Dear Soul:

Today I had a very strange dream. Usually I forget them, but this time I can remember it very well. It connects my family to the boy I love, maybe that’s why. But it was strange. The boy I love was living with us. I was in my parents’ room, and I wrote a post to this same blog about a traditional celebration in which he was with my family, they were at the countryside talking to the people of the village and celebrating with them.
I posted an entry here talking about this, with a picture of him and my old niece Sara, who’s only one year younger than him. They were sitting on the extreme sides of a long white table on the grass. It was a very sunny day and they seemed to be happy. I was posting it at the same time I was moving objects with my mind. Do you know what telekinesis is? I had this ability in my dream, and I could attract every object to my hand just by thinking, in a very easy way.
I was excited about it cause I was improving telekinesis and I wanted to show it to him. Then, I started to wonder why I didn’t try to come closer to him before, since I liked him as much as I do in real life. I proposed myself to talk to him nicely and approach him, first I could talk about the post of the celebration to break the ice and maybe he wanted to speak with me.
I was very happy thinking about how close we could be, but suddenly I realized he was about 4 or 5 years old, like my little nephew. It was very strange cause in the picture with my old niece, he seemed to be more than 20, like her, but suddenly he was only 4 or 5 years old.
So finally it was impossible to flirt with him cause he was only a little baby boy. My happiness faded away in a few seconds, but it was very strange he became so young so suddenly.
In my dream, he knew all my family: parents, sisters, nieces, everybody. He was a foreigner, though, like he’s in reality- he’s from South Korea, so I planned to speak in English to him.
In the picture with my niece, I remember he was so happy and bright like he usually is.
It was a really frustrating dream though. It’s been some time since I didn’t remember a dream so vividly.

I could watch him without approaching him. Frustrating.

Dear Soul:

Today I’m gonna tell you about my brother. He was 13 years older than me. I never had a strong connection with him, cause when I was very young he yelled at me, and then he went to the University, living far away from our home.
He liked computers. Right after finishing his University Degree, he started a little company with an old classmate. This company was about making websites for another little companies. Back then, internet was starting to be known by normal people, and a lot of people wanted to be there. I am speaking about 2000 year, more or less.
He had a very tender girlfriend back then, but they split. His first girlfriend was called like me, but they split when he started University. This second girlfriend is who appears in the picture I will show you, on my left side. My old sister is on my right side, next to my brother. The boy over us is a little cousin. The picture was made in a little trip we made together to Madrid. I hide their faces cause my brother is very strict with privacy, and if he knows I am writing this, I should not give their names, neither their faces, or he will get angry.
He got angry easily. My father was very calmed, but my brother needed very little to fire his nerves. That’s why I barely talked to him. We have opposite personalities. It’s like mixing water and oil. You can try your best, but it’s almost impossible. You will never get something homogeneous.
He married his third girlfriend. I guess he yells at her too, because his son told us this during a dinner. “Mum cries when dad yells at her”. I cannot be very sure cause they seem a very connected couple, but my nephew said this and I know it fits with my brother’s personality.
I had fun with him when I was very young, once upon a time he told me a story. But he said that it was true, and I was deceived cause when I grew I realized he was lying. He told me he found a witch next to the house my family had in the countryside. This witch invited him to her house, and he said I would be able to meet the witch when I was older. I’m still waiting.
My brother was always very close to my grandfather and my uncle. My grandparent died when I was 10 years old so I couldn’t meet him properly, but my uncle is still alive and... OMG. My brother is very close to him. They dismiss women, gays and lesbians, people from Portugal, young people- my brother did this even when he was young, too. They only have fun when dismissing others, with a kind of jokes I never found funny. The kind of jokes hurting someone, sometimes very much.
Like I said, my brother and me are like water and oil.
Caring about people and treating them nicely is “mimo” for him. “Mimo” is a Spanish word I don’t know how to translate. It’s like the tenderness you use with a baby, something exaggerated sometimes. For him every little kindness is too much. I don’t know how it’s possible he always had a lot of friends. Well, his friends were mostly savage people like him.
Another curious fact about him is that he cannot be fine with more than 15 Celsius degrees. He always says it’s very hot. Even inside his home, he never heats it more than 15C, at least this is what he says. I like warm temperatures so he was always dismissing me because of that - among a lot of other things.
My brother is the person I only kiss in the cheek before a familiar lunch, and I don’t talk to him again till the kiss of goodbye- in Spain we kiss family in the cheeks to say hello and goodbye, it’s not something to be scared about like in other countries.
My brother is the person I cannot understand, even if I tried very hard. He’s there, with his things, and I’m here. Living always separated and far from each other is the only way we can be peaceful with each other. He wouldn’t hurt me and I wouldn’t answer in an angry way, or feel very hurt and shut up myself. I don’t understand how can he be happy the way he’s happy, if he’s happy. But I know he should think the same about me. In the end: I know my brother exists, but I don’t want to be very close to him. It’s self security. Just for surviving.
Till the next time. Greetings!

