An Apocalyptic Nightmare

I knew that we were in trouble in May when I was doing a National Radio show and the host asked me what my prediction for the 2012 Presidential Election was.

“Well, there are two things I don’t like doing so much – giving predictions and talking politics,” I answered, laughing.

“C’mon, Kristy, give us a glimpse into your crystal ball.”

I sighed. I didn’t have a crystal ball and I really didn’t like talking politics. I never followed one party over the other and if ever there was anyone impartial, it was me. “I see Obama winning, but it will go to the 11^th hour and be a close one.”

Click.

“Hello?”  I was astounded that they actually hung up on me.  

The last few weeks of constant political talk had me feeling out of sorts. I stuck to my prediction even when my husband asked me yesterday afternoon when it showed Romney up.

"You still sure, Kristy?”

“Yup,” I answered, my mind elsewhere, trying to avoid political talk.

Even Facebook didn’t gift me a vacation from it. The fighting and name calling was like recess bullying. I just shut the internet down to write.

Oh, I was, and am, grateful for the ability to vote, and I do vote, but I have always believed that in the end our votes don’t really matter anyhow.  Call me a Conspiracy Theorist or paranoid, however I do have a strong feeling (a psychic feeling?) that many of the so-called democracy decisions aren’t voted with a democracy at all - Big Brother deciding, perhaps.

Maybe this is why I had the nightmarish night, since waking up at 2:20 a.m. (Eastern Time for those that analyze that type of thing), I have had a difficult time shaking the dream/premonition, one that I have had several times over the course of six years, but this gave way to the feeling as if it was all nearing. 

Because I am intending on writing a book on this, I am leaving out many details, but the premise is still there.

“They are coming,” I heard my husband whisper to me. “We need to hide.”

I could hear the shuffle of men outside, on the street.

“What are they searching for?” I asked, swallowing the fear.

“They aren’t searching,” he replied, “They are taking us all.”

Before we could find a place to go, the front door was kicked in and a group of men dressed in military uniforms grabbed each one of us, chaining us to others of the same sex. We were being segregated. Large military vehicles were outside the subdivision where we were caged in, like animals. Before getting into the back of the barred vehicle, I could see every street going through the exact same process.  Thousands and thousands of uniformed men, grabbing men, women and kids from their homes and imprisoning them. We knew that we couldn’t talk, or else something bad would happen to us, and the silence was deafening as we awaited our fate, and the fate of our loved ones. It was only about thirty minutes and the vehicles stopped, the back door opened and we were taken like a chain gang to a large University where we were registered and given an implant in our left hand  and left foot with our number.

I tried to shake myself from the nightmare, but couldn’t seem to get out of it. Is this perhaps a past life, I asked myself. Maybe I was in Germany in the concentration camp. But I was answered by the lady who was in the dream with me. Her black hair pasted to her tear stained face. “No, this is 2014. Here and now.”

The bile again crept into my throat as I realized that what we thought was freedom, was nothing of the kind, only a façade, much like a movie set.

Over the loud speaker we heard an announcement that we were going to meet on the lawn, but would be shot dead if we tried to escape. We were released from our chains, and led group by group to the meeting place, a football field sized lawn.  I could see my husband and kids, each in a section with like kinds. I couldn’t find my dad, and felt in my heart that he was gone, and thought that was probably best. He was in a better place, while we would have to deal with this nightmare. The speaker came out, dressed in a suit, and thanked us for being there. As if we had a choice. Someone in the crowd screamed, asked what was going on, and he was shot.

I woke up to the gunshot.

This dream/nightmare/premonition never ever changes, but it has gone further than it did last night, with explanations of what will happen in the next year plus and hints of experiments in the past, from weather (storms) to medical issues. They always show me intense storms for the next year along coastal regions, as if munching away at the people, their spirit and psyche and thinning out the population.  Fires in the west and intense tornadoes in the Midwest in the summer of 2013. Those that survive the storms, the financial fall-out, the medical plagues – well, they become prisoners. Only I never see what happens afterwards to me, or the rest of the prisoners. I only pray that this is a nightmare.

