Then I said and it just came to me, “you know we’re creating each other, don’t you?”

No. I didn’t know that he retorted. That was the last I heard from him about the matter. Nothing was created after that except for some flashing images of being knifed in the back seat of a car. Over and over until I could look at it without wincing.
So much for romance. I wanted to tell him so much when I met up with him in this life,  but my little bits and pieces went round and round in my mouth, indigestible and to swallow them meant I would vomit. In a positive sense, which I tried to be, it was all over, over even before it could begin. I barely knew I carried an emotional weight around and about. Such was divine providence to not know too much.

  I wanted to say we had to create something new now, that we couldn’t bring the old into the new. All over the world we were the same as the others. Living and dying the same, no matter what type of death came. We were the creators of the relationships due to our thoughts about building one. HERE! Here we built what we built, made what we made; here was objective reality. There, was a mix of past and future, a subjective climate of continued learning and exploration.

In this place I call There, there was, such as we wanted to return to, when it was good, light and friendly, where we played as children knowing there was nothing but safety. We were closer to God over There, I had no doubt about that.
Here, we were the builders. There Travis was sometimes one jump ahead of me. Here he was lagging behind; exposing what went on in the ethers as factual and as a future event when it wasn’t that at all, my mentors knew and had told me there was no such thing as a destiny set in stone, there was no planned event which rode roughshod over man’s free will and the way man had of making new decisions mid-stride due to further data on the project.

 It was also the past he saw. I could never make him understand the good times were not a given; they had to be created while we were in flesh and by now my mind was far too blown by what I’d seen and heard to even begin to think of what could be. A Course in Miracles could never actually give you a miracle. You had to actually ask how to make it yourself and maybe all it took was faith in the long run. I would not be allowed to speak of all I’d learned. I’d have to suffer in silence. I’d have to lean on God harder then I’d ever thought of leaning, objective reality or not. In my dreams the guides therein shouted for me to call 911. For Travis. Calling 911 meant calling God.
Dam if I couldn’t find the telephone. And I couldn’t find Travis’s higher self either.

I’d lost all ambition and desire and others frowned on my demeanor while continuing to bombard me with questions about the secret of life and death; unless they understood the answer was in my silence. Then we just knew. Then we just enjoyed that silence together. Despite all the confusion, the ups and downs, some river of knowing was flowing swiftly, softly by, gurgling sounds of peace and tranquility and whispering of this faithfulness to God and brethran. My tears only made the river stronger and my raging pointed to illusions of grandeur.

We had to make our own marriage vows, in our own words and forget this pledging your troth thing, which Mike and I heard, disbelieving at the alter we were hearing correctly.
Mike, my beloved 2nd husband pledged nothing of the kind and I was complacent in his company, never suspecting I was supposed to take him there, where he wanted to go which he never spoke of but I could see this was so, according to his unwritten relationship protocol carried by his weary of life countenance. I loved him but he crimped my style. I had to move on when my suggestions to get counseling were vetoed. Again, none of the couples I knew seemed to be able to hear each other, what we were really saying underneath the words.

 Regarding the murder dream, I knew later, I was viewing the collective suffering body of womenkind. For men, in their minds manufactured the shoulds and should nots of a woman’s role in society. Just as women may have done the same, but in this dream, I was to look at how a man’s ego down through history has viewed the woman’s role, and that perspective explained the issue of rape and murder which assailed the prevalent notion of the weaker sex. Of course women were not weaker, in muscle mass perhaps. Women were always after equality of the sexes and it still wasn’t happening in this time on a mass scale, or if it was, it wasn’t happening fast enough for me. To illustrate my point, there is no such thing as a man’s collective suffering body in phraseology.