Little Marta & company 

Dear Soul:

Tonight I’m gonna tell you about my mother. She was the person I connected the most in my family.
She hadn’t an easy life. She was run over when she was alone in a foreign city taking care of my brother and sisters. She almost die sinking in the river. She had to take care of a lot of old people in my family, my father, myself and my brother and sisters. Everything at the same time.

She was the most blamed of us. For everything. Every little mistake was very awful if she was the one making it. My father was always forgiven, but my mother was always blamed. If the food was not delicious, if she spelled wrong a word, if she forgot about some stupid thing...

She said she would die before causing problems to other people. She wanted to die when she was not useful for the rest anymore. But she was always necessary cause somebody had to cook and clean the house, and of course guess who. Besides, the daughter of my sister is very young and she’s often sick. My sister works many hours so guess who cares about the little girl. And my brother has a son and a daughter too, he doesn’t live in this city but when he comes the weekend... Guess who cares about the lil monsters. I have to say that me, as a good aunt, also spent a lot of hours taking care of them. But I don’t live in that house anymore so I conquered my own freedom.

I deeply connected with my mother. She was interested in writing poems, drawing, swimming- I used to swim a lot when I was 15 -. She was also interested in spiritual and growing issues. Since I was young, she had magazines talking about ghosts and UFOs. Mysterious and paranormal things. I liked these things a lot, even when I didn’t believe neither deny them as I said, till them became too obvious. I used to walk with her in nature, talking openly about everything we could not talk to my father- he was a very catholic man.

Anyway, I don’t want to be like her. She lived denying herself just to please others. And she usually was very rough. She slapped me with no reason like she was doing kick boxing. Twice. I still remember. One of them was because she was frustrated cause I didn’t help her to please the priest of our neighborhood. He came suddenly when I was sick, and I said to my mother I didn’t want to see him cause I was sick. She slapped me endlessly because of that. The other time was because she wanted to please an old aunt who blamed me for something I don’t remember. She slapped me several times in a row. My mother barely slapped me, but when she started, she couldn’t end.

As I said, she wanted to please everybody. So it was not difficult to connect to her. Besides, we had a lot of common interests. But she wants to please me at the same time she wants to please others, and sometimes this is not possible cause we’re two parts going to different directions. She would always choose my father, my brother and sisters, my nieces and nephew over me. To make me please them, too. She said once I was very very young I should not mess with my old sisters, cause I would always lose. I felt a bit frustrated cause for me it’s not a matter of who’s more powerful, but a matter of justice. But my mother is very hierarchical.

She was not specially delicate. She used to hurt me a lot when brushing my hair, for example. She was very clumsy sometimes and I preferred to do things by myself than messing even more or being hurt. One funny thing about her is that she could look at you with only one eye. You spoke to her and she had the half face looking at you while the other half messing in the fridge, for example. I laughed at her “don’t look at me with chicken face”. Cause chickens also look at you with only one eye. She also had a strange nose when she was angry. This was very funny, too. I told her “don’t be so angry” and she said “I am not angry”, with the nose of a very angry woman and a big fake smile. Well, maybe the smile was not so big, but she tried really hard. She also damned the mother who brought me to life. “But this is you”. She didn’t understand.

