, not subtractive. We cannot deny our humanity, our biology. We can know we are that higher self, the eternal being, in addition to, not instead of. Escaping the frustrations and pains of being human is not the goal. Eliminating the desire for meaning isn’t what we are after. Instead, we should seek more meaning, more profound meaning.  How can I transmute this pain? What is this pain here to teach me? Yes, I am suffering. No, I don’t want this. My higher self might be benefiting, but this still sucks. It’s OK to be human, and it’s OK not to want pain.

I’m leery of any teaching that says I have to be less than or more than human. That’s why I chose my email address (onlyhuman) at least for the years I spend here, I am human, fully human. I cannot be more. I do not want to be less. I have desires. I have needs. I have things I do not wish to have to endure. It’s part of the deal.

As an aside, another thing he said that bugged me was that I should be grateful I woke up to feel pain. That sounds good. We should be thankful for life. And, I am grateful for life. The issue I have is the notion of being thankful for waking up. It’s something I’ve heard many Christians say. “Any day on top of the dirt beats the alternative” or something to that effect; as if the worst thing that could happy to us is to die. Newsflash, we don’t die. We cannot die. We never “don’t wake up.” Be grateful that you were created and that you have the opportunities you have. Being a human being is a marvelous thing. But, don’t think the worst possible thing that could happen to you is for your body to stop functioning. On the day that happens, you will truly wake up. You’ll be more awake than you ever were here. Death is far, far from the end.

In closing, I turn to my favorite role model, Jesus. As I was thinking about the misplaced desire to transcend being human while being in the body; the drive to become this all-knowing, being who simply chooses not to suffer, I pictured Jesus hanging on the cross. While Jesus was one bad-ass Master, He was still very human. He knew who He truly was. He never forgot His Home and His true nature. In the Garden of Gethsemane, He prayed so hard not to have to endure what was before Him that He sweated blood. He had desires. He had preferences. His last recorded words expressed a deep preference for what happened to Him “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”  Those don’t sound like the words of someone who had “overcome” all of His desires and was cool with just whatever. Be human. Be fully human.

 

Last night, Helping Parents Heal, welcomed Jamie Clark.  Jamie is a medium who has been tested under controlled conditions by Dr. Gary Schwartz, a well-known afterlife researcher. Jamie has proven his ability. Jamie shared with our group his unique path to mediumship, based on a vision at the age of five years old, growing up in a family of mediums who supported his gift, and how he had to watch many of his family members transition while he was growing up.  Jamie spoke about everything from soul planning, to suicides, to Jesus’s role in the universe to extraterrestrials. But, here’s the amazing part.

Jamie doesn’t know me. I saw him once in Arizona where he was doing a gallery reading. Last night, he was presenting his perspective on the afterlife to our HPH group. He was not doing readings. Before the meeting started, he and I and a few other people were on. We were just chatting and he stopped and delivered a message to me. I couldn’t hear it because of the background noise. It was something about his sensing me being a speaker and being asked to join another organization. Then, during the meeting, he interrupted himself and said that Shayna was coming through. But, he wasn’t delivering messages last night, so he let that go.

I asked him this morning if he could repeat the message he delivered to me last night and elaborate on what he heard from Shayna. This is what he said:

“She makes me feel that you may create your own organization or join another one in addition to this one, HPH. Be open she will guide you with your New Life choices. I like your daughter’s Energy… Strong, playful and compassionate. Trust what you feel and put your team together!”

What Jamie didn’t know last night, and didn’t know until after I asked him to repeat the message, was that I had an interview this morning and I accepted the job.

I just remembered. I have to give credit to Kat Baillie. Kat did a reading for me several months ago.  It was June or earlier.  She told me she saw me starting to get paid for what I do in September. At the time, all I could think of was the AREI symposium (the afterlife symposium in Scottsdale, AZ). But, I wasn’t sure if I was going to AREI, I wouldn’t be asked to speak there, and I don’t think they pay their presenters. It was all I could think of that could possibly happen in September.  I start the new job on September 12th.

Not all mediums are fakes, people.