___________________________________________________________________________

Note that this in no way a political view of one party over the other, and had nothing to do with who was elected (or not elected).

Hello Hollywood!! Goodbye Hollywood!!

My last few months have been insane! Between radio segments, print and radio interviews, television and the array of events, it didn’t surprise me when I ended up in the doctor’s office sick with walking pneumonia. He blamed the plane trip to (or from) Los Angeles. I blamed that along with lack of sleep for well over 30 days.  

When I received the call that I was going to be on The Ricki Lake Show, I went through a gambit of emotion, most of all nervousness. I only had a couple days notice and I couldn’t possibly have liposuction, or a face lift (oh, don’t think I didn’t search out feasible ways of doing this!).  I had my best friend who came over and helped me choose outfits (I had to bring several choices), a husband who was telling me that I was beautiful and to stop fretting, and another person in my so-called entourage negating just about everything else.

“Don’t bring pants that make you look heavier.”

“Maybe you should color your hair another color.”

“Umm, maybe I need to coach you on what to say!”

I was ready to scream and my insecurities played out even more. Instead of being a confident forty-something year old, I felt like a freshman in high school all over again. How was a chunky - err...curvy, red-headed Midwest gal going to do a National Television program and not faint? I didn’t know. First I had to deal with my fear of flying.  

The beautifully haunted Culver Hotel

The plane trip there went smoother than I could’ve dreamed, except for the hard landing that actually made the whole plane say, “Oomph!” But we were on the ground and ground was good. Trying to figure out how to get to the car rental place was a bit of a fiasco, but after almost an hour, we found the right shuttle, got a beautiful white beater up car (I was on a budget) and headed out to find The Culver Hotel in Culver City, California. 

We had been warned that LA traffic was a nightmare, but we didn’t’ find it much different than rush hour in Michigan, and definitely not as bad as Chicago traffic. Thank goodness for Mapquest on the iPhone, which made it simple to find our way.

The Culver Hotel is a gorgeous hotel and well known for being haunted, and for being the home to the many Munchkins as they filmed The Wizard of Oz. We were given our key to a top floor room and instructions on where to park (a block and plus away). Although it was only noon LA time, it was 3:00 p.m. our time, and we hadn’t eaten and had been traveling since 3:30 a.m. our time. We were exhausted. It was also our 6^th year wedding anniversary, so instead of napping like I really wanted to, we ran over to a Mexican restaurant where the food was good, but much different than the Mexican we were used to, and then headed out to see some of the sights. It was just a few hours later that both of us were ready to drop from exhaustion and we just headed back to sleep, the sun still high in the LA sky.  We woke up in the middle of the night to our hotel phone ringing. I answered, only to hear breathing. After no response, I hung up and called the front desk.

A crystal clear day!

“No, Ms. Robinett, there was no calls to your room, but this is a common complaint. We are so sorry your sleep was interrupted.”

Darn haunted hotels.

An hour later I was awakened to the noise of footsteps next to my side of the bed, and when I opened my eyes, I found the mirrored amour door opening.  I threw a pillow at the door and muttered, “Come back tomorrow night when I can talk to you – I’m tired!” Nothing else happened that night.

Both Chuck and I woke up at 4 a.m, which would’ve been our normal Michigan time, and did what every anniversary couple would do – played Words With Friends. No, really. That is until breakfast which was granola, yogurt and fresh fruit, and then a walk around town, and finally back to our car where we decided to go sight seeing some more. The show wasn’t until the following day, so we were pretty excited to have an entire day to just chill and relax, or at least try – I was still a nervous wreck.

Picture Perfect Venice Beach. No editing needed!

We made our way first to Venice Beach where they were filming a television show, then to downtown Hollywood – where they were filming a television show. And then to Rodeo Drive – where… they were filming a television show.  One of the prominent things that I took back with me from our sightseeing was that I was astounded at the magnitude of homeless people.  And how there would be a multi-millionaire dollar home right next to a slum neighborhood.  But, I have to say that everybody that we ran into was so friendly and polite – even the homeless.