My mother was a very original person. She could damn you and say “I love you” the following second. I didn’t know if she was true when damning or when she said she loved me. I suppose the last part, cause she’s my mother. She had a very strong emotional intelligence. As she was blamed all the time for everybody, she developed the capacity of not feeling blame for anything. She always blamed others and she was at peace with that. I really envyed this capacity. I used to feel very guilty about everything, even though I changed a lot and I barely blame myself anymore.

Well, I think it’s enough right now. Tomorrow I start working again so maybe I don’t post till the next weekend. Greetings.

Dear Soul:

I have told you about my father. I don’t wish my future husband to be like him, so I will write this post to tell you how I want my future husband to be - in case I marry someone.

First of all, he has to be very respectful. I mean, not like “adoring me” but I don’t like him to make fun of me all the time. It’s fine if he does this sometimes, but not with the purpose of hurting me or disrespecting me. If it’s just to have fun, it’s ok, but if it’s to humiliate me, I don’t like it.

Second, he has to be loyal to me. He would be the one for me so I should be the one for him. He should not “have fun” with other women, you know what kind of fun I’m speaking about. I’m not jealous, but I wanna be the special person for him he would be to me, too.

Third, he should be responsible. If I make love with him and something “goes wrong”, I want him to take responsibility as a good father. I am still virgin cause I have not found someone like this, someone who can be to my children the father I would have wished. I don’t ask too much: just don’t deny his children, don’t hurt them, taking care of them imwhen I’m exhausted... This kind of things.

Fourth, he should help me at home. I don’t mind if he’s the one going to the supermarket and I am the one washing clothes, or if he washes clothes and I go to the supermarket. But home tasks should be shared between two of us. I find it’s not fair to live in the same home and only one caring about having it all cleaned.

Fifth, I want him to be capable of listening. I would listen to him, but he has to listen to me too. I don’t like him to be like my father, always wanting to speak but never to listen. He should not be aggressive with me, not yell at me.

If he’s like this, everything else can be forgiven. Nobody’s perfect and, if we can talk to each other, I am sure we can solve every problem coming in our way.

If he’s cute and good looking like him, it would be a wonderful paradise 

Dear Soul:

Today I’m gonna tell you about my father. He’s an important figure to explain why my family and me are like this today.
First of all, the accurate word is “father”. Not “dad”, or “daddy”. These words are too soft and you should feel tenderness to speak like this. He was my “father”. He was working all day. I only watched him at lunch- lunch is more important than dinner or breakfast in Spain, it’s the main meal here - and at night, like an hour or less before going to bed. He worked in the morning and in the afternoon and evening. Sometimes, when I was about 5 years old, he went with me to my school after lunch.

These were the greatest moments I spent with him, when I went to school. He was by my side and we talked together. We ate chestnuts in our way to school, in the autumn. We took two or three after lunch and we were eating them in the street. He was not angry back then.

My father was working all day cause we didn’t have a lot of money. He used a secondhand car, and I used the old clothes from my sisters. One day, the father of two of my friends invited me to go to school in his expensive car. My father was so happy, inviting me to go there with them. I cried, cause he was so happy cause he didn’t have money for a car like that one. I rejected it. I said I wanted to go walking with my father. He was always by my side to go to school and I felt like failing him. He didn’t look very happy but finally we went together walking, as always. The school was 10 min. walking from our home.

Nevertheless, I cannot call him “dad” or “daddy” cause he was so distant. He looked like angry all the time when I was a child, unless when we went together to my school. My brother and sisters said he hit them with his belt when they were children like me. After coming home to have lunch, my mother said “Father is coming, father is coming” very worried, like she was scared of him.

I don’t remember exactly why, but sometimes I wondered how my mom could marry him. She was all day taking care of us, not only the children in the family but also the old people. She prepared meal for us, she was the one helping us whenever we had a problem, she was tender (sometimes, she was not a specially tender mother). She was always there for all of us, and I didn’t like how my father treated her. He was very cold with her, even when she gave always her everything to make him happy. Even forgetting about us. She cared a lot about my father, but he ignored her.