In tonight’s adventure, I’m a helicopter pilot. My recurring dream is of driving cars. Either I can’t control the car, I can’t see or both. A helicopter, this is a first. Tywana and I have just been on vacation and we’re flying a helicopter back home. I’m flying it. She’s supposed to be my co-pilot.  It’s night.  I’m flying low.  I remember flying over a ski resort and seeing the ski lifts.  She’s on the telephone the entire time instead of helping me navigate, but I make it to the airport where we are supposed to land.

Then, I remember, I am a new pilot. This is my first solo flight. And I’ve completely forgotten all my training. I know I’m supposed to look at the altimeter and the instrument that shows whether I’m level or not, but I cannot remember where they are or how to read them. I can’t recall how to control the altitude. Do I push forward, or pull back? I’m flying strictly by feel. I panic for a moment because I don’t know how I’m going to land this thing. Then, I remember I somehow took off and flew all the way here. I should be able to land it.

I start searching for where I’m supposed to land. I have no clue. I look over at Tywana. Now, she’s passed out. Something with the altitude. She’s got altitude sickness. I’m going to have to do this on my own. I use my headset to call for help. But, I can’t remember my call sign or the protocol for talking to the tower. After sending out a short message, I decide to just try it on my own.

I’ll put it down wherever I find a spot. They can move it later. This is life or death. I’ve been circling for a while trying to make a decision and it dawns on me I’m probably running low on fuel. But, I can’t remember how to read the fuel gauge.

I come in for a landing. It’s nice and smooth. I try to wake Tywana. She’s really out of it. I get her to her feet and we start walking away. Dad meets us in the parking lot. Then, we remember that in all of the excitement we forgot to get our luggage off of the helicopter. We start walking back. I wake up.

Sometimes it’s just all too much. We wonder why me, why now, how much more am I supposed to take? I’m on Facebook and I see my cousin’s daughter posted a picture of her and her son with the simple status update “feeling angry”. I wonder what’s up. Tanika has been doing well. She’s just had a successful surgery and lost over 100 pounds. Her job seems to be going well. Then I see a cryptic post from her daughter. I piece it together. Something dreadful has happened to Tanika’s son, Savonne. I don’t know the young man. I might have met him a family reunion.  He looks vaguely familiar. My heart goes out to Tanika. Her son, just 25 years old, has made his transition, suddenly and unexpectedly. I know that pain. My heart is broken, again.

I wait a couple of hours and then call my mother, my go-to for family news, she tells me what she knows. Savonne has overdosed. Just a few days ago, his mother had posted a picture of him in the ER where he had gone for a broken ankle and foot he sustained in a fall. He was scheduled to go in for surgery tomorrow. There will be no surgery. His body has been found.

I wait a day to call my cousin- his grandmother. She’s such a distant cousin, I couldn’t begin to tell you how we are related by blood. But, she’s just a couple of years older than I am and she and my mother were very close. We grew up together, so she’s as much of a first cousin to me as any of my others. I flashback to last year when I had to make this same call. You see, last year, her granddaughter, Yazzie- just 16 years old, made her transition due to a previously undiagnosed disease. In a matter of days, she was gone. I called Buffy and tried to give her comfort then. I had no idea what to say. Buffy and I don’t talk often. We haven’t spoken since I made that call. But, I have to call, even if there are no words. I pick up the phone and dial nervously, wondering if they’ll come and what words will come. How do I talk to her knowing she is experiencing this again, her girls are experiencing this again?

