Chief Yellepit

I had another dream…

Chief Yellepit was sitting on a flat surfaced rock smoking his pipe, beside the river, enjoying the sun. I was beside him lying on the grass with my bare feet draped in the cool running water.

He was shaking his head and laughing at me.

I had asked him why I was writing the stuff I was writing cos it was wasn’t what I wanted to write.

He continued to laugh, he reminded me of the Dalai Lama but his laughter was less infectious. I felt a like a child that didn’t understand something.

He picked up his stick and pointed to my belly.

“It is no great mystery… your spirit energy has opened and needs to be expressed. You have seven powers in your body, some are open, and some are not, it is as it needs to be. “

I didn’t understand and he continued to laugh.

He shook his head, was he playing with me? I felt like a child.

“That part” and he pointed at my belly (at my scars) “was blocked and closed for a long time. What comes now, needs to come, let it come… enjoy it “. He found this amusing.

A blue snake came and rested in between us and he lay his stick down next to it.

He pointed to my throat and said he would clear that one today.

He picked the compliant snake up, it glistened with a silvery coating, and fed it into my mouth. I felt it go in and down my throat, I expected to gag but I didn’t. It wasn’t unpleasant nor pleasant it just felt natural in a strange way. Something remarkable changed. It would be as if a blind person would feel if they could see again after they had lost their sight for a while. Only words would come to me with ease now.

We exchanged a knowing look between each other, no words were needed.

I asked “why me?”

He said “you’re not particularly special, you’ve just reached that level of evolvement… there is much more to learn. Soon you will see auras again and when we come to here” and he hit me on the top of the head with his stick, “you will understand


How did we meet?

After reading an inspiring post, (a distraction) from my own obsessive scribbling, I paused, and found myself thinking about the time I met my partner of 23 years. It moved surprisingly quickly, from just an account, into something much more. In fact what I was about to write became quite life changing for me. I was like a woman possessed. I needed the right words. I wanted to get it right because this wasn’t fiction. I examined the evening in such fine detail and went through a whole gamete of emotions. Getting in touch with your younger self can be immensely cathartic. It isn’t finished there is so much more to write but last night I shared my writing with my lover and we filled in all the blanks. So thank you blog land, for inspiring me to write. It appears though older now, were not dead below the waist….. I would like to share the intro with you if I may….

People have asked many times, how we met and was it love at first sight? I exchange a glance, with my partner and we smile, a tickle stirs in my stomach. Time has not denied the vivid, headiness of that memory. The feelings, now tempered with wisdom, can be brought easily back to the surface. Though there’s no mistaking that look, which captured me, is still in her eyes. It Ignited a Sapphic spark to flame and still burns brightly now.

Inquirers are always so impressed at how we seem together and share the joy of our relationship, as though vetting us for some imagined trophy, in the lesbian hall of fame.

We give them our stock responses and tell them it was love, there are no words to convey the truth of what we shared that night. So if you’d really like to know, how it was we met, read on my friend, I may teach you something yet.

If poetry belongs to lovers I was illiterate before this night. I found a whole new world that I could read and write. I’d spent many years alone or going through the motions. I’d had several encounters but no giving of myself… and so I floated happily, sharing unconnected love. Until the night that my love walked in my life.

A smoke-filled busy pub, three days after Christmas, was the scene. I sat consoling a friend about her relationship that was never going to be.

A clearing in the crowd opened up a perfect view of you entering the pub and announcing your arrival in my life.


Something powerful was happening to my body, drawn to your shape demanding your details. Transfixed and hypnotised I watched you. I hadn’t seen your face but something special was waiting.

You turned and as if knowing my eyes were on you and feeling the same thing. Our eyes connected and that my dear was that. The calmest hurricane ever known rattled through my veins. A hidden tsunami of emotions tumbled around inside. I’d seen that look in your eye before, but not this face, and not in this lifetime.

I turned to my friend and blurted out that I would end up living with the woman who had just walked through the door. My friend laughed in disbelief, thinking me dead below the neck.

But I knew better, I saw images, of future homes. Where you would be coming through other doors.

