+- tapatalk (https://tapatalk.sorcerytime.com)
+-- Forum: ALL (https://tapatalk.sorcerytime.com/forum-4.html)
+--- Forum: Art of Dreaming (https://tapatalk.sorcerytime.com/forum-21.html)
+--- Thread: A thread for some of my archived dreams. (/thread-20441.html)
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - glance left - 03-04-2012
Hmmm....ok! How bout a plate full of Big Sky!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0L0V5qSkWos
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 03-04-2012
Hah that will go down great. Now if only i knew what wine to wash it down with. Red or white? lol.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - glance left - 03-04-2012
Red!
But not too much.....just enough......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GXTRe9ttMXw
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
5/28/12
A Ship in Time
Before I went to sleep I had my usual intent to connect with people here, But I made a specific intent to connect with ( ). It was almost 6am so I drifted of pretty quickly.
I stood on a ship, It appeared to me to be something like a modern super yacht. But it seemed very advanced, like I could imagine it also taking to the sky. In some ways it reminded me of the Delphinus, but I didn’t see weapons that I recall. It sailed on “the sea”. The strange one from many of my dreams. Because ive dreamed in it so many times, I consider it “my” ship in some way, like my home. I do not know if that denotes ownership, or a sense of belonging however. There were many people on the ship, that I spoke with. It glided upon the sea, so smooth and steady, like a straight line veering neither to the left or right, not rocked by waves. It felt like riding magnetic levitation tram or train (Ive ridden one at the Getty center in los angeles takes one up the hill from the parking area). I believe it was on this ship, that I had a long conversation with ( ). It was more then a conversation, it was an awareness exchange or pooling. It felt similar to the dream I posted with the flagpoles, or others were ive talked about a weaving of awareness into a dream/perception. Or the excersises with the words, then people working together bridging the concepts. Holding hands. They all explain the same perception. Circles, etc. She presented me with a bundle. A book, a device that was compatible to me. (im not sure if that was here or latter when we got where we were going though). It was similar to a dream a week or two ago. In the other dream, it was ( ) who “moved” a large block of sheets of living words into me. But it was rough I/we didn’t know what we were doing as well. This transfer was smoother, but the bundle was very similar, it was made up from a group effort, or the pages were. But as it was last time, it was composed by a single persons effort, put together. This one was made by ( ). I simply accepted it with a smile. We didn’t insert it directly into my awareness’s cartridge slot. (Heh I had a funny image in the dream of an old Atari 2600, and trying to stick a game of pong into it...last time it went in upside down lol). This time i accepted it as a book or tablet (ipad) device.
There is a long section of dreaming that faded a bit. The ship moved through a tunell, or vortex of some kind, perhaps the eye of a storm or hurricane/cyclone. I remember rain falling in sheets, but still the ship did not rock. I recall things that looked like large flying fish...the size of school buses moving along side and in and out of the water. They were fascinating. Im not sure if things went right or they went wrong, I didn’t seem to have an opinion to be honest, just taking it all in. At some point it seemed like the ship moved through some timeless void, I think this was inside of the vortex.
Amnesia. I woke one day, seemed like after some time. I was dressed in what I would call rags. But I could see they were sown around what was left of my ships uniform. I sat up from my straw pallet I used for a bed, and touched an ( ) three star badge hidden under a smelly rag that was sown over it. The rag patch had ripped, and I found this insignia again. I remembered some. The ship (what I remember to write is what I remembered in the dream). I was me again, but me with an extra Decade or so in the middle between the ship and then. This place...It was weird. It seemed to be the dark ages. But it also was not really that. (It was sideways not back or forward in time) I walked out of the room I was in, outside to a courtyard. I was in a mostly decayed and fallen walled farm compound. Thatch roofs had caved in, walls had tumbled down. I was sleeping in a small section that had been repaired, a hovel really built in the walls of the larger structure. I walked across a weed chocked cobblestone courtyard, and drew a pale of water from a central well. I dumped this over my head, and shock myself like to wake up or sober up after a long and confusing night of sleep. Or partying. But in my case, it was to feel the sensation and focus my self a bit (lucidity excersise).
I returned to the hovel, and started rooting around in a half collapsed cabinet. It was here! The bundle. Now it was definitely a book...large, like an encyclopedia. Hard bound. I opened it a bit, it was written as if by a quill. I ran my fingers across a few lines and “read them”. One of the things I saw were all the people that were on the ship. I needed to find them. That was the first thing. I shoved the book, some straw, and turnips into a large sack and slung it over my shoulder. My feet were wrapped in animal skins...i tied this up and I was ready to travel. I had a rusty knife in my belt. I used this to dig under some stones in the corner of my dirt floored dwelling. I dug up a black metal? Box. I opened it. In it was a modern, polished pistol. Like a colt 45. and a service strap and ammo. Some in boxes some in loaded magazines. I careful strapped this to my upper leg, in a spot I could easily reach, hidden by a single fold of the rags. I was ready. I left the ruined farm. As I walked, I took note of the lack of animals. I briefly wondered how I had survived here so long, no food. Well turnips and onions I had to add to the bag. But I couldn’t remember farming. I was momentarily confused, but then it made sense. I cant recall how or why it did now though. I started walking down a hill. When I got to the bottom I looked back up. The building wasn’t a farm, it was a ruined castle mostly collapsed walls grown over with sage and grass. Interesting.
The roads were horrible, unsafe. Muddy ruts full of animal droppings and muck. The woods were full of robbers and monsters. And people just wandering, hungry, eyes sunken and flesh hanging like in famine. Yet I saw things they could eat. I hid in some brush and watched a group of men hanging around a tree. I thought they were gong to catch some birds to eat. But they stood with their mouths open. A bird pooped and one man leapt like an acrobat to catch it and swallow. Then another. Then the birds left. The other men, hungry, started digging in the muck. They were looking for offal to eat. Somebody found large horse pie, buried yet still steaming in the mud. He moved to shove it in his mouth, but one of the other men saw this and struck him to take it. It turned into a brawl, I saw the slash of a knife, and blood. The two men who were left split the horse pie, and then walked off down the road. I stared in horror at the corpses, the blood slowly, and thinly, tricking out of one mans mouth. And then...the earth drank it...then absorbed the men, they just sank into the ground like they never existed. When this happened, I saw...a patch of grass grow, and to the side, in a field, a willow tree sprung from the earth and grew to full size in a mere minute. After this I stayed in the fields and kept low.
I came to a crossroads, and I had to cross the road again, I was looking for the narrowest place to do so. But then I turned to my left, at where the roads actually met. There was a wagon, like a gypsy cart it had windows in the back. It had a broken axle and a shattered wheel. Their were reigns like would tether horses or oxen, but they just hung in the air and moved, I could hear but not see the animals. But I saw more of the thing people, some women and children this time as well as men, slashing at the people in the front bench, where the teamsters sit. There was a women and man sitting up there, fending off the hungry people with poles or staffs. I recognized the one dressed like a gypsy. The book in my pack started bouncing to go to them. It told me. “ ”. The hungry people were trying to get on the wagon, and some were trying to break through the back door. I saw another staff poking at them through the window. Somehow I know what to do. I take the turnip from my pack, and edge to some rocks above the wagon. I climb up them (no one sees me I guess) and take three bites of the turnip. The bites was like filling me, more then it looked. I instantly had to defaecate. I did so, an impossibly large pile. Then I begin to sing an eating song. The smell looks like skunks tail in a cartoon, the smell, kinda green lol. It moves like an arm to the hungry people. They all turn and stat making for the rocks to eat. I make sure they are all coming. Then I pull out the pistol. Bang, bang, bang, over and over, like a machine. All the hungry fall, and as before, they are absorbed into the muck. The people on the wagon are looking at me. I don’t say anything. First I hold my hands over the pile of ****. It turns into pure energy, and races back to the bites from the turnip. The turnip is whole. Then I walk to where the infected people were. I place my hand over the mud, and the bullets rise and I open the spent magazine, and they return to their proper place. I put everything away and run up to the wagon, laughing and smiling. I take out the book and hold it in my hands. I give everyone a hug and we are laughing. I look around and say “nice ride”. ( ) comes down and we prop the wagon up with a staff. And we run our hands along the broken axle and the wheel and they rebind. I go around to the back and open the door. Heh its ( ) with muddy boots, looking fierce holding a large knife before her to get anything that got in the wagon. I say “im happy to see you too” and there is another hug. So we all go outside and look around, talking mind to mind I didn’t catch it in my recall. Then we stop and I look up and say. “So which one of you stepped in **** and tracked it into the wagon?” there was a round of relived laughter at that. ( ) went into the back of the wagon with ( ), and myself and ( ) climbed ot the top of the wagon and gave a “yah” jerk of the reigns.
After this, for a long stretch of dreaming, things were like on a game map, or world map. The journey was represented by a red line moving towards a large city on the coast. Also from time to time id be in the wagon. Setting camp. Feeding the spirit animals (which was odd they ate like prayer). Talking to people, looking at the stars on the roof. Cleaning the gun. Sometimes having to use it. We found other people from the ship here and there. This one a circus performer in a village. That one a deputy. One had buried themself in the mud/ground for fear of the infected/being infected. It was a disease, a disease of land and plant and animals. The offal eaters. People would die, a new tree would form. And attract birds. Which ****. The infected would eat this energy, and when they died, a new tree was born or plant, or flower, depending on their strength. Some of them became like monsters too, and every person or animal they killed became a new plant. We would often read the book, or it would read to us. Even add to it, piece together what was going on. It was also a beacon, thats how we knew were to go...or rather, the spirit animals did. After some YEARS, we found everyone. The deserted lands were infected, but towards the coast, there were villages and cities still, but this was like a creeping, unwinable war. The only way to leave again was to find way to win.
Some years more have gone by. We found some way to slow or halt, but not reverse, the spread of the disease. We also, had knowings of things beyond this place. Firearms. Textile weaving techniques. Silk, mining. Again, I wake, and need to recall what is going on. But this time I wake in a great canopied bed. I get up and yawn and scratch my face. I slip into some velvet slippers, not rags, and don a robe. I step through some heavy curtains and onto a balcony. I am in a room high up in a large palace. I call for a servant and man appears with a silver platter. On it is a tobacco pipe, and a bowl. I pack the pipe and sit on chair and look out, slowly smoking as I wait for my breakfast. I look out on the city. It looks like Venice, Italy. White marble, a bustling sea port, smells and sounds. Beautiful sea...ahh the sea the boat was on. Gulls flap in the air. I look up. And low over the city, is a great airship. It has the Delphinus symbol on its side. The gondola is bristling with what look like muskets. Its patrolling the city. In the harbor, I see an iron clad. Another decade has gone by.
