Kindergarten. Playtime. Someone wrote a bad word on the basketball court wall. I glance around; no one is watching me. I pull out my crayon and change the word to something else.

A teacher catches me. I must explain myself to the principal; graffiti is wrong. I apologize, trembling with fear. I don’t care if I’m in trouble at school, just please don’t tell my parents.  Please don’t get me in trouble. I promise not to do it again, but I don’t really understand what I did wrong,

“I just wanted to change the bad word into a good word.”

Going to Church, I become a Duck. I splash and play in the puddles of the Truth, let their misinterpretations slide off my feathers. I revel in their beauty, their reverence, the obvious genuine love radiating. I feel hopeful, remembering I CAN do anything. Remembering my power and my grace, dipping into kindness. I feel the presence of angels, Raphael purifying. Gabriel says clearly, I am with you. Jesus asks, Wont you let me in?

Duck Me: playing in Daddy’s backyard pond.

While dreaming the following dream, I was actually doing energy work on myself with the support of spirit guides:

I’m leaning on the corner of a house/mobile home, and talking to someone about something pretty negative. My mom is there. She walks away, and I follow her, only to stop and call for her attention. There’s something wrong with me. It feels as if something is crawling on me, I show my mom my arm and there are a bunch of little white bumps (it looks like a gnat bite), but no sign of the bugs. I can feel them crawling in my clothes. I lift my shirt and see the tiny, crunchy black bugs crawling around the fabric and on my skin. I try to shake it out and mom wipes me off, but they are still in my clothes.

“Just take your shirt off.”

“I can’t!” Embarressed to be naked outside, with two men around. But I quickly realize that doesn’t matter. I whip the shirt off, followed by my bra, still a little conscious of covering myself. I take off my pants but leave the underwear on. I rush into the shower….  I feel disgusted to have these things on me. I get a better look at them– they’re not actually bugs, they look more like tiny crabs with a bug like exoskeleton. I could crunch them between my fingers, but I don’t actually want to kill them. I just want them off me. But they are pinching me and I need to get them OFF!