I remember I was very angry because of this, even when I was very young. Then, my father started to change, specially when he was old enough to stop working. He became more friendly, I could even say my mother and him were like a normal couple back then - even when they were fighting all the time, but they were closer to each other.

My father was very boring. When he started to talk about something, he kept saying the same for hours. You could even go to the bathroom and he followed you talking about the same, saying the same he was saying before. If you went to the bedroom, he entered with you, standing at the door and talking. You could not do anything unless listening to him repeating and repeating the same things. When he was with my brother, they only talked about wine. How they were caring about the plants giving grapes, the time of making the wine... This topic all the time. Sometimes, they talked about a traditional celebration in Galicia in which people of a family kills one pig to eat during all the year. Also about another typical tasks of the countryside, but it was mainly about wine.

My father didn’t like to celebrate things. All people should be serious people, focusing in their works and how to earn money. He was distant, boring, he never cared about how you were really, he was like a mask of a sacrificed father. My mother always says he’s very worried about how I am, that he would be very happy if I call him, but the last time I called him he was as distant as always. It’s like she’s talking about a completely different person, like she cannot see who he really is.

I mean, if he’s not the perfect sacrificed caring and loving father she says she is, the world will not end. But at least, she should not deny the truth. He’s like he’s. Nobody is perfect. It’s ok if he’s not the perfect father, we are not perfect neither. He hit my brother and sisters with his belt, this is not what a caring father does. I would not like to marry someone like him.