Its time for another meeting. This palace is the dodge's palace. (i had a room here not the dodge lol) I guess we got busy selling and trading after the plague was stalled. And from that an army. The plague was just the first wave. Soon, the power behind that plague, would erupt. An army of the dead, the infected, nightmares. Dead trees like hills, bones and beasts. Against this we had prepared, bootstrapped technology and organization from our awareness. We were discussing building new thing. We could just...just build a small number of aircraft. This was a design meeting. We had two templates we could forge. A larger, but slower, fighter bomber, or spitfires with pintel engines. We went back and forth. The faster spitfires would be good against flying beasts. The bombers would not do as well, but were cheaper to build (less advanced engines airframe needed less hard to make materials) and could defend against the flyers. I proposed we put 2/3 into the bombers, and 1/3 into the spitfires as cover for them. Let the flyers shove themselves at the bombers defenses, and the the fighters could swoop in and finish them. This seemed like a good tactical and production strategy. We always try to let the strategy dictate the tools, not the tools dictate the strategy. This was an important point. (Be proactive not reactive...yet flexable within that)
About 5 years latter. Im older. The invasion has come and gone. We won. Now the merchant city base in a vast empire. I’m a king of one of the provinces now. My wife is the daughter of a king of a neighboring, vassal realm, not one of the shipmates. Each of them has dispersed to hold down a segment of the empire, and is surrounded by vassals has their own court. But we still communicate, and can gather. But not this day. This is almost the end. In true fairytale fashion, the Delphinus is held at the base of the foreign power, the heart of its dark instillation. It looks like a smoking volcano. But the smoke is the plague. It has retreated to its lair, and I was preparing for the final assault. I am standing in an outdoor pavilion, at some sort of reception. Fantastical airships are floating overhead, like flying aircraft carriers. Propeller planes are buzzing in the distance. There is a statue like dragon, I walk over and rub its chin. Inside is a missile, a defense. Things continue to advance.
My wife’s parents re coming. The father is a huge man, pretty ferocious. More a warlord then a proper king. His wife is quiet, and knits allot, but will look up and say uncanny things.
He enters with a bears roar. My god! The roads are unsafe! When I ran this area...on my OWN...we would never let a robber go, it was safe for an honest man to walk alone. His wife chimes in “our band were the only ones this far towards the mountain who weren’t infected...” he bellows “I know, and we all walked safe” and laughs. He grabs a bottle of wine and downs half of it. “Bah like drinking water...give me a proper corn liquor any day!” and sits down mumbling. We talk a bit about what Is to come, the attack from all sides on the installation. How he will lead his men. He is quite drunk. He looks up and tells me “and then I will be a free king again and stares at me...he says “my daughter has been busy planting the spells...you see, you’ll be my vassal soon enough”. I actually laugh at this. All the spells were to keep the plague from creeping in, healing, etc. Hes such a blunt gruff warrior, not a ounce of magic in him. His wife smiles at me conspiratorially. He has his drunken fantasies. I say very quietly, as if to myself. “when this is done, we will all be free. And the crew can sail once again”. No more need for these games. So yes, in that way, the warrior was correct, we will be departed
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
One of the things i like to demonstrate, if not talk about per say. Is resonate tones. strands of energy. Images and thoughts, reactions, merged. the third ear (2nd ears ) is as real as the third eye, or unreal. there is a whole continuim of spritual organs that all relate to "Seeing" not just the eyes. Strands, tendrils of will, resonance of fates. Harmonic and de harmonic waveforms. The "cloth" or "thread" not just of a person, but of reality itself. this is often the music i refer too. It also refers back to the thing i posted about water memory, plant auras, etc. The power one feels on the wind, eminating from not only the voice of the world, but also its ears. Its all, in a way the same thing. 11/11/11 was a tone. for me. A song a point that stood clearly in time. Like a musical resonate barrier. A wall. As i drew closer i saw death. my own death of cource i imagined. and in a way, it was my death. the day my father died. A wall past which i passed, and sickened, and then began to reform. I had never "Seen" past this date, not as a child. or young adult. I threw a large shadow on it, i thought this darkness was external, but it was my flickering shadow cast by the flame on this resonate wall, el tiera del fuego, the edge of my world. Now i am past, and i see no wall, only strands of resonance flowing outwards. So i decided to dig a bit. The reminder of the tones from hyBrazil reminded me of something, the accustic technology. that i was reminded of...just the other night, the night after the big dream. When i saw again, maybe not only in dreaming (one must preserve their dignity and the semblance of rational sanity) , the things my friend sketched as a ten year old, a form of self i saw mirrored in anothers eyes, and in their core, at the end of that dream. So i dug a bit found something interesting. Nothing i didnt know, even if i dont make it into word forms. It takes a conspiratorial bent, like around 9/11, so watch carefully. A conspiracy theorist is just a less adept manipulator often preying on those with unhinged ap's. But that said, they free flow many things well, and many not so well. Which is which is not mine to say. They caught 11/11/11 well, with images like i say flickering on that wall, beofre it came at (7:26 - 8:55 ties this in with Femine and male energetic aspects nicely in regards to other threads and time. Broken time machines. etc) in the non gangsta rap flow of this frentic piece of rationalizing seeing. also on this part, ill resonance with this thought, they mention the "perpetual magical circle".
Two above can be listened to first seperate and then at the same time. changes the contextual harmonic slightly.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
Yes what everyone said. The Leg movements also involved arms they had the shape of X and Y but the bodies making shapes and resonating energy from each form. I ( ), which in light of what ( ) wrote made sense. About sorcery, i found a video to explain what was being discussed, with focus. Interesting enough ( ), the lab study clip i found was done with 7 peoples eyes traced over a movie clip. The clip was in my take on this dreaming as well. This was difficult for me because of ( ) and ( ) sleeping when i was wide awake. So what happened was i got a huge chunk the night before, and as it was happening it was an ongoing seeing but several levels removed from waking mind but i was able to tap into it to an extent. And also recap when i slept again. Actually the leg ( ) clears up my questions i had of what i perceived. This clip is more about the sorcery being taught before the demonstration on stage. It was all about GAZE LOCATIONS and a clip from bladerunner, which has symbolic meaning to me, was used. It was on the net exactly.� I was also trying to explain one way i look at videos.
Seven viewers were eyetracked whilst watching a 5 minute clip from Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982). The location of each person's gaze is represented as a green circle. The heatmap represents the coordination of viewer gaze. The hotter the gaze the more attentional synchrony is observed.
Gaze data copyright: Dr. Tim J. Smith, Dynamic Visual Cognition Lab, Birkbeck, University of London.
Film copyright: Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982) The Ladd Company/Shaw Brothers / Warner Bros. Pictures/ Micheal Deeley production / Warner Home Entertainment
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
The attentional Synchronisty also had meaning when related to both the act of creating a shared dream setting, and deeper meaning in creating real worlds. The overlap with an AP was pretty evident, and hence sorcery as such. Intent, focus, ( ) movements, it all meshed together.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
( )are upon us Not really but....hehe
First when there's nothing
But a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide
Deep inside your mind
All alone, I have cried
Silent tears full of pride
In a world made of steel
Made of stone
Well, I hear the music
Close my eyes, feel the rhythm
Wrap around, take a hold of my heart
What a feeling
Being's believing
I can have it all
Now I'm dancing for my life
Take your passion
And make it happen
Pictures come alive
You can dance right through your life
Now I hear the music
Close my eyes, I am rhythm
In a flash, it takes hold of my heart
What a feeling, being's believing
I can have it all
Now I'm dancing for my life
Take your passion
And make it happen
Pictures come alive
Now I'm dancing through my life
What a feeling
What a feeling (I am music now)
Being's believing (I am rhythm now)
Pictures come alive
You can dance right through your life
What a feeling (I can really have it all)
Being's believing
(Pictures come alive when I call)
I can have it all (I can really have it all)
Have it all (pictures come alive when I call)
(Call, call ,call, call, what a feeling)
I can have it all (being's believing)
Being's believing (take your passion)
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
Some people say there never was a Don Juan Matus. Others say he was composite of several people, most often being named the revered Cahuilla spiritual elder Salvador Lopez and the Mazatec curandera Maria Sabina. Others, such as Tezlcazi Guitimea Cachora have claimed outright to BE Don Juan Matus. Still others say someone like Alex Apostolides, of whom I address the possibility, or the lack of same, in The Tree, if not Don Juan was the role model for him.
the funny thing is, i first Heard of Carlos Casteneda stuff drom trying to google more about theman from my childhood dreams. the fact he was mad einto a footnote in some hippy ****, as i saw it then, made me feel his memory was disrespected. But still i bought art of dreaming a bit after. And Since This figure was also Dr who, or another around him, but a talkative one, i figured sure why not who cares. Not the same though. One was a person who had been living. Dr who ive never been sure. I dont have an opinion. Its just funny. I can ask, but the answers are more for perspective then truth telling. I let it go.
As for the Huichol shaman-priest Ramón Medina Silva being Don Juan or a potential composite for Don Juan, the connection is made by a very thin thread that some say leads to Castaneda.(see) Although the thread existed, the strength of the connection weakens because of the timing of events. The person designated only as the Informant that shows up in various writings including Castaneda's last book, The Active Side of Infinity and who is known to have have been friends with Sabina long before her rise to fame is perhaps the most credible source.
http://the-wanderling.com/lopez.html
Byrat shamanisim was the first symbol i got in dreams that led me here indirectly. I drew it in 2006. It was a funny dream. I drew what is aw then googled a description of my drawing. The dream didnt tell me exact. Just shaman spirit. I asked what power i had what being did something ina dream and it was funny to power. It had me look in a mirror, and i drew what was on my head, which identified the "guilty" party. My reaction brought much laughter. I saw on my head the inverse of the flag of the sakha republic in russia, and the symbol for tengerisim. But inversed in mirror even colors somehow. And in the center, was a feutes...the dream said me maybe. I hope i can find that one again. I drew this when i wok e up the next morning. Was on old computer, but i saved it on facebook it seems
Salvador Lopez (d. August, 1967, with some reports stating 1973) was a member and highly revered spiritual elder of the Cahuilla band of Indians of the Morongo Reservation, ( ), California. He was renowned as an expert on medicinal plants, a bird singer and doing feats with fire as well as being a Bear Shaman. Lopez is considered by some to be at least one of the sources of information Carlos Castaneda used regarding Sacred Datura and other hallucinogenics presented in his first two books.* True, the possibility does exists that Lopez could have contributed in some fashion as an informant of Castaneda's
When i was a child, this is where i lived, ( ) Ca, and that reservation one end is where i would wander the hills. In dreaming, as a child, that was the name that man who didnt speak much gave to me...watched me...his name. He died three years after i before I was born. I didnt research any of this untill...i was deciding to come ( ) and investigate myself in this way or not. Many of my dreams still happen here. Its my dream hometown like dreamed of showing people recently. Had a long dream on those durring a nap a few hours ago again. the thing i was shown over and over was the fire...the sacred house was burned when the last shaman died. the version of the "Old Seers" in this tribes lore is similar. Also from my early dreaming, and the burning of the sacred house. this mythological figure found me in...2001 the summer. I still wont speak the name. I spoke of it once to a friend, and it saw her too. So i am carefull what i invoke. Its similar though. I will more freely speak of menily and agroot and the others When i went to a pool with fish in a dream the other night, this was menilys pool, when she left the earth to become the moon, that coyote tried to drink and drink to reach her.