She tells me the details, as much as she knows, surrounding his passing. As I said, I didn’t know the young man. It sounds like he was somewhat troubled, but he was a sweet mama’s boy. They call him Little Savonne. Due to an ongoing investigation and respecting the family’s privacy, I won’t comment on the circumstances of his passing other than to say my heart was ripped apart as I thought of the things his mother, aunts, grandmother, and sister must be thinking. There are so many questions surrounding the circumstances that they don’t know. “Did he die alone? Was he scared? Did anyone else have a hand in his death? Was he calling out for his family? Was he in pain?” I want to tell my cousin what I know. The answer to all of the above is probably “No”.  I want to tell her the story of the medium who connected with a woman being driven to her murder. She saw it all through the woman’s eyes. While in the back seat being driven to the place where she was to be murdered, she looked up and saw an angel who motioned her to come with her. She left her body and avoided the trauma her body would go through. I want to tell her of all the NDE stories I’ve heard of people who have left their bodies before the moment of death, watching the whole thing from above with mildly interested attachment to what was their body. I want to tell her that, according to Swedenborg, no one dies alone. At the very least, there were two angels to meet him. I want to tell her that the moment we leave our bodies, we don’t care what happens to the body any more than we care what happens to a coat we give to Goodwill.  But, my cousin is a traditional Christian. I don’t know how she will receive any of this, so I sit with her feeling the pain of uncertainty she feels until it overwhelms me. Why are these tears in my eyes? Why is my voice cracking? I talk to parents going through this every day.  Why is this touching me like this? It’s been a rough week I guess. I feel a lot of emotions welling up in me and they have to get out, now.

I quickly get off the telephone. Her granddaughter has come over with her newest great-grandchild. This is my excuse to get off before I lose it. It’s just too much for me to hold in right now. I let it go, the tears are flowing. Tywana comes into the room and thinks someone else has died. She asks if it’s Kayla, is it Grammy, is it Poppy?  She doesn’t see me crying like this every day. I have to compose myself enough to get out the word ” I just talked to Buphenia.” It’s all I can get out right now. I can’t speak. I’m feeling her pain right now. I’m feeling Tanika’s pain, I’m feeling Tonia’s pain as she relieves the loss of her Yazzie along with the loss of her nephew Savonne. And I feel Buffy’s pain watching her two girls go through losing two of their children. All of my knowledge can’t take away their pain. Their pain is coming through me and I have to let it out.

Savonne’s family doesn’t have the money to cover the cost of the funeral. They have started a GoFundMe. As of this morning, they are about halfway to their goal.  If you can donate, even a very small amount, it would be most helpful. Many hands make light work. Pennies, add up to nickels, to dimes, to dollars. The link is here: https://www.gofundme.com/savonne-jr039s-memorial

I would say Rest In Peace, Little Savonne, but I don’t think Little Savonne is resting. You see, what else I know is Yazzie was probably there to meet him. I know the spirit world knew several weeks ago that he’d be coming. I know he’s probably met Buffy’s mother for the first time- his great-grandmother. I know he’s healthy and whole. And, I know he’s watching over his family and will be at his service where they will honor his short time here. And, I know he’s trying to bring comfort to his mother, his aunties, and his grandmother right now.

I’m not great at complimenting people. That’s an understatement. I suck at it.  Just ask Tywana. My family of origin shows our affection by firing zingers at each other. I’m good at smart ass remarks. I tried to break that cycle with the girls, telling them I love them every night.  Shayna would say “You don’t have to tell me you love me all the time.” But, I’m glad I did because I never wanted her to doubt how much I cherished her, even for one second.

When a sibling transitions, the child left behind has a particularly hard road. They see their parents devastated. The parents’ grief might make them feel like they aren’t enough to make the parents happy. In the case of Kayla and Shayna, best friends, I cannot imagine how Kayla must have felt when I made that phone call to her to tell her that her best friend, her biggest cheerleader, her soulmate had slipped away during the night. Kayla had to fly home on an emergency flight from South Carolina. I remember picking her up at the airport and the look on her face when our eyes met as she silently asked me “Did this happen?”. We stayed up late that night in the kitchen both trying to wrap our heads around this new life and I truly worried for her safety.

Fast forward three years. Kayla has blossomed into a young woman. She was 18 when Shayna passed. Kayla will be 22 in just a few weeks.  She has a boyfriend, Gabe, that she met shortly after Shayna crossed over. Kayla went right back to school a few weeks after that dreadful day. She later changed majors realizing that she wasn’t passionate about what she was pursuing.  In just a few weeks she’ll be finishing her last year of undergrad work.

