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Exquisite Reverie

This is the post excerpt.

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This blog is simply the power of one White woman dreaming. Dreams have power. We speak things into being all the time. Our wishes and our nightmares. We allow everything to unfold collectively through the power of dreaming…

 

I love the rain but…

I love the rain. I love falling asleep when it is raining. Hey TMI but I even love having sex when it is raining.

Whenever it rains though, for more than a few days at a time, I get a little claustraphobic.

I miss the stars when it rains for too long.

They smile at me, the stars. The Southern Cross, and the Magellanic Clouds. They dance across the sky. Things that can only be seen from this side of the World.

Sometimes when they look down at me, I actually cry. They are so beautiful. I can not describe how they make me feel.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Message to Australia by Kaspar Hauser….

Living in Chicagoland, one of the most “diverse” areas of the USA, I can tell you multiracialism results in hostile enviromemts! The Whites are often friendly, it is the nonWhites roaming causing havoc and terror. Some towns and cities are almost entirely no-go zones. It is not poverty, as certain all White areas are equal or worse in poverty than nonWhite areas and are safe for any race to walk and even live in. Australia, the whole world, will understand that it is a mere fantasy to live peacefully in a multiracial society.

Anger

Or thinking too much.

I thought too much these last few days, of a few dear people. It was like their shortcomings meant the world, and unfolded into my own life.

That was stupid. Their shortcomings are their own. To try and mean it mean everything and unfold into the present, is daft…

That

 

 

Libertarian Nonsense…

Elon Musk. Gates. Zuckerberg. Others. They all have one thing in common. They have spent their whole lives avoiding tax. Now they donate huge amounts of money (the money they should have paid in tax), to non White charities.

The three of them, are at odds with each other. One thing they have in common, is that they do not care about us. At all. They use the money they should have paid in tax to extend their own power. To remake the world in their own image.

And the images they dream of are horrifying. I fall asleep, hoping that I do not dream of them. Because then, my dreams turn into nightmares. The kind you wake up from covered in sweat, breathing shallowly.

 

 

 

 

Locally Owned Fish and Chip Shop

On the odd occasion when I feel like fast food, I steer well clear of the chain brands.

Tonight me and my flatmate decided to get take out. He is celebrating. He has scored himself a job. A really good job at that. After months of being unemployed, through no fault of his own.

He is not a big meat eater, but he ordered chicken nuggets and chips, because he knows that their chicken nuggets are much better than anything he could buy from KFC or Maccas. He also ordered a hot dog with the lot – onion, bacon, and cheese. Usually ‘bacon’ means chopped up bits of ambiguous meat. This came with a real slice of perfectly cooked bacon wrapped around the hot dog. Nice.

I ordered a hamburger. Ah burgers from fish and chip shops are so good, I wonder how Maccas et al are still in business. It was awesome.

I love my cat. My flatmate loves him even more. He asked me if  I wanted to go halves in a piece of fish. I was thinking ‘what the hell – you hate seafood’. He bought it for our cat. 🙂

I need to go grocery shopping, but I don’t need to do so tomorrow. I have in the fridge – a third of the burger I couldn’t eat because it was so big. Half a hot dog with the works. And a very generous sized piece of fish…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing Up in Fiji

Apparently I taught myself to read at the age of three, so that is a plus. We did not have a TV. As was the style at the time.

My parents were not paying attention at the beach, and I got swept out in a rip. A Tongan man saved my life that day.

Then there was the time I broke my arm. I still have the scar from when the plaster was taken off. For some insane reason, the guy with the scissors cut too deep. Two scars, both of them a hairs breath away from my main vein. I was lucky to survive the simple procedure of having the plaster from a broken bone removed…