When i said i went to find CC after leaving the house with all you gathered on the airplane with clock propellers. this is what i did. I went to find him, Carlos Casteneda, and pose some direct questions. The bit about faith as molds and spirit as syrup came out of our conversation. I then rode to menilys pool to see her reflection in the water and bring peace. Sometimes the fish are there, sometime sits the great axoltol. the next night i was prepared to ride the winds, like i explain, to the cloud palace. And learn more then return
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
Set back the center art piece i tapped Is a ( ) Mora. It gave a different vision then the Two headed eagle (two paths) and Tree man figure tonight. I guess thats why it hangs near e( ) catlet one (they are married). I tapped it three times the central figure is a colorful moth with three wings and one eye moth (ive long known represented me and my siblings are like bees or butterflys.) Its a readable piece he made it for my parents wedding. ( ) mora is still alive? i might try and contact him.
I thought it was a Ramón Medina Silva. ( ) is awake. She thinks thats the man my parents met in guadlarja in 1978. When i had my trip to mexico at two. She says theres some yarn painting stuff in a box somewhere i need to look. Im trying to clsoe the fallout from the last two nights of dreaming out. Shes never heard of carlos casteneda too funny. Either had i though lol.
http://www.dhushara.com/book/genaro/genaro.htm
Introduction: The Trickster
"The superhuman culture heroes of North American mythology also behave as tricksters, using cunning and stealth to steal fire, outwit monsters or play tricks on others. Many peoples have developed these trickster tales into a separate body of myth, and in some areas, such as the Northwest coast, the culture hero and trickster are sometimes regarded as separate beings. ... Because the trickster is usually the same as the culture hero, he is usually called by the same name: Great Hare, Nanabush or Glooskap in the Woodlands, Rabbit in the Southeast, Coyote on the Plains and in the West, Spider on parts of the Plains, and Raven, Blue jay or Mink on the Northwest coast. Despite his different guises, he exhibits similar characteristics across the continent, the same tales occurring in widely separated areas. He can be a crafty joker and a bungler, who is usually undone by his own horseplay or trickery, ending up injured or even dead - only to rise again, seemingly none the wiser for his experience. At times utterly irreverent and idiotic, the trickster's doings highlight, in an entertaining context, the importance of moral rules and boundaries. Many trickster myths are extremely vulgar" (Willis 227).
One character who behaves simultaneously as shaman culture hero and trickster on many levels is Carlos Casteneda in his allegory with Don Juan. Here he ranges from the extremes of the nagual as superhuman shaman to the trickster as allegorist
"Don Juan was looking straight at don Genaro. His gaze was fixed. His eyelids were half-closed. He was sitting very erect with his hands resting between his legs, on the edge of the rock. I leaned over a little bit to see the two young men. Don Juan made an imperative gesture with his hand to make me get back in line. I retreated immediately. I had only a glimpse of the young men. They seemed to be as attentive as he was. Don Juan made another gesture with his hand and.pointed to the direction of the waterfall. I looked again. Don Genaro had climbed quite a way on the rocky wall. At the moment I looked he was perched on a ledge, inching his way slowly to circumvent a huge boulder. His arms were spread, as if he were embracing the rock. He moved slowly toward his right and suddenly he lost his footing. I gasped involuntarily. For a moment his whole body hung in the air. I was sure he was going to fall but he did not. His right hand had grabbed onto something and very agilely his feet went back on the ledge again. But before he moved on he turned to us and looked. It was only a glance. There was, however, such a stylization to the movement of turning his head that I began to wonder. I remembered then that he had done the same thing, turning to look at us, every time he slipped. I had thought that don Genaro must have felt embarrassed by his clumsiness and turned to see if we were looking. He climbed a bit more toward the top, suffered another loss of footing, and hung perilously on the overhanging rock face. This time he was supported by his left hand. When he regained his balance he turned and looked at us again. He slipped twice more before he reached the top. From where we Were sitting, the crest of the waterfall seemed to be twenty to twenty-five feet across" (Casteneda 1971 125).
It is my impression that this special condition of the shaman cannot be faked - that not only he himself but his companions really do know whether or not a man who lays claim to being a mara'akame has what the Huichol call "balance"- that special, ineffable capacity to venture without fear onto the "narrow bridge" across the great chasm separating the ordinary world from the world beyond" (Furst 152).
( ) told me of a dream, her s( ), a collapsing bridge, etc. It stuck with me a week now. Came back in context. And a new doctor.
RdeM: I suppose his biggest trick on you was feeding your waterfall story right back to you.
BGM: That was a very interesting incident. I mean, it never crossed my mind that his description of don Genaro on the waterfall proved anything except that I was doing good fieldwork because I had come up with an observation and interpretation so much like his. When he said, "Oh, that's just like don Genaro," it was very validating for me.
RdeM: How do you feel about it now?
BGM: The feeling of validation remains, the feeling that we were both talking about the same serious and important manifestation of Mexican shamanism.
RdeM:Even though his part of it was made up on the spot, the feeling of mutual understanding and significance remains.
BGM: Yes.
RdeM: He must have a remarkable ability to resonate to things people tell him.
BGM: Oh, he does.
RdeM: The stories he makes up exactly fit the person he is talking to.
BGM: They're mirrors. It's happened over and over. So many people describe their conversations with Carlos, saying, "I know just what he's tailing about." But each one tells you something different, something that is part of his or her own world, which Carlos has reflected. ... His allegories, the stories he tells, seem to validate everybody.
"In the summer of 1966 Ramon gave us a memorable demonstration of the meaning of "balance." He took us to a spectacular waterfall, with a sheer drop of hundreds of feet to the valley below. This, he said, was "specially for shamans." While the other Huichol grouped themselves in a semicircle in a safe place some distance from the edge, Ramon removed his sandals and, after making a series of ritual gestures to the world directions, proceeded to leap -"fly" might be more appropriate - from one rock to another with arms stretched wide, often landing but a few inches from the slippery edge. Occasionally he would disappear behind a great boulder, only to emerge from an unexpected direction. Or he would stand motionless at the extreme limit of a massive rock, wheel about suddenly and make a great leap to the other side of the rushing water, never showing the slightest concern about the obvious danger that he might lose his balance and fall into space. We were frankly terrified, even annoyed, at such "foolhardiness," but neither his wife nor the other Huichol watching showed any real apprehension. The demonstration ended as abruptly as it had begun, without any explanation of Ramon's strange behaviour. " (Furst 152-3, Meyerhoff 44) "The mara'akáme must have superb equilibrium otherwise he will not reach his destination and will fall this way or that"' - Barbara Meyerhoff (Halifax 233, Meyerhoff 44)
"The following day he asked if we thought he had been showing off. He said, "Perhaps you thought, 'Ah, Ramon is drunk with too much beer.' But no. I took you there to show what it means 'to have balance.' So you could see and understand. Because when one crosses over as a shaman one looks below, and then one perceives this great abyss filled with all those animals waiting to kill one. Those who do not have balance are afraid. They fall and are killed." In order to render intelligible something he feared our cultural experience might not have prepared us to understand, he had decided to give us a physical demonstration-a kind of literal translation-of a phenomenon basic to shamanism wherever it occurs" (Furst 153).
Il snap pictures latter if i can. Of the art piece. Im posting in a shifted state. Or was. Sorry. Im not even sure what the point is as i come out. the conversation the other night what i was grilling CC about before i went to the pool. that must be it.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
5/26/12
Cloud Rangers
I went to sleep around 6am. I did my normal intent plus intended to connect with ( ) a bit since it was the weekend more time for snoozing hehe. When I fell asleep, there was allot going on. But this was my impression a bit latter in dreaming. I had a veil over it all and it annoyed me...while i was still asleep....i often try and recall in sleep so it makes it easier to remember when wake. Put things into words. I could not remember pictures or words or mind images for the first part. This confused me greatly so I did a false waking to check my dream computer. I even went and got a cup of dream coffee...it was full of goodness from the hills of Colombia. No really, I saw Juan Valdez outside a large picture window looking shamany and his mule pepe, he gave me a big thumbs up as I sniffed the cup.
So I sad down at my dream computer and logged onto Ravenfield...well first I checked the news for the next week Read something on spacex etc. then I checked Rf forums. I went to one of the subsections that only exist on dream version. I think the “words/stories” one. I was looking to see if ( ) had posted something since i knew the first part was with her. (I knew I was dreaming of course)
there was a new post. It was very long. The letters were in a pleasant red with depth like flowing gentle flame or warm. Red means something about with me in my dream color scheme. So I read. But ahh, whole paragraphs are in the most wonderful, luminous gold like light coming out of the dream monitor, like sun rays. Im reading along thinking “i remember this”, this seems a bit different, Ahh I didn’t think of this in this way but I see a link now! Really enjoying what i was reading. Sipping my fresh brewed java from the cloud forests of south America. Hehe. Then my dream Skype window beeps. Its ( ) but not quite. Her dream form/double. Well hello So we chat a bit laughing but she tells me, that it would be best if I forgot what I just read, for her own sake in the tonal. Its all saved but it would..hmm be distracting from something more immediate. Same for me, and I clearly agreed since i had chosen to forget myself for now. But since it was in part mine, it was a request not a statement. So I reviewed it again and agreed that she was probably right. I made a joke about convincing yourself you know how you are...but the reply to this was just a emote of a tongue sticking out and rolling eyes. So I laughed said fine. And then...i forgot. I remembered reading and the letters, the little observations I had following along and recalling my own, but the actual recall, content was just...not there. Poof. I could even re read the post, but the words evaporated as soon as I put the into thoughts. So I replied OK its done and goodnight (or is it good morning lol) and logged off. I did finish my cup of Joe though. And then i went back to my in dream bed and went back to “sleep” in sleep. I then half woke jotted down a few notes about this experience to fix THAT memory at least. And slipped right back into sleep. Bit I didn’t quite forget everything. Here are my exact notes from that part. “How power sees Bled word we recall/deep in and/then out”. I also noted dream waking coffee, words, Skype, agreement. Was interesting.