I am so incredibly proud of Kayla’s strength in the face of this. To have gone back to school to continue her education, to carry on at all, is a monumental feat. I know it hasn’t been easy for her. Yet, she gets up every day and does what needs to be done.  I see phenomenal strength in her, and it’s growing all the time. She still has that connection with Shayna but I know she misses her “little duck” being here with her to share her life. I love that we can still talk about Shayna. I love that Kayla still comes to visit us because I worried whether she’d want to be here where she and Shayna grew up together mainly since we’ve sort of turned the first floor into a shrine for Shayna. I thought she might be creeped out by all the pictures and the mementos, but she’s been very accepting.

Kayla has always been a gentle soul. Her personality reminds me of my cousin Joan, sweet and patient. She’s excellent with children. She has taken her first job taking care of kids- a part-time au pair, and the kids love her. She’s become more adventuresome, drawing inspiration from Shayna. She’s become more assertive. I see her confidence growing. She has already done great things, and I know she will do amazing things going forward.

I have been blessed to have two amazing girls and a partner to bring them through and to help raise them. Shayna would always want me to say that she was my favorite. But, I honestly cannot say either of them is. We had different relationships. Shayna was the one I’d toss a football with or play video games with for hours. Kayla and I share a love for the same music, old movies, and having late night deep conversations. The picture for htis post is from the Evanescence/Lindsey Stirling concert a few weeks ago. Kayla wasn’t a huge fan of either band, but she wanted to go with me and we had an amazing night.  How many 57-year-old guys get to share a concert with their daughters?

Shayna has gone ahead where she guides us, ever part of our family. Kayla, Tywana, and I have to be here hands and feet here until we all meet again.

 

These butterflies are pretty uncommon in this part of Ohio, but I’ve been seeing them the past few days.  This one followed me for a while on my walk.

Today, I’m having a talk with a good friend, one of many people in my life who is helping me along the way. I’ve been blessed with meeting some incredible people since Shayna’s passing. He’s an extremely busy person, but he takes time to talk to me. I’m telling my friend about the sermon I heard at Unity of Phoenix over two years ago.  I remember it so well. The title was “It’s Hell In The Hallway”. The hall refers to the time/space we are in between the time when God closes one door and opens another. I refer to this sermon constantly. I’m sure I’ve written about it. I know I was meant to be there that Sunday. I felt like I was in the hallway then and I’m still in the hallway now. He and I toss around ideas for the business. He’s a published author and gives me encouragement on my writing and advice on how to get to where I want to go with it. He’s a phenomenal medium and tells me about a reading he’s done recently just to give me encouragement this spiritual stuff is real and it’s all going to be OK. Just as I’m telling him I have to go because I have a friend picking me up for lunch, I look out the window and see a butterfly playing in the yard. The butterfly is the same type that was following me a couple of days ago and landed in a tree right next to me where it stayed while I approached it and touched it. I tell him about it and I hang up the phone with no silver bullets for anything but feeling encouraged that I can do this and gratitude that I have the assistance I have along the way. I go out into the yard and shoot some video of the butterfly playing. After our conversation, I have more baby steps to take, more things in my action plan. That’s all I can do for now. I go to lunch, come back and chip away at my to do list.

When I turn in for the night, I am exhausted more than usual. I didn’t sleep well last night. The pressure has been getting to me. The frustration is building. At least when I’m asleep, there is some escape. I quickly fall into a deep sleep and find myself in a familiar dream.

I’m in an airport. I’ve just gotten off of a plane. I’m looking for my luggage. My luggage doesn’t come around the carousel. It’s lost. I remember it’s a gigantic black bag. I also remember that I arrived at sometime around 2 o’clock in the afternoon and that my flight out is at 5:45.  I know I’m in Detroit and I know I’m flying to Cincinnati. This is all very odd because normally in my traveling dreams, I have no idea where I’m coming from, where I’m going to, or what time my flight is. I don’t realize it’s a dream though. I am frustrated in the dream because I cannot locate my luggage. I also don’t have a ticket for my next flight. I’m trying to find an agent to help me locate my luggage and buy a ticket but the lines are very long and I can’t get to anyone. Time passes and my flight is leaving in about 45 minutes. I still have located my bag, still haven’t bought the ticket. I look up and all of the agents lined up behind the counter are elderly, at least in their 80s. They’re also all on a break. They are just sitting there talking amongst themselves while the passengers are lined up in front of them, frustrated. I make a comment about my frustration, saying “I can’t believe no one will help me find my bag and get me on this flight. To my surprise, one of the agents overhears me and jumps into action. “Can you describe your bag to me?” I tell her it a gigantic black bag with a name tag on it. Several of them go into a back room. They come out a few seconds later with my bag. They sell me a ticket and I’m going to make my flight.  Then, I wake up.

