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Sweet Dreams Are Made of This — Poppy

The coffee grounds once again came up with a doozy this morning!

So with my inside eyes I see fields of gold. (Like in the song.) I’m like, ok, go on. So I keep letting myself see the fields of gold and then suddenly I see…a single bright red poppy living within the fields of gold, waving in the breeze! And I know that’s me. I think “ah so that explains it all,” and chuckle and go on my way.

As time unfolds I notice more and more just how apt the image and the feelings it provoked were. The fields of gold, the Germans; so blonde, so rich, so peacefully uniform. And how they made me feel; so secure, so safe, and yet occasionally so “well that’s a lot of one kind of being here, and I am not one of those beings, although they make me feel great.”

Of course a poppy isn’t the same thing as wheat / straw / hay / whatever those useful golden grasses are, and of course a poppy won’t evoke the same response in others, and of course a poppy is getting exactly the kind of “what in the world is that / wow / huh” from the wheats, and of course trying to make a poppy do what wheat does simply isn’t going to work…and on a darker side, simply by being Poppy, some poppies create mind-altering addictions in things that are not poppies; some nonpoppy beings use part of Poppy’s essence as a drug….

Be who you are. Everybody else is taken.

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