Adult Indigo Bio - Adragon

Adragon

People have wondered at my email name, as dragons generally carry negative connotations (and maybe I'm subconsciously asking to be slayed, wouldn't that be interesting, eh?) and I've left the unnappealing nickname up there in a casual kick of not going by appearances.

Dragons have been appearing around me lately, everything from my dentist's illustration of a dragon cleaning a dragon's teeth to a dream of a dragon two nights ago (a large white one outside my door who wasn't keeping up his part of a deal).

(snip)

I've only had two recurring dreams in my life, one when I was a kid about flying on a broomstick, always the same fun(ny) obstacle course of stairs and rivers and things, and one of huge tidal waves. Except this one isn't really recurring as much as it is pervasive. (Floating with others near drowned skyscrapers was a very early one, surfing, walking along the edge of a beach trying to balance, in the water with other swimmers and by myself, in a boat...) I read a few days ago that dreaming of tidal waves means fear of being overcome by emotions. Still, I've even fantasized and written an article about it. And Saturday at the renn fest I saw a print of an armored man on a flying dragon in which I instantly saw a tidal wave. I read that dreaming of dragon(s) means a deeply spiritual personal message. In that light (though less clear), I've often wondered about the significance of that imagevision I once had of a dragon falling asleep because it was by itself for so long and another dragon coming by and leaving while the one is sleeping, and the other waking again unknowing--and the deep pain I felt about it for days. Also the only words I could put to a feeling that same early spring that I had a dragon flying in my veins.

(snip)

What it comes down to is dismissing my personal life as unrelated, diminishing the pathway that it is for higher, global understanding. Artists being people who otherwise get told they take everything too personally, are obsessive. Except I'm not an active artist most of the time, maybe it's really the indigo thing of feeling more creative than other people. Unclear. While I'm on the (me) subject, I've always loved watercolour and pencil and charcoal, that you can smush around. I'm not highly talented, but I wonder sometimes at the was my un/subconscious can manifest itself, almost eerily. I consider my highest personal little writing accomplishments to be the creation of poetic elements I create by saying nothing--that is, by being the perfect tool.

a perfect tool, adrienne

--oh wait, I'm not finished, here's an example, a little joke punch I haven't gotten to express to anyone (does anyone get it?):

a loud poem

arm eye touches light

?




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