Had a very long and detailed dream about being in the Witness Protection Program that it’s enough for one entry by itself. I took notes when I got up so I wouldn’t forget anything. It was one of those nightmares that wasn’t. Something bad happened to me, but I didn’t dream that part, fortunately.

I was supposedly home alone and it must’ve been closer to the city if not in the city because I could order a pizza there. With the pizza box in my hand, me not expecting it and it happening too fast to defend myself, the guy punched me harder than hard in the forehead. I was knocked out instantly and then raped and beaten for hours, so I would learn when waking up in the hospital.

Then I was at the police station, which had a Witness Protection Program that housed people like me upstairs. It was sort of like a hotel, though the rooms only had beds and bathrooms. You had to use a community kitchen.

Although the guy responsible was downstairs and in custody, he had friends on the outs working for him that the cops feared would hunt me down and kill me so I couldn’t testify against the guy, who I guess thought left me for dead and not just unconscious.

I was forbidden contact with Tom or friends in case the cock’s buddies were listening in.

Different officers hung out with me, then this cop (Officer John Teton? Tenon?) was assigned the job of “babysitting” me. I guess hiding in the rooms by ourselves above the PD wasn’t enough.

Although I wasn’t the least bit attracted to the 6-foot guy who was a little overweight with a bit of a gut, hazel eyes, brown hair, and a mustache, which I suspected was attracted to me, I found him to be a super nice guy. We had lots of intelligent conversations. At one point I expressed what a nightmare it would be if the perp broke out of his cell, knew I was upstairs, then came after me.

“Well, if he does I’ll shoot him for you,” Tenon said.

I gave him a smile that basically said, thanks. Glad to know you’d do that for me.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to certain sickos responsible for screwing me in another state and I asked Tenon if he’d heard about it.

“Just bits and pieces,” he said, “I’ll check it out later.”

“After you read what they said happened, check with me and I’ll tell you what really happened. The cops and media bought everything the so-called vics said without verifying anything first, if it was even verifiable at all.”

He nodded sympathetically and the next thing I knew, it was nighttime and we headed to our room for bed. I didn’t like that the room had just one bed, but I didn’t feel threatened. I was too tired to really care anyway and fell asleep fully dressed, facing away from Tenon.

Sometime in the night, I awoke to the bed shaking and Tenon chanting, “Why does my head hurt so bad, why does my head hurt so bad…?”

I got up, flipped the light on, and found him rocking back and forth on the edge of his side of the bed with his hands holding the sides of his head, obviously in excruciating pain. I waited a few minutes, but he kept up the slow rocking. “Any better?” I finally asked.

He shook his head. I stepped toward him and he started to talk. I cut him off and said, “John, I’m a psychic influencer and dream premonitioner, but you have to be quiet and let me do my thing.”

Instead of laughing or telling me I was full of shit, he quieted and gave a quick nod. I placed my index and middle fingers on his forehead as he lay back against the pillow, and concentrated really hard.

A few minutes later I said, “It’s gone now, isn’t it?”

He nodded and smiled. Then he jumped off the bed. I thought he was nauseous now and was going to run into the bathroom and puke. Instead, he reached for his phone and told whoever answered that I was “psychic as hell.” He said it with an I-found-gold kind of excitement.

Then he hung up and told me we were going to be moved closer to the perp to see what I could pick up from him.

“Why don’t you just take me to beat the living shit out of him instead?” I asked.

Instead of an answer, Tenon told me to hurry up and gather my stuff. Then he led me to an area where two corridors crossed. There was a bench, which I sat on by a couple of elevators. The bright lights hurt my tired eyes.

Tenon asked how I learned to do that and I told him that I didn’t. “It’s not something you learn, but something you one day realize you can just do. There’s no instruction manual on how to be psychic that you can just run out and buy, Tenon.”

Tenon turned to talk to some other officer and I tried to imagine Nane’s reaction when I could finally email her about the situation. Then a tall skinny black or mulatto woman with short hair that wasn’t in uniform walked by and said, “Come on.”

The dream ended with me following her and wondering if I’d ever see Tenon again. I shouted, “Thanks for all the card games,” but wasn’t sure he heard me.

This nearly 1,000-word dream was definitely one of the longest I’ve ever had!

Later…

The part of Walter’s message that I swear wasn’t visible yesterday magically reappeared today. I sent a copy to Tammy and Andy to check out, and I’m going to really wonder what the hell’s going on if they tell me they didn’t get it. Tammy’s got doctor’s appointments to deal with today, so she may not check in for a while. She said all she does is sleep. Poor thing.