The next dream was returning from a distant place we had been camping. I was with my family, but not my tonal one. So lots of people were there. ( )...pretty much all of ( ) and some others i think my friend ( ) etc. But we were all leaving in different directions, or in smaller groups. Back towards where we live I guess. We were camping on a sky plateau, like a mesa, a sky island that was heavily forested but could look out see a red desert like the painted desert all around. It was somewhere more distant though, because even for ( ) to get back to ( ) would be a long trip. For some reason we walked, I think we had to climb down to where we left vehicles. I wasn’t sure how I got there, I didn’t see my red sport scar. ( ) said I didn’t want to scratch the undercarriage I had set it too low to look stylish cruising on paved roads. The road here was rough some parts paved some gravel or washed out. So we found were vehicles were left by a lake, a pretty little lake in a deep cleft valley in the side of a mountain which was shorter (the mountain) then the sly plateau. The plateau was beyond the atmosphere somehow. Wolf and ( ) got onto very futuristic looking motorcycles. I still wasn’t sure how I got here but I knew for a fact I didn’t want to be clinging to either of them on the back of the bike like holding on...it was a funny thought...like some chic on the back of a bike. I don’t even own any leather chaps. Lol. ( ) saw my thoughts and started laughing real clear, and nicely, and pointed me to her friend. This guy looked kinda tough. I think his head was shaved, and he had a well groomed goatee and mustache combo. He had like mike Tyson tatoes maruri types on his arms and was tall and buffed out. She laughed said he brought me a jeep, I had the longest trip back to California. It was a cool off road jeep with roll bars and floodlights on the top. It was tan colored. The tough looking guy winked and gave me the keys said don’t worry he would pick it up from where i left my red car and kinda vanished into a portal. So I waved goodbye and started driving. Hah the radio started belting out appropriate driving music. Kick start my heart by motley crue. Excellent.
Sometime latter I find my way back into the buildings in the clouds. Cloud drifts all over the earth. This time, it looks like a high tech base or lair, not a the Chinese imperial palace. When I show up im the only one there. So I start turning things on. I came to find and give out specific colored gauntlets, bracelets. It seems higher then the clouds more like low earth orbit. I can see clouds below even. So I turn thing son but before i get everything ready some greedy people show up. Like they felt the energy turning on and rushed to come. One of them seemed like ( ) but im not sure. Regardless, they were real people and they came to take the bracelets. So I locked them all up and just took my blue one. I didn’t have time to form a whole iron man suite or some other representation of protection from it. So I just kept melting as a cloud to different levels until they got frustrated and when I did the place shut down a bit. So they left. But two the cloud wouldn’t expel. So when the rest of the jerks left, a man and a women were left. They seamed a bit frightened. So I came out of the cloud and said hello and bowed like a diplomat or ninja hehe. I made some small talk two of the bracelets were for them they weren’t bad just kinda stuck in with the wrong crowd not sure how to get out. So I gave them hugs. And their colored bracelets. Then they sorta fell back to earth slowly. At first i was worried. I made a vortex, whirlwind, but of light clouds not dark, and moved it around somewhat randomly to pull them back up. They thought this was fun, but they assured me it was OK they were just falling back to their bodies so I let them drift off again. But then I randomly swept the vortex around to find all the other people I needed to give these too. So id pull people up by two and threes into the funnel. And offer the devices. Hah I recognized people from here, some I didn’t recognize but I knew them what color they got. So that’s what I did, swirl, pull, greet, offer (everyone knew their colors and accepted them) and then watch them drift back to earth. Well there were some bands no set color so if extra people came they could get those kinds they would infill according to the peoples nature. But these were lesser gauntlets. Now the lower clouds are clearing I draw up the last two people...its Hawaii, the big island clear as day below me. These two were on vacation get the last colored ones. But someone who wasn’t meant to get pulled up somehow figures out how to get in the tunnel. It looks like a tourist guy but hes not right at all. So I gently reverse the process to put him back before he gets all the way up. But the cloud place has its own idea it dunks him off several hundred mile sin the sea....but I look again hes sitting on a raft with a radio calling for help he will be OK. Whew. When its done I I become a cloud again and start drifting across the sky. I make it rain on an island that looks dry. I laugh because “Make it rain” is what rappers will say when they spread money around a club or something. But it fits. Rain, energy/life. So im a happy little cloud then.
Latter, im in a setting like a classroom, but its not in a university I think, more like a large conference center. At first im working alone. We have a block of text, like a paragraph, and we need to pull out the energy words, mostly descriptors of objects like “ball” or “locomotive” “food” and string them together write a deeper narrative from just them. Or deconstruct each one and right a singular narrative about each. These are real short like a sentence not long. It important to do it correctly. So at first im on my own doing it but im not really paying attention. Im looking at the instructor a bit too much. Hehe shes very beautiful and has on the most interesting red top. I mean the arms are like red see through silk fine weave lace, and there are rings on a few fingers the sleeves attach too, And the top shows a bit of cleavage but tastefully, it looks very fancy. It snot the cleavage per say, lol, I keep wanting to look at that top and how it moves and such. So im doodling in the margins pulling words out of that, and I even draw a picture of a torso from an angle it seems. But everyone else is doing the assignment. I often do my own thing and turn it in don’t care. But then ( ) asks me how I did one word. And ( ) is listening. And my friend ( ) is kinda I see paying attention too. So I think well, there is no reason we cant work together. So we all sit in a circle around a small table. And I do a few, and explain every step. Then ( ) and ( ) and my friend ( ) all do a piece, and we are getting it done super fast. The instructor says something like...if you have only gotten to this point, your not going to get it done... But she is smiling we are breezing through that part and moving on. We are just flying through it, and then cross connecting are observations and having the time to so third and fourth level analysis as we progress.
The teacher figure starts watching over our shoulder what we are doing smiling, but she isn’t saying anything just seems pleased. She taps my shoulder gentle and I turn to talk to her. The others aren’t disturbed keep going. She points to the stuff I was doing from the red top, and the picture. I read those words. Hug. Weaving. Energy. Attention. Soft. Things like that. And look at the picture...where did I even find a red pencil color? I start to blush a bit. She smiles and leans into my ear. She tells me “Most men tend to exaggerate the breasts, I noticed you made them smaller and put more attention on the sleeves and folds of silk. And sorta smiled in my ear a bit. I was uhh ahhh turned as red as the dress. I started trying to erase the words and picture...and then it was gentle silent laughter. I stopped and laughed myself. I tore off that piece of my work paper. It was long and thin like several lotto slips and like papyrus. I said “here you go” and laughed and smiled. She took it and gave me a quick brush of the check and went on instructing. I looked around but nobody else noticed this. I had a flash of that song “ hot for teacher” and then laughed where the people with me could here. They all looked puzzled. ( ) asked me about a line she had just done I said oh yes, that’s very well Bridged. And we finished the work. And the excersise was done we left into a courtyard like at a fancy conference center.
A familiar women walks up to talk to me. The last time I remember talking to her, it was a week before the ipad was released, and she had one, and introduced me to Steve jobs and he gave me my dream one and the name ipad....before the unveiling. I hurt her feelings then it seemed, when she was done interviewing me in context of the larger story, She told me I was the most “interesting man in the world” after i explained a few things to her. At the time this made me stutter and say what? Then she asked me a blunt question i really stuttered and blushed about and then said “that’s not what I meant, im not like PEOPLE”. (asked if I would be her husband and I stuttered how im really not too well put together for such things) she got offended that I meant physical world stuff...or hurt a bit. Well nothing like that this time, she was friendly and gave me a hug. Then we started walking and talking. She is/was a reporter, but a spirit one. Or writer. Im not sure exactly. Like she writes and then the world conforms to the narrative. So we are walking. Shes writing elon musk, and the future, commercial space. She brings me to meet a man ive never met before to talk too, and we have a long conversation. About space and time and memes and the cource of future history...my ideas and perceptions. He is fascinating to talk too. And attentive. The reporter lady is taking note on her dream ipad, like a reporter. Then she asks me a question. She said she was interviewing a man from a company called Tspace, they had an interesting orbital idea too, why do I not support them with my attention and energy to the extent I do elon musk and spacex? So I answered. The support isn’t because space or equipment or even invention is interesting on its own. Its because that man is improbable. Many people dream of making a different future, but few do anything. But this guy, he ran from our dream conversations almost 20 years ago about online payments, and has done one thing then the ext thing, like it was dreamed. because he has the big concern, about life and existence and humanity. Like all sorts do and have done. But how many of them start changing the world, doing the hard work, teach themselves rocket science, to get to that end goal. And succeed...step after step, in the face of all the worlds inertia. Its improbable, unbelievable, and deeply magic. So its not the company I support, or some persons idea, no its that startling amazing focus, such clear intent. To go from being a broke immigrant to actually going into space, and the step by step, clear intent to change the world to make it possible. Thats the difference between the one company and others, they are just ways of making money. Even if interesting. And that is why the fates themselves will re write the script, ad they are so unmovable. But...a lone man, or group, if they are clear and of good intent, can change the very course of history, and the architects, if inspired, will bend the world in ways they usually would not, to support and make a path for that intent.
Like sorcery. Thats why. But I shared it in energy. She looked up at me and smiled, and said “I will definitely quote you on this in my story, again. Thank you”. I finished my conversation with the strange man. And we left together walking a bit (I walked her to her exit portal). But it was pleasant small talk. She asked me to look at her shoes. They were low high heels, and had on white stockings and a stylish but not too low mini skirt, and a matching top and vest. She asked if I liked the shoes. I said err yes they are quite lovely. ( Edit: this was a funny trick, she pecke dmy cheek while i was looking at the shoes trying to think why i needed to complemet them what to say lol) She laughed and gave me a kiss on the cheek and and waved goodbye and left. How odd...again. Lol. What a character hehe.
The last dream im in a penthouse with glass walls. One of the windows is cracked and ive hung a few curtains around just in case a bird decided to look in as I was using the toilet. I was laying on the floor. I see a person tapping on the glass. Its my brother. I get up groggy (I fella sleep in the living room?) and go around and open a sliding door to a balcony and my brother lands. I had just watched galaxy quest again last night before bed, so im laughing how it looks like the commanders house in the hill. Bit im on top of a large skyscraper in los angeles not on a hill. I talk to my brother some about what hes up to in the south atm driving those ( ). Hes excited he saw an alligator close tot he tracks. Stuff like that. I realize I don’t own this penthouse, it was assigned to me as I study. And how removed I am from the city below. Just wake when I wake and sleep where I sleep. I sit on the balcony rubbing my eyes awake and drinking some coffee, enjoying the city going on so far down below. And I feel a bit bored. Like I need to get out and walk around. And the glass house needs some new windows. I must have thrown a stone or two. Hehe.
