“Does my breath smell like onions?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you should’ve eaten some, too.”

– dream wisdom

Apparently my clone decided to demolish an onion pie in some parallel universe yesterday and my soul, being the nosy little antenna that it is, synced right into the experience like Netflix autoplay but for karmic cuisine and made sure I dreamt about it. Then I woke up tasting onions. Onions. At 7 AM. For breakfast. Against my will. Never had an onion pie in my life, yet here we are. My multidimensional taste buds: “We ball.”

Anyway, spiritual update: I’m in a heart purge. Again. Second one this year. The first one felt like God pressed CTRL+ALT+DELETE on my old self. This round is “just emotional,” which is rich because my face currently looks like I lost a fistfight with my own tear ducts, and my head is pounding like a rave in a tin can. Apparently my emotional faucet was calcified like an old kettle, and now that it’s unclogged here come the waterworks. So here I am. Hydrating like someone who’s been sobbing in HD. Pillows soaked. Cool. Cool cool cool cool. A little Abed in my head to keep the shrink away. 

Now, about this whole awakening thing. Turns out the life force doesn’t just pop in, say hi, and leave. No. Mine pulled up like it won a life-long GA Travel Card. First one? 2023. Sneaky. Haven’t even noticed it back then. Root to crown. It was like a Trenord train with zero announcements. Second one? 2025. The Big Boy. Crown to root. This one came like a bullet train and forgot to announce anything. 

Crown was actually vibey, full Avatar State, fun tricks, existential sparkles. Heart? Near-death experience vibes. Root? My dog passed and my nervous system said: “Let’s collapse.” Straight into a dark night of the soul. And when it had finally hit the root this year? I thought, “Oh cool, we’re done.”

HAHAHAHAHA. Have another mobility injury. Then we go back up. Sacral, Solar Plexus. Those were fun. Creative spark? Here. Cozy home? Check. Self-love, self-care? Bring it in. I’d have to say the 3rd time around is like a ride on a double-decker SBB train, with all the announcements in couple of languages: Nächster Halt/Prochain arrêt/Next stop: Heart Main Station.  

So we arrive at: Heart Main Station at Platform 3, and need to get on a bus to Heart Purge Town, for the third time. It’s a trip nobody asked for. First one that I know of was in 2024. At least I had cuddles that night. Sigh. 

Do I appreciate the journey? Yeah. Totally. But waking up randomly without doing any breathwork, chants, or 47-step kundalini rituals? Rude. Zero consent. And yes, I blamed the man I met. Hard. For months. Then my ego took a coffee break and I went: “Oh. Well. It was meant to be, apparently.” 

The audacity this man had to trigger a cosmic reboot in me. I hope he’s not out there completely unaffected after throwing me into the flames of my own life force when I didn’t ask for it. I hope life throws him into a snowball fight. Like kids are throwing snowballs at each other peacefully and he accidentally walks into the crossfire. Just for balance.

Anyway, here’s the moral: I’m not special. You’re not special. Nobody’s special. You just don’t notice this stuff until something in your life shakes loose. Sometimes it’s your trauma. Sometimes it’s your love life. Sometimes it’s someone else’s root chakra exploding across timelines like a confetti cannon, and you catch the shrapnel in your crown. Sometimes one man’s accident is another woman’s activation, apparently. Don’t even ask me how. I’ve stopped trying to understand. It’s not possible at this point. 

So let it purge. Let it flow. Let it yeet whatever needs to be yeeted.

Then drink hot cocoa. Tea with honey. And more water than you think is humanly necessary. And sleep. Your body’s basically doing system updates at this point.