Dear Soul,
Before telling you more about my childhood, I will speak about extraterrestrial life. Lately I’ve been thinking very much about it. Are they here? What’s their purpose? Are they messing with us like dead people do? Do they want to help us?
It’s a very strange topic. When I was about 4 years old, I watched an UFO. It scared me and I ran into my bed to cover me with my blankets. It’s something that should not be there, something unknown. Nobody believed in UFOs when I was a child, at least not logical people. Only crazy ones who went to talk shows on TV dressed with very strange costumes and they looked like a spectacle. Scientists and people like this, they never believed in UFOs.
This was in my childhood. I believed in Catholic Church and I went all sundays to pray and listen to the weekly ritual. I felt very guilty when I didn’t go there. They said you’re a bad person if you forget about God and I also prayed every night before going to bed. My mother commanded me to do so, and my school was a religious one, too. We also prayed in the morning before starting classes, and some special days we visited the church of our neighborhood. We also had two little churches in our school, one separated and decorated like an ancient one and the other was more like a praying room inside the normal school. After this school I went to another one which was catholic, too. They said God created everything, and he’s pure love.
I believed this so hardly. They said the worst thing that can happen to you is forgetting about God, but God will always be there waiting for you if you lose yourself and you want to come home again. So I started to not believe that much. I thought “I cannot say God is true cause I cannot watch it, but because of this same reason I cannot deny God, so I will not believe neither deny him”. I read a very famous book then, “Conversations with God”. This book says that you’re creating your own reality together with God. It was a very empowering book, I liked it very much. It also spoke about life outside of the Earth, it said they are our old brothers and sisters. I started to believe in extraterrestrial life, in that moment. I started trying to create my own reality too, cause the book gave very interesting clues about how to make it.
At the same time, I started to be different than people around me. My mind started to think differently than them and I had to switch my thoughts: when I was with them, I thought like them. When I was alone, I explored my reality on my own.
I started to search about UFOs, reading a lot of New Age information, following very important figures there, I tried to expand my mind. I reached a moment when it was the same as before: “I cannot believe this cause I cannot see it, but I cannot deny it because of the same reason”. Then, I watched strange lights in the night sky, at least three times. Maybe even more, cause I watched more strange things but I am not very secure about if they really were strange lights outside logical explanations.
Back then I already knew we are creating our reality, so I felt I was connected to them for some reason. Maybe reading a lot of UFO information prepared my mind to see them.
Then, I watched an interview to a man saying he’s talking really to ETs through the internet. I though in Spanish “ya están aquí”, which is something similar to “finally, they have already come”. I was believing very much in 2012 theories, that something spectacular will happen to Earth as people awaken and I thought this was the beginning. History happening in front of my eyes. ETs starting to talk to humanity.
Then I watched to the videos. I found the explanation to many things I couldn’t explain before, and even more. But at the same time, reality became so dark. I couldn’t believe certain things. I mean, I knew governments are thieves stealing us all, but I couldn’t deal with the idea they go beyond that. It was like the surface of reality started to split with the reality lying inside very much. At the beginning, when I was reading New Age information and that, I started to understand corporations and governments are crazy and pure liars. But now it’s like I only trust myself.
It’s like everything hides a dark intention, and you cannot act like everything is going right cause you will fall in their traps. But at the same time, you cannot act like everything is going wrong cause you will look like a very crazy person. So I just really believe in what I have in front of me, right now (if it’s not a human person with the capacity of lying). I can dream a lot, but in real facts I only trust myself watching what’s in front of me in the present moment. Everything else can be real too or fake.
I don’t believe, neither deny. I let life show me the truth as time passes by. I need to do this to survive. I don’t attach myself to any idea anymore, cause everything I believed was falling.
People were such a liars. They are lying all the time, they say one thing but they want the opposite. They always want to use you for something but they cannot tell you openly so they lie, and lie, and lie. Usually, they don’t want to use you for something good. But they want you to trust them even when you’re watching clearly they only want to abuse you. It’s so crazy. I don’t rely on anybody anymore. Only in myself. In my Self: my Soul.
I wonder how things really work outside of this. At this point, I feel there’s extraterrestrial life out there (in fact, I watched UFOs) but everything is under layers and layers of lies. Who they really are? What do they really want? What are they doing? How much do they know about us? Will we be able to meet them in the future? Do they have expectations from us? Why are they here? It seems there’s a lot of them visiting us. Some reason should have leaded them here.
I feel I am knowing less everyday. Even the certain things, which I took for granted, I don’t believe them anymore. I don’t know what’s about to happen, but I feel things are changing so fast lately. Let’s see what happens. I trust my higher Self is taking care of me. I really experienced it so many times. Maybe this is the only thing I really believe. When I feel confident, it’s like sun is shining more brightly, and I find the things I am searching for. When I hurt my finger, for example. I do nothing at all, and the wound heals alone. There must be some positive force ruling us, ruling it all. I cannot deny it cause I watch it with my eyes, so I have to believe it.

Dear Soul:

I will tell you about my childhood. I was very sick when I was a baby. My mother told me I almost die. My p*ssy was very delicate and it got red easily. It still is today. I often have wounds there, it itches me very much and I have to be very careful when I wash it up. My mother said that, thanks to her and how much she cared about me, I was saved. She said she was changing my diapers all the time to protect my delicate skin.

It’s strange cause she’s not that delicate. I don’t remember this, but I remember once I was worse of my skin problem. I had liquid all over my back, and she was covering it with bandages. She was very clumsy hurting me all the time with her nails and I had to ask her to stop and I put all the bandages by myself. I was a teenager when this happened.

As I was saying, I almost die when I was a baby. My mother said doctors put a lot of tubes in my head, and it was a pity to see me like this. When I was growing, I started to feel better. Even though I kept sick. My mother said the doctor taking care of me was so dedicated, and she didn’t want anybody else to touch me unless her.

My skin problem was the worst sickness I carried on during my childhood. My family was always searching for healers to recover my skin. I visited a lot of them, and a tried a lot of remedies. Some of them hurt. I took baths in miraculous waters and it was worse. After drying my body, I went to the living room to play a basic video game of putting pieces together. It was relaxing. Cause my mother said I looked like a cat in despair- it’s said cats don’t like water, that’s why.

A lot of things happened in my childhood so maybe I write a saga of posts just talking about it.
See you soon.