avatarFrancesca Gabrielle Bavaro

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gates</i> and <i>Bringing The Soul Back Home.</i> The problem for me was I was not listening to all the messages I received in my dreams. I wanted my outcome. I wanted to will the dreams to do what I thought I needed them to do, to communicate directly with him.</p><figure id="719f"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*MCgLX40NLqSHm_lf"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@melindagimpel?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Melinda Gimpel</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="f02b">Instead, he would appear as an energy body, almost anime in appearance. Or he would be on another side of a room I could never cross in time to talk to him. During this time, which lasted about two years, I could not stop weeping. I had boxes of tissues at work, at home, in my car, everywhere. Really, I became a weeping zombie.</p> <figure id="41bb"> <div> <div> <img class="ratio" src="http://placehold.it/16x9"> <iframe class="" src="https://cdn.embedly.com/widgets/media.html?src=https%3A%2F%2Fplayer.vimeo.com%2Fvideo%2F669512685%3Fh%3Db839d24421%26app_id%3D122963&amp;dntp=1&amp;display_name=Vimeo&amp;url=https%3A%2F%2Fvimeo.com%2F669512685&amp;image=https%3A%2F%2Fi.vimeocdn.com%2Fvideo%2F1356205419-356a2bb9e8167bf59878863b98ce5497a2e5947097a1f092ae9309e32d6d94cd-d_1280&amp;key=a19fcc184b9711e1b4764040d3dc5c07&amp;type=text%2Fhtml&amp;schema=vimeo" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="1080" width="1920"> </div> </div> </figure></iframe></div></div></figure><p id="67d5">In yet another frustrating dream, a woman sat down next to me and took my hand. She was wearing a pale blue dress and looked a bit like Cinderella’s fairy godmother. She said slow down and rest. In fact, I was exhausted. There is great power in surrender. I could feel an emptiness. It wasn’t until after the fact I realized part of my soul was gone. That was what I needed to find. My dream family was trying to help me all the time I was resisting.</p><figure id="5b97"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800

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/0*_5CXjFO1DqXbxv29"><figcaption>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@stephenleo1982?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Stephen Leonardi</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com?utm_source=medium&amp;utm_medium=referral">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure><p id="8084">Fast forward to my next dream. I saw him standing with a group of people across a crowded room. Instead of pursuing him, I sat tight, and lo and behold he walked across the room to me. He sat next to me and we could have a real conversation. These dreams continued for months and I am convinced they integrated my soul fragment that was left upon hearing of his death. It was an amazing healing experience. That’s a major reason I’m drawn to Ancestral Healing through dreams and divination. I’m sure they were there.</p><p id="2293"><b><i>Thank you for reading! I appreciate you!</i></b></p><div id="c98a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://vickietrancho.medium.com/"> <div> <div> <h2>Vickie Trancho - Medium</h2> <div><h3>Read writing from Vickie Trancho on Medium. Artist, Spiritual Technician & Dream Mechanic. Every day, Vickie Trancho…</h3></div> <div><p>vickietrancho.medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*opkoEOiOjLPIm1Ne)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="f347"><b>I’m adding Ancestor divination weekly. If you’re curious you can find them here. Thanks!</b></p><div id="3f6a" class="link-block"> <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/VictoriasOracle"> <div> <div> <h2>VictoriasOracle | Etsy</h2> <div><h3>You searched for: VictoriasOracle! Discover the unique items that VictoriasOracle creates. At Etsy, we pride ourselves…</h3></div> <div><p>www.etsy.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*PJZzyzOAxSRQSHsn)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

Never Forget: A Patriot’s Poem

Photo by Adam Wilson on Unsplash

You’ll never forget those apocalyptic skies, that sickly orange, a sea of toxic haze, the jarring sensation when smoke got trapped in the back of your throat, the putrid scent of your neighbors’ homes burning, as, once again, entire cities on the west coast are wiped off the face of the Earth

You’ll never forget the extremeness, the endlessness of it all, as the fires raged on for miles, as weeks turned to months, as our complacency turned to ash in your nose, throat, and mouth.

It seems a strange way to never forget those heroes for their courage on that tragic September morning when two hijacked planes flipped the whole world upside down. We honor their memory by demanding remembrance of their sacrifices, but remain silent as we watch the country they died for burn.

Poetry
Satire
Climate Change
California
Fire
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