India & Dreams & a Visit to the Dr.

I remember the first time I went to an allergy specialist. I was 18. They did a scratch test on me & it was horrible. For those of you who are not familiar with allergy testing, a scratch test is where they place extracts of all sorts of potential allergens on your back & scratch each allergy infested area with a small plastic instrument so it infiltrates the top layer of skin. The doctor then leaves the room for twenty minutes to let the allergens work their magic. Now, if you aren't allergic to anything, this procedure is nothing more than mildly uncomfortable, but if you're like me, your entire back breaks out in red whelps & itches like the dickens for the entire 20 minutes. I suppose this is a step up from the previous method of testing in which the doctor actually used a small lancet instead of a plastic scratcher, but good heavens, I still itch every time I think about it. Oh well, though, at least now I know for certain that I'm allergic to almost every tree, grass, & animal known to man. How does a body come to the conclusion that it rejects its natural environment, I'm not sure, but I do know that mine has. Yesterday, it decided to show me just how much, but thanks to a wonderful miracle, I was introduced to the neti-pot via Rachel (aka: Rach-A cha-A), & my life has been made livable again. I'm starting to feel like an infomercial now, though, so on to the next topic.

Today at work I had a short conversation on the topic of dreams. Now, if knew me in high school, you'd know that I carried a small dream dictionary in my purse & I used it frequently to interpret the symbols in my classmates dreams. I believe firmly that our mind speaks to us through our dreams. The fears & desires we suppress in consciousness are made manifest in our subconscious & it is through these baser fears & desires that we can truly come to know ourselves & acknowledge the parts of ourselves that need changing. More than that though, dreams are often a means of communication with the Divine. I cannot tell you how many life decisions I've made as a result of sacred images in my dreams, but I can tell you that they have never led me astray.

Lately I've been fixated on the mystique of Indian culture. The colors, the music, the dance, clothing, movies. I just can't get enough of it. I, being the white blonde-haired girl that I am, can't help but wish that my skin were a bit darker, my hair a bit longer, my culture just a tad more foreign, or at least my clothing a bit more dazzling. At least I could hope for an accent. You know, I'm pretty sure I'm the only person I've ever met that was born & raised in the South who doesn't have the twang of a country singer. It's quite unfortunate, really.