I couldn’t blink, I needed to ingest every detail of your perfect beauty. Though no words had been spoken we knew. We both knew in that moment that there was no going back. A door had been opened and there was now a connected energy between us made of solid gold. We mirrored each other’s movements and smiled when each other smiled. We’d never met but I already knew you so well. We could hold the gaze of intimacy reserved for special lovers.

A mutual acquaintance brought our company together, and now we knew our names. I was giddy on your aura as it wrapped around my own. The closer I got the faster my heart beat. We were alone inside this room. All else was shut out as I examined you in-depth. I could feel your skin before I touched your hand.

We neither should have been there that night, it was a quirk of fate. Predestined long ago and events had made it so. A minor accident had prevented my journey that day and an impassioned plea from a friend had guided you there but now we knew the reason. Everything would work out fine.

We played a game of tag as I ran from pub to pub, knowing that you’d follow and end up in my bed.

My home was not my own however, it was filled with other nurses, and on this night an impromptu party happened.

We’d lost contact as I’d played my game of hide and seek, I wondered if I’d got it wrong, but then in my doorway there you stood, a smile came over me.

You had competition that night, not from one but two and it ended up a waiting game as each gave up on me.

You asked me where the toilet was, my cue to take you there. A private moment we could share. As the door we locked behind.

Our images reflected in the mirror on the wall added to the feeling that there were more than us in the room. Love and fate joined hand in hand and added to our union

A dream i’d like to share

Dreams provide much inspiration for my writing. In my last, I was shown a beautifully bound hard backed copy of a book. It was cream with a picture of a crow an albatross and butterflies. The title was ‘Transformation of an Urban Shaman’ it was written by a name I knew as mine.

In my dream I found myself in a blackened cave. By the shuffling and breathing, my senses knew I was not alone. A slow deep humming began and as the sound grew and fluctuated I could see the shapes of people, even faces presented to me as sound. I was positioned in the middle of these people gathered around me and felt a strong connection to them all.

As the humming raised in frequency I felt my insides carry up. I was being moved around the room guided by their strange vibrations. It reminded me of a sound I’d heard plants made, a truly resonating beauty that could be felt.

This experience went on for many minutes. I was lucidly experiencing every aspect of this dream. The humming was constant, nothing like a melody or any tune I’d heard. But with each higher frequency in vibration I felt myself lift. Many voices in a perfect harmonious drone that seemed to be speaking to my soul.

The noise became secondary to an Indian Chief who appeared in front of me. I’d seen his face before in dreams his name was Yellepit.

This Great Spirit, I was surprised to see stood no taller than I, approached me in the darkness lit by the light of people’s auras.

Hands outstretched with a kind benevolent purpose, he wrapped them around my head. His left hand held the back of my neck, the other found my forehead

His hands felt remarkable in their texture, cool and hardened, smooth and strong, like many years of weathered leather. He offered only the lightest of touch when he contacted my skin.

I felt a strong thumb force itself into a place in the centre of my forehead. As he moved it around I felt no pain and he muttered words I didn’t know. It felt as if he were sweeping cobwebs away, sticky and difficult.

His other hand found my face and his left thumb found the corner of my eye. He pushed again, gently and firmly, forcing it deep. I felt a bubbling and then a waterfall of tears were released. We stood connected surrounded by the growing humming.

He withdrew, the intimacy over. He looked at me and left me with these words;

“You can now see”

“You can now write”

“People will listen to you”

As he disappeared into the darkness I looked at my hands. In one he had left a small red feather that absorbed into my skin.


Sharon Twizell, a psychiatric nurse for most of her life, has not waded in the cesspool of human experience, without learning a few things. With stories a’ plenty and her body almost ready for the knackers yard, she now continues her adventures with the characters that inhabit tenebrous dark worlds. With a love of horror and a talent for the tastefully erotic she dares to challenge the reader to take a metaphysical ride into the unknown. Her new novel “The Malevolence” will spirit you into the dark world of the unexpected and spit you out wondering if what you read was fact or fiction. …….


