The Arnold Dream Song Healing: Karma (Spiritual Psychology)

Definitely karma. Spiritual psychology or no, my spirits were low. Enter a healing song, dream sung by Arnold Schwarzenegger himself, the Governator. The healing power of certain dreams and of uplifting music are both well known, so I got a double hit of juicy goodness.

But wait. First, a bit of backstory.

In mundane terms, it’s been a rough winter for Pam and me, both at home in Montana and during our February trip to see her doctor in Arizona. Pam’s ailments are legion, but having me battling to stay on my feet makes things a lot tougher for both of us. My health had held during this monster flu season of 2017-2018 until February 8th…when I felt the first symptoms. Awesome. I was sicker than a roadkill eating dog in a very few days.

Thankfully, by the time we had to head for Arizona, 12 days had passed and I was able to function…barely. I seemed to be mostly over the flu, but weak? As Ed McMahon might have once said to Johnny Carson, “How weak were you?”

Answer: I was so weak that when carrying even a light armload out to the van, lactic acid would fire up and I’d have to change arms just to cover the distance of sixty feet. After returning to the living room, I’d then have to sit down for a minute to get my pulse rate back down under 100. After every trip.

Still, we left the driveway a mere two hours later than scheduled and (don’t try this at home) set a 1,325 mile land speed record to Sierra Vista, Arizona–simply because food repelled me so badly that while Pam had her own food in the van, I could not tolerate the idea of food, passing up our usual truck stop cafes and subsisting (barely) on homemade peanut butter rice balls. But I got a bit stronger during our time down south, finding my appetite, moving away from Death millimeter by millimeter. By the time we got back to Deer Lodge (Montana) and unloaded the van, I was feeling relatively okay. Not leaping over tall buildings in a single bound yet, but convalescing for sure.

Until the day after that, when the first symptom of the Arizona bug stopped by to say howdy. One of those tickle coughs that just never quits.

By this morning, that highly irritating cough had dwindled from “every few seconds” to “occasionally,” which is good. But the night’s dreams had been quite enough to take up the “nasty” slack. Too many to detail, but for example:

–Normally wisely wary of rattlesnakes, I charge the pair, grabbing one neck in each hand and killing both, but getting well bitten in the process. Fortunately, I sense I have some resistance to the venom to go along with my reckless determination and while there is swelling at the bite sites, it does not spread. Victory? Not quite. Between me and my goal there is a wide area that I now see populated with scores, possibly hundreds, of the diamond backed pit vipers. Charging them all with bare hands might not be the best move….

–On a cleft stick, I discover-and-carry a huge (12″ to 18″ long) queen wasp, dead I think but am not certain, swarmed by little bees (not wasps) who seem to lack energy but do cling to her and fly a bit. En route, there is also at one point an old, female Beagle dog in the carry mix, bloated and near death, but occasionally moving an eye enough to claim some hold on Life. Twice, things move to necessary, closer quarters for some unknown reason, pressing dozens of the bees between me and the bloated dog, yet I keep my consciousness clean and miraculously receive no stings. I finally let the cargo down, maybe not far enough from where I found it, who knows? But now I see through the great wasp’s eyes, and she is not dead. Not quite. “One makes plans as one can,” she thinks. She is able to find drink here, maybe even food, and I know she will recover.

Yeah, dreams like that will make you wake up with a smile on your face and a song in your heart, right?

Ri-ight.

So, things weren’t feeling all that bouncy this morning. Oh, I got up, bathed, ate, took meds, chatted with Pam, called in a couple of her prescriptions to the pharmacy, called a friend in Oklahoma, even thought about writing a bit more of the latest science fiction chapter.

Nah. Back to bed Take a nap.

And then, the Arnold dream song healing.

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THE ARNOLD DREAM SONG HEALING
(lyrics)

Arnold was singing near the trucks in the mud
I walked on over so I could hear the song good
The song he was singing, kind of mellow and low
Had true-sounding lyrics that sounded like so:

I loved my woman but the Governor didn’t love me
The Governor was her mother so the romance was brief

Others were laughing but nothing like me
I cracked up so hard that I fell off my feet
Face down in the mud between trailer and truck
Laugh like a madman, face plant like a duck

“Fred Baker just lost it!” I heard someone say
The joke was on me and I liked it that way

Arnold stepped back in view around the corner and then
Sang,

It’s a good thing I was not strong back then
For I might have stayed with a mother in law
Who ruled the whole state with an iron-fisted claw

The rest of the story never got to my head
I woke up laughing, face down in my bed
Grateful to Spirit all is not what it seems
A small bit of humor to balance my dreams

Each day has been tough for the past several weeks
Now the song sung by Arnold brings a smile to my cheeks

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And dat’s da name a dat tune. Once this is posted, I’ll be heading out to Butte, Montana, for the remainder of the afternoon, shopping at Walmart, picking up a few of the items on my sweetie’s endless To Do list.

With a smile on my face. Thanks, Arnold. You do good heal.