Im walking around the dream college. Somebody sees me and waves. But im not happy to see him. He was a bully to me in Jr high, but grown up now. He begins walking with me calling me old friend. I say sure we are friends why not hehe. But he has an edge like he is wondering if he can get “on top” of me energetically. He cant, but he might make me prove it. Then two more guy. Ahh the other two that once took that roll. Great. They are talking but im wary. They had told a few others how they were above me and still must be. So I see jerks looking smiling at them knowing. One of them makes a comment I don’t like. I laugh don’t make me claim I have a gun in my green backpack. (its a long story from jr high with me) they laugh start calling me gun guy like a taunt. Ahh this. Again. I say “gentleman, I appreciate the role you had in shaping my life, but It never was what you thought. Stick around too long without that understanding, and I may demonstrate what I mean. And winked. And they turned white. And stopped I kept walking a bit, and called them by name. Tim, John, Francisco...aren’t you guys coming? I think you were mentioning something you wanted to tell me? They gulped a bit and said they had to get to class. I said “maybe latter then” how did you guys say it “After school?” then I laughed said no of course not, I kid. Have a nice day in class. Whew, problem averted. Fin. Lol.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-06-2012
"Seven Nation Army"
I'm gonna fight 'em off
A seven nation army couldn't hold me back
They're gonna rip it off
Taking their time right behind my back
And I'm talkin' to myself at night
Because I can't forget
Back and forth through my mind
Behind a cigarette
And the message comin' from my eyes says leave it alone...
Don't wanna hear about it
Every single one's got a story to tell
Everyone knows about it
From the Queen of England to the hounds of hell
And if I catch it comin' back my way
I'm gonna serve it to you
And that ain't what you want to hear
But that's what I'll do
And the feeling coming from my bones says find a home...
I'm going to Wichita
Far from this opera forevermore
I'm gonna work the straw
Make the sweat drip out of every pore
And I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding, and I'm bleeding
Right before the lord
All the words are gonna bleed from me
And I will think no more
And the stains comin' from my blood tell me "Go back home"...
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-21-2012
No matter what you think you pulled
You'll find it's not enough
No matter who you think you know
You won't get through
It's a given L.A. law
Someone's faster on the draw
No matter where you hide
I'm coming after you (you)
No matter how the race is run
It always ends the same
Another room without a view
Awaits downtown
You can shake me for a while
Live it up in style
No matter what you do
I'm going to take you down
Shakedown, breakdown, takedown
Everybody wants into the crowded line
Breakdown, takedown
You're busted
Let down your guard, honey
Just about the time you're thinkin' it's all right
Breakdown, takedown
You're busted
It's okay you want to shine
But once you step across that line
No matter where you hide
I'm coming after you
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 06-27-2012
6/26/12
Easter Egg Hunt
I only woke once, needing/wanting to record a dream. The latter ones “felt” similar, but before waking I didn’t feel a desire or need to recap or recall them so I let them fade into being impressions and feelings, as opposed to words and stories. When I do that, im left with a different kind of feeling, energy from dreaming. When im recording, or writing, I generally only do so if there is energy from the dream or a specific intent to be written, not sure how to explain but I try and do so every couple posts it seems.
I was almost alone. I do not recall from before, but it seems like it was a hard life, hungry, on edge, never resting easy. There was a girl with me, maybe a bit younger. In not sure if it was sister, or not, it was close but not defined. We were “found” by beings i could not quite remember, and left in a school. It was like a boarding school. When the dream story picked up, I had already been there for years? In sleep. Waking, sleeping, keeping quiet at the edges, going to class. It was full of people younger then me, then one solder...like up to late teens. In the dream, I was no older then 11 or 12 years of age.
The girl and I would often sit, alone, and talk, or read, or stay out of the way of the older children. They had their own social structure and pecking order, big kids and small, loud, and although we were all in uniforms, like at a catholic school, our shoes gave away our “poverty”. That was the one customizable piece of the uniform. We had plain, durable but inexpensive shoes. A bit old. That, and other small details, set people apart. Also we didn’t have the pedigree of “parents” or “where we came from, or big stories about where we were going”. It didn’t seem too bad, we just stayed to ourselves. We had more friends, another girl and a very young little boy. So there were like four of us really. The different people on the fringes. One day, after class, I saw my face in the mirror. It looked like I did, at 11, but my hair was platinum blond or just platinum, one of the girls hair was like this as well I recall, the one I came here with. The other girls hair was brown, and the little boys hair was very blonde but thin.
A holiday came. It was Easter, but there was a spring snowstorm, and the boarding school was cut off for a bit. So the teachers did their best, hosting a holiday for the students. Sometimes they would stay for the students like us who had no home to go too, so there were always some staff on hand. In that way, we were somewhat closer to some of the staff then our fellow students, but that just made us more not isolated form the other students...but again, it was better then before, being afraid for survival itself all the time.
The holiday itself, was magic. Rather then hide eggs, power itself would manifest treats, baskets, eggs. But only for those who looked. So one still had to “hunt” for “power” and “baskets with candy/eggs” some eggs were food, others were like Faberge eggs covered with gems and crystals. So children and teens would scramble, seeking. Small children would go for the candy. Older children would seek food items like eggs or warm bread like cinnamon bread, still steaming. The older children tended to be more greedy, they only would seek the gems covered ones, that’s all they saw of real “value” what the “desired”. Power made them work the hardest for those, and they were in short supply. So the social structure the larger and louder students had came into play. Who was allowed to take what, and if they found it, the “bosses” would take their share, first picks. They didn’t even look, they sent others to look while they counted the returns. I...it was hard. They started organizing even down to the egg and bread level, and soon, they were even controlling the candy. They were careful not to deprive anyone of those things, but they slanted it so that the gifts of power had to go through them, for approval, then THEY were the ones who wee to be thanked by providing what spirit gifted. It made me very sad. I was street, sorta, I knew what was going on, and it wasn’t a harmless game like it seemed to teachers. Or did it? Regardless, my friends were small, or shy, and outside that structure in the school, so we were “allowed” to seek little, and keep nothing. I was not going to stand for that. So I went out, seeking as I do, finding eggs and candy, even a gem egg or two. Put them in a little basket, I asked power for something to hold them in. I was careful only to SEE and FEEL what were gifts for us, and I went to them. Once i understood, I didn’t need to look. When I felt a chocolate rabbit for the little one, it simply materialized in front of me. So then I didn’t really have to look after awhile. When spirit had given us all that it felt was out share, or that we could use, I was happy, the basket was overflowing. I found some bread and egg of “mine” and began eating it as I walked back to my friends. They had found a few things too, out in our side room hat was unused save by us, but as they usually were, they were busy playing dolls and jacks, and avoiding the others. We always used this room, when we were here alone in the summer when the other students had left.
A older girl is there, her job was just to watch us and snitch if we do anything, or leave, to the boss students. She sees me smiling and whistling as I chew my bread and egg, and she grabs my basket. She said I was hoarding, taking all this for myself, not sharing it out to the leader, mayor, for him to decide who is “most deserving” she pulls me by my ear towards the main room with one hand, and snatches the basket away with the other and is quite rough. At first I plead and try to explain, and even try to explain how to see power and just find its gifts directly, I think that was the point after all, not the actual things. But she doesn’t listen, and then the in crowd, when im dragged up tot hem, aren’t listening either.
I try and explain, but it makes them more angry, hostile, hateful in a restrained way. They dump out my basket, and say I had so much, it some then they had all together found, so therefore, I must have TAKEN all from them. I tried to explain again, I only found what was willed for the four of us to find, if they’d only listen they’d each have such a bounty, but one of them smacked me on the face. It turned very red. Then I began to cry in frustration.
This brought a teacher, but also like an older nun type. She always seemed so severe, I hardly ever talked to her she acted....odd around us. But she was always in the background, hovering, once I almost saw her smiling when we were playing dolls. I didn’t like to play dolls, I like dot play swords in the garden by the yew tree, but the girls liked to play dolls sometimes and to be honest I sorta liked it too sometimes. Sometimes that nun/teacher would hover and listen to the stories we made for the dolls, not quite paying attention but I could tell she was. So she seemed OK. She was always here. So then the other students pronounced their judgement on me, and us, being greedy. They Said my face was red because I got so mad being asked to share. Not because they struck me. That i cried tears of greed for the loss of my stolen treats. I tried to yell, thats not true! You struck me, and you steal from my friends, and the little ones! But as soon as I spoke the nun gave me a stern, penetrating look. Then a male teacher came and listened to their story, and seemed to buy into it. He turned a cool eye on me. The other students said “they simply don’t belong, they aren’t the right sort of people at all” the male teacher looked hard at me. The head student took the basket, and the others went back to their dividing and seeking games. The teachers spoke about “grave concerns” but i was so broken in spirit now I hardly listened. I sat facing a wall, and slumped my head and silently sobbed.
The nun teacher I could feel behind me, it had gone quiet save for my sobs. “Look at me” she commanded. I looked up and turned around, seeing her through tear streaked eyes. She was emanating light, it reminded me of when the when I saw the sun through my almost closed eyes. Very energetic. I of course remembered my life here, this age, this place, but it was like one of the stories...infact it WAS one of the stories, we acted out with the dolls in play, so it was like a life imagined, my knowing of self, here, me, this age. So I looked up at her, my eyes must have held more sadness, or grief, then I would have thought, and it wasn’t because of the treats or basket. It was the rest of it. The teacher looked into my eyes. Then there was no separation between us, she was I and I was her, but I wasn’t aware, so mostly she was me...I saw. I saw so much. I saw stories.
I am in another world. I am a hobo? A homeless man? Something like that. I sleep on a bed of cardboard and have only my rags to keep me warm. But im like I am now, I can see. There is a man, a man who lives in a gleaming tower in a city. I see, people, women sometimes go up to his tower. Then I see, a day latter, bundles tied, trash bags, left in a dumpster in the ally. Im just the homeless man, so he doesn’t thing to see if I can see. He looks young, but I look again. He is like a mannequin, around the joints are floating rings like razor wire, and the eyes seem dead, cold. But outside, he is a warm man, a handsome man. Children and police, women trust and like him. But im not fooled. I sleep in a trashcan.
Im not so easily deceived it seems. When im sure, about my seeing. I do something to the fence by the dumpster. Something that will interact with his rings, and harm no other. So one night. I pretend to be asleep, I see him, coming out. With a body. He dumps it, then stands and pleasures himself over it by the fense. His arm, with a ring, hits the chain link. It is stuck. Then he gets drawn to the fence like a magnet. He cries in shock, then he sees me. Sleeping on the cardboard, looking. He screams, he curses,
he promises wealth and such, free me! I demand it! Or you will be cursed. My face curls back, not a laugh, or a smile, A look like animal, teeth bared. A snarl perhaps. I have like 4 teeth. And then, slowly, that thing, that man dies. The fence you see, the rings, it shifted them, his form is cut, his invulnerable form. On the outside, it looks like he was hung from the fence. But really it is the rings.