I hate that bleep sound. Why won’t they just come and turn it off? …BLEEP. My rising irritation is fighting with my deep desire to sleep and my anger is winning…BLEEP. With the last of my energy I turn to face the machine that is now the focus of my hatred… BLEEP. I see the saline and the antibiotics have run their course and although I know how to reset the machine, my energy is spent. …BLEEP. So I just lie and hate the instrument of torture before me…BLEEP.

My pain is back, this is a seven, and I know they’ll ask…BLEEP. Oh no! This feels odd, a pop and then eight, nine… BLEEP.

My buzzer lies just a foot away but may as well be miles, so I lie and hate that as well…BLEEP. I know they’re busy and they don’t realise how life threatening this is, I think, as my pain envelops me… BLEEP. I wonder, is my pain new or has the morphine worn off? I didn’t know nor really care I just want it away…BLEEP.

I find myself uncomfortable, awash with wet, cold, sweat…BLEEP. My body starts to shiver, oh man! That’s all I need…BLEEP.

The kind nurse appears, although no glasses, drugged and dying it’s hard to make her out… BLEEP. I recognise her aura, it’s strong with bright white light… BLEEP. She’s different to the others, she cares about what she does…BLEEP.

She resets the machine and there’s no bleep, and pushes the buzzer to my hand.

“You should have buzzed us dear”, she takes my temperature and runs away.

“I’m cold, in pain and don’t feel right” I whisper, but no one there to hear. My violent shaking made me hope she’s gone to get a blanket.

Sweat was running down my eyebrows and pooling uncomfortably in my eyes, I can’t raise my hand to clear them, another irritation. I blink and blink but even that is too much effort and so I close them…BLEEP. That bloody noise is back.

There is a lot of noise around me and as I force my eyes to open all I see are auras. White, yellow, turquoise, green and blue, majestic in their lustre…BLEEP. I want a blanket and she got me a fan… why is she so cruel. It is blasting right in my face… I hate my new endurance test. My pain has reached a pinnacle, my whole body alive with it…BLEEP. Before the morphine could reach my veins, my pain disappears. I transcend pain and leave my body, but my thoughts and sense remain. I connect to the energies, I now no longer care, all I feel is peace and see the love from the auras.

This is a rush, I am so aware of everything. I am connecting and merging with so many energies. A knowledge comes over me. I understand so much now that I couldn’t know before. Life is so simple and pure. My soul feels energised. How could I possibly ever have forgotten how this feels? I am happy to follow this energy trail, it is where I want to be. I want to connect with other brighter energies, I need to evolve…

I see a young pretty doctor, dressed in green scrubs. She has amazing eyes, big and full of compassion. She is talking to me but I can’t hear her words.

“It’s ok, you’re going to feel groggy, and you’ve had another big op… your bowel had perforated and you had sepsis again… I think we lost you, but your time here must not be done.”

I watch her walk away, the machine next to me starts to bleep, but it doesn’t bother me. My life will be different from now on. I need a pen and paper, I need to write.



After the cruel coastal carnage, the thousands of deaths and the blood soaked sea ran clear, an uneasy calm descended. It was the job of a few brave ambulance drivers to collect and identify body parts and deliver their dog tags back home. Amongst this committed but largely overlooked body of relentlessly hardworking people there were two females.

They had joined up from very different places in England, expecting to serve where they were needed but even they were shocked they’d ended up in Normandy.

“Caps”, a nickname given, for the Capstan full strength cigarettes she chain smoked, came from Newcastle, a miner’s daughter, incredibly strong and even in the day before equality was more than a match for any man, no matter what his rank.

“Tonic”, really should’ve been called ‘no tonic’ for the times she said it, ordering gin. Her lovely nature and able administrations with the dying also suited this this apt nickname.

Dark skies and dark moods, these women strange to each other discovered deep friendship in their shared experience of the cesspit of foulness they found themselves in. Even the bravest fell in tears or never got up again. At quiet moments comfort was found, men would reach out to other men in the desperate fear of dying alone, bodies acting in strange ways under such duress.

Caps had often found herself attracted to women and had a new focus for her attention. This was an unknown pleasure for Tonic, strangely drawn to Caps and captivated by her pretty androgyny and strength.

They found a private place, high along the cliffs that had witnessed such slaughter. They would place two fallen boots upon the tired fence. The boots could be seen in moonlight announcing that the other would be waiting.

