the shaman was in my dreams again...
i have no name for him. it's an elder, and he's native american. he's shown up in my dreams before. and, if i'm not mistaken, at least one other time it's been when i smoked a particular herbal blend (crystal ball). it mellows you out generally, but if you smoke it just before a nap/bedtime, it puts you into a rather deep sleep.
and i dream about him. and various other strange things.
he was reading my tarot...showing me how to lay it out. how to read it. i haven't read tarot cards since college, and then only once in the midst of some sort of spike in my psychic energy.
i have some cards i bought for their aesthetic value, but i have no connection to them whatsoever. they have remained in the bottom of various dresser drawers since i bought them in, say, 1999.
there was other information i can't remember. i should have written it down this morning, but i didn't think about it until i emailed a friend.
he's always teaching me. telling me how to see patterns in my life.
his dress isn't stereotypical...i think last night he was in jeans and a button-down shirt. he has long, steel-gray, braided hair. and he's obviously of some kind of native/indigenous descent.
sometimes i think he's an ancestor. other times i think he might be the spirit guide i've taken to calling "adam", who i've never intuited any visual for.
in the next room, the new pope (god only knows why...i'm nowhere near catholic) who looks much younger than he should was waiting for me to finish with the shaman so he could do some kind of mediation between myself, my best friend, and another friend of ours.
...ok. that doesn't really make sense w/out the background.
the three of us were the three musketeers. except we were black & female. then life--not to mention marriages, babies, and some more shit--got in the way, and three went down to two.
so here's the pope and the three of us in a room, sitting on the floor going over our friendship and what went wrong...
i guess i need to make some phone calls.