Laura’s Muses

You probably thought this was going to be a Halloween post, didn’t you? Well, unfortunately, it’s not. Read on anyway.

Here and there over the past year or so, and more frequently in the last few months, I’ve been having nightmares. Not to the point of waking and screaming, or ghosts and goblins or anything like that. It’s more of a…. spiritual attack. Usually there is some kind of “presence” in the dream that I try to stay away from. The “presence” is truly terrifying, although I can’t ever pinpoint exactly why I know that. When I am near it, my mind changes. I think awful thoughts, and I want to do awful things. I know, even in the depths of the dream, that it’s not ME who is thinking these things, but it’s completely out of my control. Usually, I spend the dream running from the police because I’ve murdered someone, and I sob uncontrollably when I realize that I’ve done it. I know I’m not capable of doing it; I have only done it because I was possessed by this presence.

Sometimes in the dream, I haven’t committed a crime. For example, last night’s dream about a painting. There was nothing “wrong” with the painting, but I knew this presence was in it. I tried and tried not to look at it, but eventually I did. These images started flowing through my brain, like ocean waves, building in intensity until I couldn’t take it. I would break visual contact somehow, pulling at something deep down inside me to do so. In another recent (and recurring) dream, the presence was at the bottom of a set of stairs. I couldn’t see anything, but I could feel it, like a very heavy blanket of anxiety and deceit. When I would get close to it, my head would fill with thoughts about God, how it is wrong to follow Him and how I really didn’t believe anyway. This internal struggle would begin, where I would try to shout out the truth, that I DO believe in God, and I would NEVER turn away from Him like that! I would become so terrified that God would hear these thoughts and turn away from me forever. Usually, thankfully, I wake up immediately.

Spiritual warfare is REAL. Am I experiencing it? Hmmm, that’s tough to say. On one hand, I think some of my true anxiety and guilt over my sins work their way in to my subconscious and overflow into these kinds of dreams. On the other, one could argue, Satan himself might be using my guilt to work against me. I have always had vivid dreams, so it’s not unusual for me to be tormented for days over a feeling I had in a dream. Again, on the other hand, this may be a convenient way for Satan to reach me with the least resistance.

I need to learn that I once I’ve repented of sin, it’s time to let it go! This unnecessary guilt is just leaving the door open. Then, I can spend my time in a positive and uplifting way, by reconnecting with God through prayer, studying His Word, and worship.

Photo Credit: Evil Soul by Al-Fassam. Some rights reserved.

The cat was already there, the flowers were added yesterday. It REALLY hurt.

As most modified (i.e. tattooed, pierced, branded, what-have-you) person will inevitably tell you, body modifications are addicting. I really hate being part of that stereotype because I’d like to think that it’s possible to get only one, possibly long sought-after, tattoo or piercing and be content forevermore. In my personal experience, however, this is not the case.

Previously have I been the proud owner of at least seven different piercings, including ear cartilage, my right nostril, tongue, navel and some others which weren’t quite as…visible. Following the lineage of my self-inflicted holes, you can almost see my courage grow and my tolerance of pain increase although some hurt terribly and some hardly pinched–the which-were-which may surprise you, or maybe not. I digress.

I have since retired almost all of the piercings for varying reasons, but I loved each of them and still terribly miss some of them. Each empowered me in it’s own unique way, and I proved to myself over and over that I could face the fear of pain and overcome it. Once a piercing was in place, it was always a long internal debate over removing it once the time came. In example, the tongue piercing was a complete pain in the ass, but I was so proud of myself for doing it (I was literally terrified of the thought of a needle passing through my tongue!) that it took weeks for me to finally accept that it just wasn’t right for me. Plus, it was becoming so grossly “main stream” among young females that my personal reasoning for the piercing was getting lost somewhere in the public stigma of it, and the assumption that I did it because it was the “cool” thing to do. Conversely, the nostril piercing felt so natural that when it fell out one night during my sleep, I cried when I realized the hole had grown over by the next morning.

My parents were none too happy about my foray into the world of the more temporary modifications, although for some odd reason my first (but hopefully not only) tattoo, or permanent modification, was happily accepted. I sometimes wonder if my open-mindedness towards “mods” in general didn’t open the door for my father, mother and sister to permanently alter their own skin under the tattoo needle with little, if any, hesitation, as currently they each boast at least one tattoo of their own.

Getting back to the title of this post… it’s been almost four years since my tattoo, and in that time I’ve retired piercings but have added no new mods. For awhile I felt I may have been satiated, or even that maybe I had “grown out of the phase.” After all, most jobs won’t allow them to be visible, and even today-as main-stream as it’s becoming society honestly doesn’t treat you quite the same if you have visible modifications as if you don’t. However, my itch is itching again. I’m starting to feel…boring. Plain. Something on the inside wants to be showcased on the outside. The way make-up makes a girl feel pretty, or even more substantially, the way painting a picture can make you feel like you created something beautiful; a piercing or tattoo released those emotions in me. A piercing can bring that extra element, that missing piece that helps me express my individuality. A months-long search for the art that tugs at something inside me, inked permanently upon my skin can bring that release that has built inside, waiting to be shown to the world. To me, it shows my true personality, more than clothes can, or make-up, or a hairstyle. When I look at it, it reminds me that I am confident of who I am on the inside and that I overcame the pain, and the fear associated with it, and that makes me proud.

I have some current ideas, although I will patiently pray about it before commiting to anything. I’m truthful and honest when I say that I have no idea what the Christian standpoint is on the matter of body modification but I will definitely do much research before making a final decision.