I see latter. The police find him, it is in all the headlines. This great man. Killed by a filthy transient. I am never taken to trial, the police beat me to death in the ally, slowly, mocking, taunting. I never do more then raise my arm, to cover my eyes, I do not want to see. So like that, on my bed of newspaper and trash, I die, my life runs out. But I don’t leave right away. A few days latter, the trail of bodies. The great man, is exposed. Its not a matter of vindication. The nobody and nothing snuffed out in the ally, thats just swept away. No link. But it was done.
And then I see some of the life, before this school, I had forgotten. Same being I guess. Not even like earth. The children, living in the ruins, like Warsaw between the German and soviet invasion. Eating well little, cats and rats were long eaten. Eating even ****, to stay alive. Bodies? Sad. So from here we came. Orphans. I see...it was THIS nun and the male teacher, who found us, who nursed us to “sanity” and then placed us in this school. Where they say we don’t belong. So she saw...no I saw all of that. Then I...she saw with the basket and eggs. She knew. She knew I was struck, and why I cried, and what the other children did, under the teachers, notice, their games which were not games. She grew hard, but not at me. We “looked” to prove. At the other children...how they wasted no time taking what spirit had given us, greedily eating and hiding and sharing t out as rewards for their evil deeds. Now the teacher was upset...sad. She held me in one arm, and went to the male teacher. They touched awareness, and shared again between them. His face went very pale...with seeing. And maybe some shame for believing the others. They conferred what to do. But first, they gave me a basket, with lunch, and a living song, like a book. So I returned to my friends, in our small room And we opened the song, and ate the lunch, and then we lay down to rest, and we were happy.
I was out of dreaming per say for awhile, as I slept, happy. I just felt what happened. The school got empty again, in time. The girl left with the female teacher, for a time not because we were bad, but because we were “good”. The bad students went home for summer as usual. I was here. The male teacher stayed to maintain the schools “reality” needed one always. The lesser teachers leave like the students for the summer. Groundskeepers stay on too. I am a little sad, but I sleep. I know the feeling, I feel when we are apart, the feeling I feel when we all play, is called love. Just me and it and the teacher. I am still, I lay on a bed. I feel the sun, and here the insects of summer. From this I am drawn out again.
Now it snot a school. Now its a glade, a clearing in a forest, on the top of a hill. It is night, and the stars shine with such life above. The constellations are alive. I see the hunter, like a painting. I sit in the circle, by a campfire. The other students, hundreds, are around. Sitting. But they aren’t people. They are like forest sprites, and satyrs. And they all are hostile. Well not all most are indifferent, and many even friendly. But their chiefs are not friendly. The chiefs, the satyrs anyway, dance around with locked hands, around me and the fire. They kick me from time to time with goat feet, but little happens, I kneel impassively. I see from the eyes of the constellation, the hunter. He is the king. I see I wear clothes like of woven tree bark. On the bark clothes, are symbols. I see the rune with three prongs, and many others, alive like burning bark, on my clothes. They kick and kick, and look more afraid. They don’t notice. The nymphs and few satyrs who were behind them, in their kicking circle, have gone and sat down and watch, and hum. Only this small circle remains hostile. They draw closer, and closer, like trying to push me into the fire. Finally they do, they are so close. But then they begin to burn too. But these few, maybe 12, are so determined to do this, hateful, they don’t notice. I look up, and the collapse in, in on the flame, on me, im in the middle. They burn, and shriek, and are gone. I sit n the center of the fire, it feels alive. I look tot he stars, and see they too are fire. And then the flames dwindle. And I sit alone in the center. And I know it is done. And the beings around me now are my friends, or my tribe. Now I wear robes of white and gold, with golden and red flaming runes. I think it looks a bit too much like seen to be an importance thing. The hunter laughs at me nicely with flame in his eye stars. And I wake to write. Fin.
Edit: The one song actually from dream i didnt use was that "amaranth" one but ive posted it enough hehe
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 07-20-2012
6/27/12
Hey Diddle Diddle
Hey diddle diddle,
The Cat and the fiddle,
The Cow jumped over the moon,
The little Dog laughed to see such sport,
And the Dish ran away with the Spoon
Some of this dreaming, is hard for me to write, to tell, to speak to. But because of that, not despite it, I owe myself the responsibility of doing so, in the same way I seem to be fine talking about and sharing most everything else. So here goes, after much dithering and looking for a reason Not to do so. Lol.
The dream unfolds, to start, in a more spacious version of my home. It makes it feel less cozy, more empty. I had been playing a game on the computer, like Grand theft auto liberty city, or maybe saints row three or something like that, an open world, bit over the top game. I spend, as I actually do, to the extent I still play games, which isn’t very often, just looking for mods to create a version of the world that is just so. Feels fun...not that I go on to actually play the games after I do. I just like fiddling with them and building mostly. I like games like civilization or sim city, the sims for that reason, more then anything else anymore. So im on my computer, wasting time doing so. Well, as I do in the waking world, im actually extending dreaming into the activities, and working on myself, in some esoteric way by doing so. Like when I waste time in videos, or sitting outside just seeing. It seems similar anyway to me. So it was done, I was done playing. I saved my edits and shut down my computer. I stretched and yawned, it was about 9pm. I walked into the spacious living room, and pause dot look at art pieces, new ones we don’t have in the real world as I did so. I went to the bathroom, did my bathroom business (I was drinking coffee the whole time of course) and thought about my dreaming life (this real one) a bit. And laughed thinking how on the other side, I would flip that perception of real and dream. Funny thoughts i like playing with both in dreaming and waking. Only thing that changes is which I “choose” to label real and which is more ethereal. So im in a happy enough mood.
I heard my nephew playing in the living room, with a friend, either xbox or ps3. Oddly enough, when I went out there just now, after writing this paragraph, he is here with that friend, and they are playing ps3 having a camp out party eating popcorn and playing. It was much like that in the dream. In the dream, my nephew had the same game I did, the console version, and the mechanism for modding maps was much more difficult. He used the kinnect motion controller to grab and drop things into the world. He took a red house. Red cherry wood. He was by an ocean, and he found a spot on a bluff, on a small peninsula out into the game sea. And dropped the “house”. It worked. A three story sprawling house, vaguely Asian themed, like The California craftsman style, but such red wood, unfolded and grew, with a stair to the sea, and a small hill on the garden. Look I told him, look! Excited. We went into the house, it was so lovely, the waves crashing on the shore, clouds and sun, boats on the bay. I took him outside, excited, to the small hill. There was a mine. And two gnomes, maybe goblins. Nice ones. One you could touch get power, money, and the other you spent money for nifty game Armour and items. He touched the item one first, so lost his saved points. Now he didn’t have enough to buy the mine. He started to cry. I sat him down, and said its OK. Just play some more, you almost still have enough. With this Armour, it will be fine. The Armour gnome/goblin chimed in, yes, yes, I sold you what you needed. The mine gnome, who would tirelessly generate gold/mana/power said yes! You are very close. Id do it on credit but that snot how this works. Just play a bit more. Your only ( ). Or sleep, you’ll have enough, THEN I can mine for you little one. They were very odd, and silly little goblins. Very nice. I remembered them, and this house, it was I have seen it before ind reams, I had packaged it and kept it. I used to play there, when I was younger too. So I was glad he found it and could integrate it. Really, really just happy.
We leave the house by the sea, back out through the gateway of the television. I go and prepare myself a sandwich. Ham, sweet mustard, sauerkraut, and I melt Swiss cheese over the meat. On the bread was rye of course. I toasted the whole thing in the oven. I laugh at myself for not using mayonnaise. I say to myself, you must be getting kosher in maturity sen, Well, aside from the ham and cheese on the meat. Lol. I responded to myself...i never claimed to be Orthodox! Lol. Had a bit of this lighthearted back and forth between levels of myself going on in the dream, like hanging with an old friend. It was nice. I sat and ate the meal at the kitchen table. I got a big dollop of mustard on my shirt. I looked around mischievously, making sure the coast was clear, and simply put the part of my shirt with the mustard n my mouth and sucked it off, like a child might and laughed. I made more of a mess that way...so I got a paper towel and some dish soap and hastily cleaned my shirt. Good as new. And the mustard still tasted great, tangy and sweet. Nice. Lol. Now I was fed, and well rested, relaxed. I went to see my nephew again. But he had left while I was a busy. I saw a note. It read:
“Unkle. I Went to Friends house dad said R ok. Im going to see my friend from internet he is small too. You are invited to come as well, they said. See you latter. Can you bring my backpack? I left my crayons in it I want to do some drawings. C U latter ”
I had a momentary worry, but I saw it was as it said, he went to a friends house, they were friends. Its dream? World of course he could just do so on his own. I decide to go none the less to be watchful, so I take a shower...i never remove my clothes, and this bugs me a bit, for some reason...why do I always do it in that way in dreams. I chuckle at my quirks, but the other me, self, I had such an easy and fun loving dialogue with this night does not respond. I feel a small pang of worry at this, but It is a small thing. So I exit the shower, I feel fully clean. Ready to go. I put on the small backpack, black straps and green outside, not very sturdy a small child’s school pack, not expensive, and leave. I even find my walking stick. I have it again good. And then im off, traveling.
When traveling, its like walking through a dream without form...which is exactly what it was, so the memory is precise for all its fuzziness. And im at the house. It is small, its now almost 10pm. I ring the doorbell and somebody tells me to to come on in. I do so. Its seems empty. My nephew is playing with another smaller child in a main room. But they seem tired, no that snot correct, like they will wake soon. The opposite of tired in truth, but on the other side of the mirror, it is being tired. One goes to sleep to wake. I see them playing and go up to them, and they both smile. But first my nephew yawns and then fades, and then the smaller child. Well, what now. It was a long walk, and adults can stay “up” latter, so I think to find the adults here. Its not that easy. There is a man, I see him, but hes always in another room. Not avoiding exactly, but if I get close he looks and goes into another room. So there isn’t much space for conversation as such. I have a good idea who that at least is.