The commonalities in this dream and my others are I’m traveling and I’m frustrated. But, I know where I’m going, where I’m coming from, and I even have some sense of time. This is new. Please let this be a sign that a door is about to open.

This is a profoundly moving song with multiple levels of meaning. I discovered it today and have listened to is several times.

One of the things that have changed about me since Shayna’s transition is I take each day, each event, as a lesson for me. If a situation is presented to me, there’s something in there for me to learn. I try not to miss the lessons. Human nature is fascinating to me.  Humans have always fascinated me. When I was younger, I subscribed to Psychology Today, a magazine about psychology for non-professionals.

Being a leader in Helping Parents Heal is one of the great blessings of my life. The online group is over 3,500 people now. We have added 3,000 people in about 15 months. It has grown exponentially. We’ve added 500 people in less than four months. Three thousand five hundred people who have experienced the worst possible thing that can happen to a parent are gathered in one place. Everyone there has been in pain or is in pain. The only reasons to be there would be because you’re in pain or you’re a Boddhisatva. With all of those hurting people with raw nerve endings, I would expect there to be a lot of conflict and drama. Amazingly, that’s not the case. The four leaders who started out leading the group are all still in place 15 months in. We’ve had no major conflicts, hardly any minor conflicts. Among the members, I think we’ve removed less than five people in that time and mostly for fake profiles.  Very few posts or comments have been removed.

When you have 3,500 people, no matter who they are, some conflict is inevitable. Recently, we had that. Someone made a post about their personal experience and how they had not experienced anger after the passing of their child. Their point was that anger is a choice and we can choose not to be angry. That claim triggered serious anger from parents who had experienced anger and did not see it as a choice at all. They felt they were being judged. Ironically, then the person who made the initial post felt judged and angry. Several comments later and the person who made the post removed herself from the group saying she had been bullied and no one had come to defend her.  Ironically, of the leaders on the group, I was the only one to comment in the thread, trying to play it down the middle. As a group administrator, I have to be Switzerland. I can’t take sides. What that got me was a tongue lashing from the person who made the initial post. She felt we didn’t back her up, even though I did support both her and the other people. When I responded by telling her I would not take her criticism of me personally, she called me an “ass” and asked me not to speak to her anymore. Isn’t it ironic how a conversation that started with her talking about not being angry ended with her leaving the group and insulting me on the way out?

This is what I’ve learned. Often when you remain calm in the face of misplaced anger, people take your calm as being dismissive of them. If you don’t take their anger personally and reflect it back to them, they feel like they haven’t been heard. I heard her. I acknowledged her feelings, but I wouldn’t get personal with it. It’s a no-win situation. You can respond in anger and escalate the situation. Or, you can respond in love and they get even angrier.  I choose to let people be angry alone.

Then, a couple of days ago, my friend Susanne Wilson posted her thoughts on whether suicides and murders are “soul planned’.  She believes they are not. Soul planning is a hot topic in our group. Everyone wants to know if all the bad things that happen were planned. Why this is so important, I don’t know. One of our group members, a teacher who has a blog, believes that everything is soul planned. This would include suicides and murders.  Some believe that most things are soul planned, but that we have free will, the ability to veer off the course we set. For some reason, many of these people believe suicide would never be planned.  Murder would never be planned. They do, however, believe addictions are planned, sickness is planned, mass accidents are planned. They make exceptions for these two types of exits from life. It’s not my intent to address that in this post, my point is a couple of people got very upset with Susanne for saying this. If Susanne doesn’t believe their child’s suicide was planned, that means their child went off of their plan and the parents take this personally.  One mother even questioned why Susanne is part of Helping Parents Heal since this was obviously such a flawed thing to teach. This teaching is so offensive to her, she seems to think Susanne has no place in our group. I have to say Susanne has dedicated countless hours to Helping Parents Heal.  She has taken a lot of flack from hurting parents about silly stuff like using the word “dead” in her book and in her presentations. (Remember, we’re a bunch of hurting people we can be hypersensitive). I’m not a moderator on Susanne’s Facebook page. So, I could offer my opinion and I came to her defense, even though I don’t necessarily agree with her teaching on this topic.