I was recently telling my good friend Adonis that few blogs seize my attention, but one more did today. I guess my own blog, diary, journal – whatever you want to call it – snagged this guy Dorian’s attention because of my dreams and psychic experiences. So we got into a little discussion and I found his diary to be just as interesting and well written.

Tom says he really likes the idea of picking out a place around April cuz it gives us a chance to look at a bunch of places both cheap and more expensive. This way we’re not passing up something good by rushing into the first place we can get. By April we’ll have better credit and will have paid off our yearly bills. The car insurance thing is coming up soon. As he also said, if we find a great deal on a place beforehand, then fine. So if he and the dreams say April, then April it is.

Had to laugh when he said that by April the weather will be getting warmer and we’ll be able to judge how much activity there is around the place. Well, I can tell him about the activity cuz I know what it’ll be like cuz I have common sense. It goes like this: No one indoors when it’s not too cold, hot or rainy. Everyone must be outdoors landscaping, gardening or just enjoying the fresh air. There must be as many pedestrians as in the mainstream or close to it and most must be accompanied by a mutt.

At least there won’t be any kids or loud car stereos.

Besides, we could move in next to ideal neighbors that turn around and move a few months later and are replaced with trouble. It’s happened before. So what you see isn’t what you’ll always get. It just depends. All I know is that the bastard above loves to sic the wrong neighbors on us. So if they aren’t already there, I’m sure He’ll bring them to us at some point. That’s just one area in life God loves to torture me with. I still don’t fully believe He’s done beating us over the head with money either. I think He’ll find a way to get it out of our hands sooner or later. Clearly, though, our lives have been nothing but uphill overall since that miraculous job call came in September of 2011. It’s hard to believe God would suddenly decide to be so nice to us. So then what is being so nice to us and keeping God at bay? It’s like something made a deal with Him to leave us the fuck alone.

When Tom and I were talking earlier I was telling him how I’d never guess him to be with someone like me if I was a waitress that waited on him regularly or was a coworker or something like that. because he’s so kind and mellow I’d picture him to be with some shy, quiet, mousy woman who was quite ordinary. You know, “normal.” Because opposites don’t usually attract and people want duplicates they can relate to, I’d never guess him to be with a nutty, eccentric, feisty person like me who has so much trouble doing what comes so easily to most, and an easier time doing what most struggle with.

Later…

Sometimes I think of returning to Ask and not allowing for anonymous questions for a year or so. After all, Kim never harassed me there with a regular account. Molly may ask things, but I could just block or ignore her. She’s crazy but not Kim crazy. She’s also not afraid to contact people out of anonymity. Well… I’ll think about it. Maybe that would be better than eventually going from not there at all, to there and allowing anonymous questions. If they see me there for a long time without allowing anonymous questions, they may assume I’ll never allow them and not bother to follow me. I decided a while ago, though, that I don’t care if they read my blogs. And so what if they see pictures of our future home? It is only pictures. They won’t know where it is because I don’t post addresses online or any links containing addresses.

I’m not going to put this part online any more than the thing about Ask cuz Tammy said she didn’t tell Sarah everything. Her breathing tests were worse and she’s basically got two options. What she’s got isn’t curable so one option is to remove part of the lung that’s been giving her problems, or take some IV cancer medicine, as she put it, and begin the long road toward a possible lung transplant.

Ugh! Just ugh! Vengeful bitch at times or not, indirect hand in making my life hell for years or not, what a shitty thing to have to go through. Back when I had that dream that she died, I didn’t think she really would die, but I knew trouble was ahead. You can’t be like me and have a dream like that and not expect trouble.

Another thing that can’t go in public, or that I should at least “whisper” is Alison’s reply to my witness protection dream. She said: Coincidentally, just last night my mom called to ask me if I know a John who used to be an Omaha cop but now works in the criminal investigation unit of the FBI. I do, but I don’t know the last name (because I have very little to do with that department) and I don’t know if he has any ties with Witness Protection. Still, sometimes, Jodi, I swear you and I are, in a way, the same person. Very detailed dream, though!

It is really weird!

Last night’s dreams only consisted of Aly winning a Pulitzer, and some friend committing suicide. I don’t know who the friend was, but I was standing over their grave and saying, “I’m so, so sorry God gave you more than you could handle,” and went on to say what a bastard He was for it, how I’d miss them, and so on and so forth.

I know that how much money one makes isn’t necessarily a true measure of success. Quitting smoking, losing weight and getting fit is a huge measure of success right there as are so many other things in life. But sometimes I still feel as unaccomplished as I am accomplished. I feel like I have nothing to show for my efforts and that no matter how many languages I learn or how many stories I write, I will always be a failure of sorts. Does everybody feel like this at times?