But there is also a woman there. She is wearing a white bathrobe, a fuzzy one. She must have taken a shower before. I keep eye contact as we speak, because im not intending to notice that it is loosely tied. It fine but im a bit...apprehensive. Internally, not from danger. But from my self. No for worry over behavior, no its something deeper, and older. We talk for a long while, about things. She seems real, but..energy is a bit...i would say drunk, but that snot it, very...energetic, drunk with life, power, awareness, its hard to explain. I worry a bit about one might do, what one might say or see in such a state, hoping its not contagious and I don’t disturb my painfully crafted balance. She is Sitting on a couch. Then I think its time to sleep, and I find a bed. I just sit on it. Then she comes into the room too. And sits not too close but on the bed as well. I make some observation, and get up to talk with my hands, and illustrate something. But its really a pretense to move, when I sit back down im in a chair. Smooth (), real smooth that voice thinks at me a bit sarcastically. First time ive spoken with him in a bit. “like Elvis painted on black velvet baby!” I say out loud, but to myself, trying to diffuse this unease with MYSELF and in MYSELF with humor. It falls flat. “What was that?” she asks. I say oh nothing, just having a running dialogue with the wind I laugh...nothing interesting, the wind actually BLOWS as a conversationalist believe it or not...I see the expression I say “i know, who would have thunk it?”. Still not quite connecting in myself with humor. It grows silent for a time, then she says “look at me”. She has completely opened the robe, from neck down to the pubic area, and is laying back on the bed. So I try and make eye contact. “No” she says “Look AT me”
The resistance in me, its almost like a hum now. But I do. Despite myself, I do. I try and dart my eyes away but I can feel hers, looking at me. What she is doing, its not bold, or commanding. I see, vulnerability, even worry in her eyes, but beyond that, determination. I think that this is no more easy or flippant for her to be seen then it is for me to see. Thats the thing, that shames me, moves me not to look away. So I look. I see the area below, where the hair starts, then grows into a patch. I look up slowly, at the navel. This isnt an idealized form, not airbrushed, it looks real, like a person. As real as I might, as any of us. Time, age, life. Neither this thing or that. Just as it is. I look up, I continue to see. I look a the breasts. Hold my gaze. Then I make eyes contact again. Just sit like that, for a few moments.
Then she asks, “will you stay with me, this night?” I am silent and I get up start walking around again, say well people would worry, And I need to find my nephew...And I have to feed the dogs in the morning...and I... there is no response. So I sit again. I feel like the fool I must sound like. She asks again. “please look at me”. So I do. “look at my chest” So I do. What do you see? She asks. Well I see breasts I think. But when she asks there is some...vulnerability. So I look closer. Are they weird or something? Is one bigger? Are there three? I don’t know. What is she asking. They seem normal, real, im no real expert. But what I hear is...wise. Like what my excuses were about. My own image of self. So I look again. Nothing seems wrong or broken, or ugly. I even see energy coming out and some spots are darker then others. Something in me finally clicks, some lesson. I get up, very tired, and go and sit next to her. I sit with my head down and look at my hands. I give a real reason I wont stay. Its the same reason in dreams I wont shower with my clothes off. The thing the inner voice stopped laughing about with me.
So I speak quietly, in my voice, I hear her own trepidation as I looked, but unlike her, I didn’t have the bravery? Wisdom? To see and say past it. I hardly was speaking. I talked a bit, specifically, about abuse, and ahh physical problems from it. She asked. “So when you get that fixed, if it didn’t matter, then you would...stay? For even one night?” Such a simple question. Really, is it such a big deal, I mean lots of people have imperfections. I think even she showed me some of her own, but I couldn’t even really see whatever she thought they might be...i needed clues from her energy. So then, outside of her perception, how big a deal could they be? What if...im the same, im just too self centered, fixated on the past, to see anything but an exaggerated, negative view of myself. Thats a form of egotism isn’t it? How many times, have I hurt other peoples feelings, pulling away, Avoiding. I think of the lady reporter from the dream, how hurt she was until she saw me better, checked, and then how nice she was, supportive. Si guess I would say yes, but really, thats not really the issue, this or that. Everything perfect in a way things never are. I got that, finally, a bit. I think. But what can I say. I look up and smile, and start clowning. I say “Damn you know it Girl? Id be all up in yo gril 4 shizy!” The most ridiculous playa fake talk I could act out, and did a somersault. Again it fell flat, in myself. She told me.
“Why are you so estranged, from yourself” I knew what she meant, and it was said gently. Im afraid of nothing, im unconcerned and open, but the closer I get to the real me, in dreams, the more like this I become, but if its more abstract, im not like this at all. Sigh. I don’t know what to say now. My inner voice, my other self, the feeling like wall of water, it wont leave me alone. So I get up, and wander around allot. Until she goes to bed. Then I gather the backpack, and make to leave. I see the man, who was in another room watching. I smile weakly, and prepare to go. I decide to use the backdoor, to leave by the backdoor, so no one hears me going.
I feel like a coward, or a wounded person slinking off. I laugh at myself the “rag doll” video by aerosmith, that song a line from it. Its irony. But it doesn’t cheer me really. No the music that comes...is estranged by guns and roses. Also, in me vision, I see words, like definitions in a screen floating in the sky, different words. Highlighted din red with all sorts of meanings. Estranged is the first word. Like she said, I am Estranged from my self somehow. My double. A resistance, fear, avoiding. I see the man looking again as I leave. I knew all along it was wolf. I just choose to pretend not to notice. I refused to speculate on the women, I said “from past or maybe a symbolic something whatever...symbolic flied in the face of being a real energy but whatever. I am and was quite set on keeping it at that. So the long, slow, sad song estranged plays.
I leave as I came, save out the backdoor, with my walking stick, and the backpack. I have allot of time in and with myself as I go. To think, or not think. Mostly about my silliness. So I have imperfections, so what. As she showed me, I think, we all do, and insecurities. It didn’t matter, to stay the night, it wasn’t such a silly thing. Even if it mattered enough to fix them, would it really change inside, im sure id find another excuse and another to avoid facing my own resistances inside. My god do I have to write about this in the other world? In ()? Will people think this or that. I don’t want to. But i remind myself. Do you think () was comfortable talking about the furry dream, that it was easy for him to face that? Or how about (), some of the stories she tells, as she perceives them, from her own dreams. Is she an exhibitionist of such things? No, shes even more private then I am, about such details of life etc. Or how about (), does she just throw things out there like they are nothing? Easy? on a lark? No. Just honestly. No she does not, she does so to communicate and share. So there I see, everyone else, being brave, having same reservations I might, but being mature and facing them, writing them. And im looking for an excuse not too, before im even awake. I see () around, helping people, quietly, in dreams, and I even presume to help sometimes, in some non specific ways. But really sen? You have trouble being honest with even yourself, but you presume to preach bravery and non concern, being bold and true? Healer...heal thy self. That makes me laugh. At both ends of the thought. Fine, fine, ill write this as I saw it, no more or less. Finally my double side eases up on me a bit. I mean its not like I need to change, or be different then my nature. I just need to let go of the self importance of fear and self judgment. I mean really, I would have been quiet and not a bold person regardless, and its not about actions in that sense, its about honesty, and resistance to power. Thats all. Lighten up. So no the impassive voice, not laughing at any of my jokes, is in turn cheering me up. Well thats good. I say well ill get back to it latter. Lets keep walking...maybe we will get lucky and have to fight of some vampire troll dolls. “thats the spirit” he tells me laughing, thats the spirit.
Somebody, when the music stopped, was reading a poem. It went:
“Sen how fast must you run, when the fear you see is only visible in the form of one who loves
How far must you go, when the bullet, from the gun you see, is attached to the hand you know.
You fear and think all see, what you see in the mirror you fear, but it is, only an idea. SEE!”
Something like that, but a bit more poetic perhaps. Alright I get it, well, I get I need to figure it out, loved the poem though thank you I feel something laughing in resonance wit me again. Hehe.
No vampire troll dolls. I had walked randomly, and had no idea where I was. It was a densely built street, with large homes. I see myself in a reflection in a puddle in the street. Wild hair, unkempt beard. Wearing pajamas with little baseballs and and athletes swinging bats on it. No shoes. And the pajamas were too small. And a backpack. I looked like a complete weirdo. Lol. Great. And I was walking with a staff. So it was with some hesitation, I walked to a house and called into it. “Excuse me madam, do you have any idea where I am, how to get back?” I said to a lady in the door. She said err...get back to were. Children saw me, from each house, and they all ran up to me and surrounded me like I was Santa clause. The parents all stood looking strange. Like deciding to shoot or just call the police. I said “please children, go back inside, I look weird enough sheesh” But they didn’t. So I opened the backpack and pulled out little things for each of them. Then they went away after some time, but I had a little train behind me of laughing children, as I went door to door asking directions. I walked along time. A day? Well the children trailed off, left, I figured just keep walking...if I walk long enough, im bound to come back to the other side right? Hehe. No. in time I came to a bright place, by a large modern mansion. Two men, were talking earnestly. About solar pumps and zero waste recycling pool water. How now they could not conserve, and it was just as friendly, to power, as being a miser. So leave the pool light son year round! How neat. Conservation is like dieting. Its not that fun, and if its not needed, well play away. I see the owner come out, he doesn’t pay me mind, I chime in my thoughts, and he turns. We talk a bit, he is polite enough not to be put off by my appearance. When I leave I say “thanks (), you always were a scholar and gentleman, for a guy that looked like don Johnson and was the opposite of me different girl every night and a serious student at the same time. Now he turns and sees me...thinking...drew? I say yea, hehe yea. And congratulations on all this in life my friend. And I meant it, it was really him, and he was in awe about a dream knowing so much. What a goof.
I wake and force myself to write notes, and go back to sleep
When I go back, many similar dreams, with people here, well similar to most knights. Adventures, traveling, playing. I remember the other dream, but its not for then, im not fixated I never am fixated its not my personality. So we have lots of fun, I see everyone. For hours ans hours of sleeping. Didn’t write to much about these adventures, I had my one that demanded I write it.
But the very last dream, also wanted my attention. I got a message, we were all going to meet. In (), either () house or (). Im not sure now. We were talking and talking, and I wasn’t the only one with apprehension or resistance. But it was decided. To try. So I nervously said I will come to...probably. If I could. Leaving myself a back door so to speak. Im not sure () or () were any more...certain? But no one wanted to be the first stinker to cancel. Lol. () was coming too. Others, but I hadn’t talked to them it was in the message.
The day in the dream went on. I had the gun in my hand, and I put a hole in a speaker, my brothers, it leaked some sort of sharp but not caustic liquid, like the inside was a liquid speaker. I played a game an old one i redid now a game from childhood when we were young...like a coleco or Nintendo. I let it drain, I was worried, I told him. It was like power. Now one was empty. I put it up, I would get a new one fix it. It would recharge. I went for a meal. To buy a burger, something. Restaurant after restaurant long lines, something off. Meaning in that, with beings. A repeat dream ive had many variations. I cut to the chase here just ordered a lamb jhyro from the winking Greek or Turkish man who always kept some good stuff for me. Wheew. I was ready to come back home. So I check the messages again. I look in a mirror. What will they see when they come. I don’t look like me now. Im still my age sorta. But y hair is long like my senior year of high school., like halfway down my back. And its wild. And im so slender. Like 110 pounds, same height, like I am now. It looks OK, because i really have a slender frame. My eyes are so green, like anime, or computer generated. I laugh, I kinda look like a really ugly woman with a huge Adams apple, like I did then. Sometimes id be in shops, and people would say “excuse me mam” until I turned around and they saw the little mustache, then they’d often say ohhh... embarrassed. And id always laugh and put them at ease. Make a joke. So I comb my hair. Ill put it in a dude pony tail. Gee...is my mom around she used to help me with that lol. Laughing like that. I open my mouth and I don have teeth, I have broken pieces of blackened bone and such...no thats a tooth at an angle. Another insecurity, not event the same one as before, exaggerated. Well whatever. Had this lesson once today. Ill just laugh and go with it. Whatever. But then I stop laughing, and im thinking about finding an excuse.