This illicit tryst was thrilling amongst the devastation, within the hard and cruel landscape a surprising softness waited.

Tonic had only known the awkward harshness of her boyfriend, self-absorbed and greedy, who paid little attention to her needs.

From the very first moment, surprised at the softness of her comrade’s lips, gently responding, she belonged to Caps. It felt so natural and a Sapphic joy pulsed through her veins. The awareness of her growing love came unexpectedly, on discovering herself humming whilst carrying a dismembered leg.

Orders came, and the two were parted, on different ships with destinations unknown. All they knew of each other were their nicknames. They knew so much more but that knowledge wouldn’t help them find each other.

They asked around but nicknames changed and there was no social media in those days. They got on with their lives, their secret became a lifetime of thinking “what if?”


Dorothy Bentley looked out over the same cliffs that had been an important place for her once. Attending Normandy for the Memorial, she’d wandered up the path. Despite the horrific things she’d seen, she had some very pleasant memories. A thought, a look, she was the only one around. She’d amuse herself and relive a little fantasy she had. She slipped her red shoes off her feet and placed them on the fence. Sitting back down she saw different footwear and the old feelings washed over her. She remembered the laughter, the touch of someone so beautiful her heart ached still now. She was lost in her thoughts, picturing uniforms spread out on the ground.

“Caps” a voice shouted.

Dorothy squinted to focus. An elderly lady, well dressed with a stick was shouting a name she hadn’t heard for years.

“Tonic” It couldn’t be, it couldn’t possibly be. It was! The two women ran to each other as fast as their aging bodies would allow. In their minds, however, they were in their twenties once again and joined together in a long awaited embrace. Fitting together perfectly, they held each other, never to let go again.


“This is definitely the place Auntie Dot wanted us to sprinkle her ashes. It’s hard to tell from the photo but she left very specific instructions and wanted her shoes just placed right…I think Auntie Toni will be pleased… Make sure it’s on record. We’ll take it to the home and show her when we get back. Though God knows what the story was? …We’ll never know now. Alzheimer’s is so cruel…

Tonic was sat in her chair, rocking gently, oblivious to her surroundings or what was being played on the video. Her mind was in (another place another time). In her mind it was 1944 and she’s just noticed the boots on the fence.

Soul Awakening

Asking the Universe for help.


This must never be undertaken lightly, for it is a serious matter. It is reserved for those times in our lives when we are truly at an impasse. Something feels wrong deep down and that we are on a path that is not our own. These are times when our soul is telling us something but we must be able to listen. We feel lost and without a purpose.

In order to ask the Universe for help we must remove all the things that are getting in the way of that important communication and pure energy.

We must relax the body and quiet the mind, create a space where meditation can occur. Whether that be outside in a sacred place, or inside with candles, music or drums. Sometimes music can help open the portal to a place of a higher vibration. It depends on how easily you can meditate. If there is still a commentary in your head then you are not there and may have to try another time.

Once the mind is truly quiet and you are no longer aware of the feelings of your body then you are there. Even when you deal with chronic daily pain it disappears when you reach this place. The exchange doesn’t happen on a conscious level but when you are in this place you are receptive to a purity of energy that can awaken your soul and give you the answers.

There is no great mystery as to what happens, we are just connecting with the deepest part of ourselves and that pure energy can connect to the greater universal energy.

Afterwards life becomes simpler, obstacles fall away and we can find our true purpose. It’s quite amazing what you can discover when you find yourself close to death. I know it has changed my life.

The tunnel we walk through at the end of our life isn’t quite as it has been shown in art and stories, but it does exist. It is simply our soul returning to the source. The tunnel, not a tunnel but a beam of energy of our creating. Our connection to the source but on our last journey it disappears behind there can be no return but we can connect to other energies because our spirit lives on.

If these words inspire anything, resonating to something deep inside, it might not make any sense to your mind but your soul will understand. Find a quiet place and you will also see and find a way to open up the magic that lies within. I urge you do not waste more time our souls they can sleep forever. But once awakened human experience is filled with wonder once again the same as when we were so children