How is it that I hate beer as much as I do for its nasty, bitter taste, yet I just love beer-battered products? Beer-battered fish and chicken rocks! And I just love how the rats get all excited when they smell me cooking. It’s so cute how they beg for whatever I’m making. We were all playing yesterday morning, and today I let them out to run around after Tom left. Sugar’s so cute the way he jumps and climbs all over me. Romeo mostly prefers to explore the vast, cavernous space under the futon, LOL.

I wish it would rain more here, but I have a feeling things are going to be very dry while we’re still here so the Jes pest can be outdoors being a pest. First I heard him buzzing around on the ATV, then loud vehicles coming and going, then banging. I don’t know if they were car doors slamming or him throwing things into a bin or something. I just know that it was too much from one person and too much to be hearing down here. Then again, how am I to know he was alone? Meanwhile, I’m sure that in a few hours when it’s warmer and lighter I’ll have to hear about whatever project he’s working on now. Too much rain gets depressing, but it sure would be nice if it could rain once or twice a week. The lack of summer rain is okay because then it’s too hot for the cock to be out as much. From now until June, though, he’ll live outdoors.

Make sure you give us outdoorsy neighbors with tons of company in the next place too, God. Oh, and be sure to set their mutts off on the way in and out with them and have them bark out of open windows – the ones closest to us – and make sure any visiting kids are screaming like hyenas. And don’t forget to maybe have a pipe or two burst under our street so I can listen to them digging up the road. Ooh, and how about having next door renovate or get a new AC or something like that? Of course, if you really want to be nice to us you could have the players involved be batshit crazy. That’d really be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it be, Mr. Enabler?

Later…

OMG, this is sooo fucking funny! As I have so shamelessly written in all my journals, I was once framed by a crooked cop when my husband and I launched a city complaint against some welfare bums who once lived next to us and were personal friends of his. This landed me in jail for 6 months and I was eventually vindicated, and well, it’s a long story I could go on and on about, but I won’t.

Well, for a brief time in February of 2001, one of the worst cellies I ever had was a then 29-year-old girl named Nancy. She had a great body but a hideously ugly face. She was in for drugs, assault, and I think absconding, too.

The “toothless wad of acne” as I’d refer to her when she’d piss me off, really scared the shit out of me at one point that the detention officer on duty had to move me to another cell. It was too bad that Nancy turned out to be such a shit too, cuz other than her crazy, insane, unfuckingbelievably frustrating and even scary moods, she had a lot of good qualities. She was smart, she was mature, she was liberal, she was a good singer.

But Nancy obviously had a guilty conscience and plenty to hide given the fact that she was incredibly paranoid about the fact that I was keeping a journal and documenting every single experience I had at this jail from the inmates to the officers to the food to the living conditions to everything.

One day she totally flipped on me, and I mean flipped. She thought she was having a miscarriage when two tests confirmed she wasn’t pregnant, and decided to take it out on me. Not just by being a bitch but by threatening me. I’ll be the first to admit that Nancy could’ve kicked my ass, and God only knows what she’d have done had the DO not passed by when she did. Even if I could’ve kicked her ass, I still didn’t have the luxury of doing so because then I would have lost my visitation and commissary privileges. So it was a no-win situation either way.

She and Myra, in for child molestation, were the worst. For a week or two, they tormented me to no end with their mouth, taunts and threats, though it was always done through cooling/heating vents other than the first time Nancy threatened me as well as to tear up all my journals. Even after I was put in my own cell they continued to make their little threats, Nancy demanding the journals be turned over to her, Myra promising to shut up and leave me alone if I’d quit announcing to the whole pod what she’d done to her kids with her BF.

As most of you also know, I’ve been dropping or changing last names and slowly posting old journals from the 80s on up along with my current everyday stuff, and was going through the day Nancy ran me out of the cell and saw that I’d written that she told me she had 3 boys in Indiana. So I looked her up on Facebook and MySpace and found her in Indiana. I couldn’t resist contacting her and slipping her the link to the journals she has wanted so desperately to get a hold of for 12 years now, LMAO!!!

I know some would consider me vengeful and childish for dropping the links on her, but I just couldn’t resist, hahaha. Sometimes sweet old-fashioned revenge really is fun and good for the soul so long as no one’s being hurt and so long as no laws are being broken. Worst-case scenario Nancy’s just not too thrilled with reading what she reads if she really does read the journals. But hey, she should’ve thought of that beforehand, right? Then again, I knew her in 2001. Who could’ve known we could one day share our lives with the world at just the click of a mouse? LOL

Something up there must really want her to see these journals too, cuz I was able to “like” things on her page, share her profile, and even follow her. This way, if she doesn’t get my messages, I should still have her attention. Yeah, we may forget those we threaten, but they don’t forget us.