Jimmy Page

I have had three Jimmy Page dreams in three weeks.
I just woke up from one and can't shake it. The strange
thing about the dreams is that they are all similarly
mundane, but, at the same time really sexual.

Last week I dreamed I was his housekeeper.
HOUSEKEEPER! LOL. WHY? A sexual housekeeper?
This is actually easier to figure out than one
may think. I admit I was, and will always be a fan
of his music, but, honestly, I don't go around thinking
about him or any celebrity.

The link to him, especially regarding the
frequency and sexuality of the dreams is that
my ex-husband looked like him when he
was young, played a Gibson Les Paul, always
dressed in black, and was a dark, dark person
spiritually.

In fact, after we broke up and divorced, he
started going to the Crowleyian temple in
Austin, appropriately named, "The Scarlet
Woman Lodge." I took it personally as a
slap in the face, to show me that my Christianity
didn't plant a single seed. We stayed on very
good terms for a long time, however, but, to
torture me, he told me about a service
he went to. I got literally nauseated and
faint-headed when he persisted in describing
the revolting service.

It wasn't the visual of some geeky high
priestess chick invoking the dark gods
by posing with legs spread on the altar,
but, the reality that someone who I loved
so dearly was heading for eternal separation
from God.


He was invited to their infernal religion
when he was doing work at Dell in Austin.
It seems that a number of execs there are
involved in the order. No wonder my Dell
computer is possessed. I am ready to
do an exorcism on it by throwing it into
the canal.


So that's my cursory dream analysis.
I think I am morphing my husband with
Page subconsciously. When I first met my
husband, knowing his mom was once a hippie
chick, I thought he could be one of Page's
offspring. But, after meeting his father,
I knew that without a doubt, he came from
him. Talk about dark.... This man literally
was born in Transylvania, and his last
name is Turkish for "Bringer of Light"
otherwise known as "Lucifer." Then my
husband liked to boast that his name,
Damon, completed the deal, but, he claimed
he was "only 555."

How did I manage to fall in love with someone
so completely opposite to myself? At least
John was spiritual and Christ-minded. I still
dearly love John, and will love him for 10,000
years, even if we haven't been together
for what seems like forever. He stopped
calling me. I think he's got a girlfriend,
or still has his 19 year old girlfriend.
Oh well. I can't blame him. How long can
he hold that torch?

I still love Damon too, in my own way. I
never understood how people end up hating
another. How can you love someone and
then ever hate them? Love is forever. It's
too precious to turn into hatred.

He's about to become a father for the first time
in a few weeks. I am genuinely happy for him,
but, I feel guilty for not being able to get pregnant
when he wanted a kid so badly. I remember when
we were trying to get pregnant, and it
fills me with stabbing pain thinking of the names
we chose, and the plans we had. But, how
did I expect to raise a child with someone
who would never let his kid be baptised
or learn about Jesus?

Why did I marry Damon? Did I think I could
have a life with someone like him? What is
it about darkness that attracts fools like me?
I swear this guy used to become demonically
possessed. He could be incredibly cruel, violent
and abusive. His sweet face would become a mask of
hideousness and demonic energy would fill the
world. We didn't stand a chance.

But, ten years after our divorce, those images
are remote. All I can picture is seeing him in the park
as an artistic and sensitive 19 year old, curly
hair full of highlights from the sun, the sun
in his dark eyes, his acoustic guitar strapped
across his back, talking to the squirrels,
coaxing them with a peanut. He had the
most wonderful smile that brightened all
gloom. I loved him so much.

I've never met a man with more animal
magnetism. He could be so sweet. He ran
an animal shelter, and used to bring me
home a myriad of creatures to nurture,
from white doves found in the snow
to tame goats. I loved hiking with him
in the many trails and nature reserves
he took me too. He said that these were
his churches, and on this, I felt in
agreement. What better place to worship
the Creator than in the most beautiful
spots of natural beauty. We loved
the Blue Ridge Mountains. Once, he
ran after a bear hit by a car. He couldn't
care less about his own safety until
he knew the bear was okay.

We had a house full of cats and dogs,
birds and sometimes lizards and other
exotic critters. He'd awaken me with tiny
frogs hidden in his hand, or make me get
dressed to see a snake in our garden.

Why don't I dream of him, instead of Jimmy
Page? Maybe because there are too many
bruises in my soul from the bruises on my
body long healed. Jimmy Page is idealized
and someone safe. Jimmy Page doesn't
care about me, and doesn't hate me.

I hope Damon doesn't hate me. Does
he remember the good things and good
times, or only the bruises in his soul?
Most of all, I pray that my foolishness
didn't kill the beauty of Jesus Christ in
his soul.