The bedroom’s a bad dream. (For now.)

A strange room it is, the bedroom.

Haunted isn’t the right word, though haunted elements exist. I’ve seen haunted. Lived — rather, survived — in haunted. Very haunted. 

If that place was a 10 on the Haunted Scale, my current space, now 4-months-old, is a 3-5. 

Troubled. My bedroom is troubled. Troubled and traumatized. Energies of former tenants and their experiences linger like thumbprints in clay. Dark energies. 

When I first moved in, the bedroom gave me nightmares near every night. I’m very psychic, very intuitive and very very attuned to spaces and places. It’s who I am and what I do. As a ghost whisperer,  I could make a career out of these gifts and rare skills as an energies-worker in homes, spaces and places. I’m very Piscean. I pick up everything!

As background. 

My dilemma is my bedroom, thick with trauma. 

Yes, I’ve painted it. Looks waaaay better from the beaten-down and beaten-up Ghetto Grunge that is was when I moved in.

And while fresh colors and paint can certainly help invigorate and repair a space, they can do only so much when a space is deeply traumatized, as my bedroom is.

I’m just gonna say it. This circa-1960s mobile home rental has seen a lot of people pass through through the decades.

 I’ve learned that two of the most recent residents had serious addictions. One was a woman who spent her days and presumably nights drunk. Another tenant was a druggie who not only used but dealt from this space. 

Not good. 

Troubling thing is that a former food addiction that I long ago outgrew has returned with a vengeance since living here.

I kid you not! Like that bedroom where a lot of bad shit happened is a mini-Pandora’s box or something!

It’s been like this from Day One! I can’t take any more of this! There’s bad juju in that bedroom and it has to be fixed … healed … transformed … lifted from its muck and mire. For its sake and mine. 

YES, spaces have their own histories and characters and energies, just as individuals do.

So. It’s a new year. One of my needs (and goals) is to redo that bedroom, beyond the obvious painting of walls and ceiling (so painfully disgusting when I moved in).

It needs more feng shui than I’ve already done. 

It truly needs to be raised from the mud. Like the lotus. 

It’s a project. And since I’ve already recreated and raised the whole of the remaining house from ghetto to beauty, I know it can be done! I’ve got my work cut out for me in the bedroom. 

The room of trouble and trauma that’s begging for transformation. Or if it’s not, I am!  I just can’t keep living in other people’s darkness that they leave/left behind or my own.

That’s my story today. A story of striving to bring much-needed balance to a deeply unbalanced bedroom.  Of transforming it from nightmare into a lovely dream. Of cleaning it of chaos. Ain’t no can of Comet cleanser can fix this. A can of *celestial* Comet, however …

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