We had a quick bite to eat for dinner, and then hung out at an outdoor café, drinking raspberry iced tea, and enjoying the breeze and California sun, and once again crashed early.

The studio was walking distance from the hotel, and Chuck and I walked over in the morning so that I could get my hair and makeup done, my wardrobe chosen and miked up. Everybody with the show was absolutely awesome – I can’t say enough about how lovely and friendly everybody was. As soon as I got into the studio, a gentleman came over and said, “You must be a Midwest girl – Michigan, maybe?”

I just laughed and nodded.

“I’m from Detroit!”

Small world!

Everybody with the show reassured me that everything was going to be okay, and they prettied me up enough where I started to feel confident. Until I walked out on stage. I knew I was doing a séance, but I didn't have a clue with whom, and I didn't know how it was going to work on cue. And I didn't at all expect that they would have celebrities at the table, one being a comedian. So while I was trying to do a serious segment, Loni Love, dressed as Honey Boo Boo’s mom joked and I had to roll with it. Thank goodness it went well (and from what I could see, nothing was edited out), and although I was shaking and a nervous wreck, it didn't look like it (I hope). In a blink of an eye, it was over and Chuck and I were hurrying back to the airport to fly home. Just like that.

On the plane ride home, I had a lot to think of, thanks to the lady next to me – the one person on the entire humongous plane who decided to leave her light on for the entire plane ride, and who drank wine and chomped on chips, making it impossible to sleep. Yeah, thanks to her, I had time to think about what my priorities were. The first thing was that you should never ever put sand in a water bottle and put in your suitcase. TSA doesn't like it. But more importantly, I pondered how I always wanted the Hollywood life. Or I thought I did. And although my time in LA was fabulous, I realized that I am a Midwest gal through and through, and proud of it. My nose is mine, my chunk is mine, my boobs are mine – there isn't a facade like a movie set, and I don’t want to change that (well, maybe some of the chunk). I am grateful for the experience, and grateful for everybody who helped me get there, but most of all I am grateful for the new found perception because without it, I might’ve been wishing on Hollywood stars that were put together with unglued glitter waiting to be blown away.

Believe,

Kristy

From Grudge to Gratitude and Pieces to Peace

“To be wronged is nothing, unless you continue to remember it.”
― Confucius

 

“You suck!”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“I am so disappointed in you.”

“You are ugly!”

“You aren’t at all talented.”

 

Those unkind words, and sometimes truthful words, can certainly hurt, but what hurts even more is hanging on to the words and that hurtful moment, as if they are ghosts of the past continually haunting you. By replaying it over and over, it becomes poison to your confidence, your self esteem and your soul and causes that grudge and a whole other array of emotion to play with your mind and your heart. It stops people from loving again, trying new things, and growing. Like a butterfly stuck in a mason jar, unable to experience the world, the more that you hold on to the grudge, the more you disassemble your life and your true purpose.

 

“Let today be the day you stop being haunted by the ghost of yesterday. Holding a grudge & harboring anger/resentment is poison to the soul. Get even with people...but not those who have hurt us, forget them, instead get even with those who have helped us.”
― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free

 

As we enter November, the month of gratitude, take the time to write out your list of resentments.  It could be that your biggest resentment is you, yourself. In order to make room for love, you need to remove the hate. Maybe you need to email or call the person you are upset with, just remember to not remove hate with more hate. If you don’t like confrontation, or they have crossed over, simply take out a notepad and start writing. You can burn the letter, releasing the bitterness and sadness. As you watch the smoke rise, think about all the hurt and anger being carried away within the smoke. With each breath you take, you release your hurt and disappointment. It isn’t necessarily forgiving or accepting, it is removing the coal from your hand and your heart. Instead of feeling as if you are in pieces, feel the peace that comes from letting go.

 

"Forgiveness is a sign of positive self-esteem. We no longer identify ourselves by our past injuries and injustices. We are no longer victims."

 

Believe,

Kristy Robinett