The thing both of these situations have in common is the people who read the initial comments, the comment from the mother who didn’t get angry after her son passed and the comment from Susanne about her personal belief about suicides and soul plans, is that the person reading the comment took it personally. They felt as if the person making the comment was judging them and their individual situation. Someone else’s response to the death of their child somehow reflected on them.  A teacher’s belief about soul planning, was seen as a judgment of their child. And, they allowed this to make them miserable. I know Susanne.  I know there was no judgment at all in her comment or in her beliefs, quite the contrary. I don’t 100% agree with her conclusion, but it’s only her conclusion.

I was reminded of the Four Agreements. I’ve never read the book. I probably won’t. Why muddle up such profound simplicity with more words?  One of the agreements, my favorite, is “Don’t Take Anything Personally”.  If we could all do that one small thing, we’d eliminate 95% of the conflict in the world. Two of them were violated by these people. And it’s so easy to do. First, they assumed the intent of the person making the comments. They assumed they were judging others, felt superior, or both. Second, they took it personally. If their son died by suicide, he screwed up his plan. If they got angry, they weren’t as good as the person who didn’t get angry.

This morning, as I was walking, I was listening to a podcast. One question asked was “How often do our loved ones want us to visit their graves?”  I could answer this without listening to the podcast. They don’t care. They are not hanging out at their graves. They are with us wherever we are. Interestingly, the podcaster started by saying he hadn’t been to his father’s grave in quite a while because he lives in Maine and his father’s body was buried in Massachusetts.  But, he went on to say that more people are having their loved one’s remains cremated and keeping the ashes at home or scattering them. And, he thinks this is a mistake. People are going to miss having a place to visit if they don’t have a cemetery and a grave to go to. These people who have had their loved ones’ bodies cremated are wrong and will regret it. I was flabbergasted. I started talking back to the guy right there on my walk. I thought about writing an email to him. “It’s silly to have a place to go. What if you move?  You said yourself our loved ones aren’t there. If we just need a place to be with them, why not an altar like I have in my bedroom. We had Shayna’s body cremated. Do you think we made a mistake?”  I had all my arguments ready. I felt the need to justify my decision, for a split second. Then, I thought about it. This is how it happens. I disagree with his conclusion. I made a different decision. I’m happy with my decision. Why should I care what he thinks? I had started to take his decision personally. Then, I let it go. He won’t get an email from me.

 

Hush now don’t cry
Wipe away the teardrop from your eye
You’re lying safe in bed
It was all a bad dream
Spinning in your head
Your mind tricked you to feel the pain
Of someone close to you leaving the game of life
So here it is, another chance
Wide awake you face the day
Your dream is over
Or has it just begun?

There’s a place I like to hide
A doorway that I run to in the night
Relax child, you were there
But only didn’t realize it and you were scared
It’s a place where you will learn
To face your fears, retrace the years
And ride the whims of your mind
Commanding in another world
Suddenly, you hear and see
This magic new dimension

I will be watching over you
I am gonna help you see it through
I will protect you in the night
I am smiling next to you, in silent lucidity

Visualize your dream
Record it in the present tense
Put it into a permanent form
If you persist in your efforts
You can achieve dream control
Dream control
How’s that then, better?
Dream control
Dream control (hug me)
Dream control
Hug me

If you open your mind for me
You won’t rely on open eyes to see
The walls you built within
Come tumbling down, and a new world will begin
Living twice at once you learn
You’re safe from pain in the dream domain
A soul set free to fly
A round trip journey in your head
Master of illusion, can you realize
Your dream’s alive, you can be the guide but
I will be watching over you
I am gonna help you see it through
I will protect you in the night
I am smiling next to you