Then () calls me while im messing with myself in the mirror, my hair and such.
She asks if im going I say yes if I can but... she cuts me off. She says “I am going, so I don’t see why there would be a question of you doing so” I said yea but family, time, money. She says a bit impatiently “Do you think its easy for me? I am a (), so the expense of the tickets is large. I have () and family too. Its just as hard for me to come as it would be for you to here, scrimping, asking family for help with tickets etc. But im doing it. I hardly think a few tanks of gas, and a bit of time is too much for you to handle, right sen? Well...gee. Put like that...i feel pretty silly. Unless there are other reasons, but sen, we all have those things too...” she said very softly. I said “omg I know, I just went through this earlier in dreaming...no don’t ask lol. Ill write it (). So anyway im taking the silver car, and am going to stop a night along the way, to a bit of wandering...any idea what airline you would take?” And then we talked a bit like that as I gave up on my stupid hair and laughed. Hehe. Fin. (edit: we were talking about all meeting, from (), for real, or as many as could not a dream thing)
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 08-23-2012
8/11-12/12
Leviathan
Bad Bad Company till the day I die
Until the day I die
Until the day I die
Rebel souls
Deserters we've been called
Chose a gun
And threw away the sun
Now these towns they all know our names
The death punch sound is our claim to fame
I pushed myself yesterday, past exhaustion to supra lucidity that comes past it. Thats a nice way of saying it. I just refused to shuffle off to sleep. So I ended up being absolutely blank, arms hurting, the aches and pains of exhaustion, not doing much of anything. Finally, enough was enough (I had only slept three or four hours the day before) and I let myself rest. In that exhaustion, all sorts of things, with no cap of mind or will, energy, sorta bubbled around. Old things, new things, foreign to me things. Could almost touch them somehow. I did my normal intent, but without a lot of energy. I did fixate on the steps or gates. Look at hands, find beings, etc. Just remember the hands, mumbled that few times, before I finally fell asleep.
Transition to sleep was chaotic, im sure i fell right asleep, but my awareness was unsettled by pushing myself beyond the capacity for internal generation, and being completely sensitive to outside things. Others dreams, thoughts, energy. It shard to explain. Something like a stormy sea, with no pressure (to smooth waves) neot smooth it, and no real perception beyond the sensation. Each wave was another thought energy thing. I felt pressed upon by something, below my normal notice. Like bullying, or rather unwanted attention of a creepy sort from somewhere.
Maybe related tot he Chinese figure I don’t know, is just reference. On one side of my wave, I was stable (I was like a wave liquid crystal like the larger sea. On one side i was more stable, because somebody was accessing me, or speaking to me, so that side smoothed in response. On that side, I thought i was talking to ( ), and I saw a replay in some ways of the dream with the ( ) dance, broken ( ), etc. The thing bothering her seemed similar to the waves, so it felt like I tried to bridge something. It wasn’t real specific...again, im a random fluxing sheet in this sea, in dimensions, but the spot where another sees me becomes stable from the external awareness looking in. like a photograph, or mirror. The photo becomes more fixed when it is seen by awareness. It sorta refereed back to “photo fixer dream” Power of the mind, like over subatomic particles. Accept on my particles/self. This was the state I put myself into on purpose to see something below the threshold.
After this part, I sorta turned inside out., or maybe right side in, and was “in dreaming” What I remembered, was I felt vulnerable. I found a house, a small house, looked like it was modular, or mobile, its foundation was a traveling trailer. But there was a garden and trees and concrete walkway to it. I came, and say in the yard, still reforming “self”. It was night. It reminded me of the “hunter” dream house for the quality of the feeling of the night. I thought I saw ( ) moving around inside and in the yard, and ( ). I knew ( ) because we talked, but my attention was on the ground. Gems. Cut diamonds with light, rubies, emeralds, here and there, by an anthill, in a crack of the pavement. I knew I had shed them, something had, and now I was gathering them up. People like such things, so thats what I did. Eventually I followed the trail into the house. And sat on the floor. I spent much time just looking at them in my hands. I also recalled, as a side note in the dream, my intent to look at my hands, so that was done as part of the plot I thought. And the next part of that sequence of gates im sure I thought. Such wonderful glowing gems. I think ( )? Helped me some with it, but I might have been a bit greedy, got to get them all. I thought I could make tons of neat dream jeweler from it, or ( ) could, or trade them for something. They reminded me of the stones in my dream pendant, but artfully cut. So not greedy, but I was looking for something specific in it...one of them, rest were just pretty to me.
So time goes on, I not paying attention to all the action, and there is allot, around me, like people coming and going. Finally, when ive found all the stones, a wall of rock materialized, rough stone. With streaks of minerals, gold and silver, copper maybe. Veins. And crystal. Familiar. I see little holes, veins of minerals, in the rock. Stones came from this like blood I see, or grew. I find...a crystal. Purple and silver, a regular crystal shape...but ( )? Comes to show me it hollow, crushes it, its hollow like a geode. Egg, awareness, type of being, long extinct. I run my finger son the powder, and taste it, breath it to remember, feel the being. And then...something interesting. It felt like the dream I just had, when the clock all the numerals changed to 13. So real, power, magic. A small form emerged from the stone matrix. It swam. It looked like a small larva, like a squid, but half the size of my pinky fingernail. It was small but stood out. I was hazy, out of phase. I ignored the dream reality round it, like it swam through things in a sea. So small. I moved my hand to cup it, and it swam right through my hand. The pain was indescribable. Like a shivering, burning. It never even saw my hand, it just felt “heat” and swam to it. I watched blood move from the small hole...it was like a lazor cut, small, through my hand.
I simply smoothed some skin, form over the hole and it seemed fine to me, but I shivered, almost in ecstasy it wasn’t lie pain...heat, cold, its hard to articulate, the sensation.
I knew this was a larva, stuck in the rock wall. Or maybe born from when I breathed the energetic powder, shards, of its ancient crystal shell. Egg, prison, not sure. Something shred so much information. Also, ( )? Was speaking. Was a Leviathan. Ancient, before even inorganic time, when was nothing but awareness, before, the proto sea, no land or sky. A larva. They were made extinct, destroyed, gods wrestled them in heavens and divided the land from the sea? Stuff like that. But energy, not stories. It could also be a ship. Was a ship for awareness. Leviathan. Full size, like a great whale, that ignored EVERYTHING, moved through it, dissolved it. Powerful and dangerous. He said this one is imprinted. New born. To keep it, he moved “bags of cool water” in energy around it, like a cage. And spoke to it. Like training. It would not be good for it to keep going away from dream, something would smash it when it was small. Or wouldn’t, and it would grow big. Now this was fascinating. This little inorganic being. Like a sea monkey in a tank. Dream dissolved some. Something. The veins in the rock, the vein of crystal from that being burning in my right hand. It was travel time, we traveled.
This would be too much to write. Five worlds. So ill be brief, and break it down somewhat as I did in my notes.
World 1. The ship, the baby ship. Amazing. It was a world inside of the larva. In it, travelling, linked to it, even so small, a worm/squid, burrows unhindered, through everything. So aware and alive, like a god. Much communication and understanding, knowledge shared. Understood, much, about myself even thats a good change. When it phased through my hand it left much, linked, imprinted. Merge. Like a ship of mind, connected. Amazing. Cant really describe being In it, or it being in me/us.
World 2. I called this one “tight borders world” Everything looked understandable, the forms called themselves human even, although they were not. Like the dream I had I called iron-man, of the creation of such a world. This one was cut off. Nothing come sin and out. A woman, a authority, was grilling me on where i came from, no identification. I watched flying cars, ships in the sky. Somewhat warlike place. I said I was from outside. She was, thought my God. There is an outside, we are “stuck” at the “bottom” loop. Another being didn’t care, he was going to “probe” and flay my mind regardless, to see where on THIS world I came from. I saw another being that was done too. If we are popcorn seeds, this man had been popped, inside out, soft, decaying. No good. We/I get away. To a “spaceport” Many wonderful people, ( ) people here, I see ( ) and even ( ) and ( ) in a throng of warriors. Sent to stop us? Ahh maneuvered to cross paths. The female authority was not as hostile. There is a fight, but of course our friends are our friends, a few come with us to the next part. the hard part is not hurting anyone heh. People had living energy clothes here, like kung foo monks. Very nice to see. Some stayed in the “sealed borders world” Some I didnt recognize had to be fought. Didn’t want to burrow out hard, or leave friends.
World 3. Mystery world. Film noir quality. Police investigating murder. Ask me for help. I try to explain investigative process. The lead detective gets excited. He shows me a boardgames called a word I just used. On it, is a picture of me in a old detective outfit, like film noir. They only know of investigating what I demonstrated...i had been here before. Spend time training the officers. We find the killer. It is a long sequence, reminded me of the movie “the Maltese falcon”. But was eagle not falcon. And his that Ishtar crown/star...the stolen object murders were around. “Heres looking at you kid” and “we will always have Paris” The hard boiled investigators, who didn’t really know how to investigate, love those touches, write them into the playbook. Ice whistles. We sit in a circle, in a sepia room, and I make whistles from ice by my heart, and play music. Magic music. Show them how to to. This is the best part before we leave. ( ) and ( ) are playing really well, make their own whistles I don’t have to like for the investigators.
World 4. World 4 was like a version of this world, but with no war, no nations. A big neighborhood, village. I saw the dream university, I talk about so much, is in this world, where there is no DISTANCE like between people, houses, places...ie, no borders. I name it ( )'s world, ( ), world, because it reminds me of the state ( ) intends her awareness. Maybe because the college is there i don’t know, but its more then that. There is less difference between spiritual dimension and physical dimension of things here, but its still like earth, this world, familiar. We play whistles/flutes again, music, walk in woods, in a group. ( ) stays here. We find a large poster board, that has tasks on it. Like a list. Glue covered with glitter. Light pink? Heh its for ( ). Its like steps for an entire life, a life plan, that she worked on with friends, spirits ( ). He needs to stay in this world to do it. Also I see some of ( ) stuff on it. So they both stay for now in that world. I think she will come when finishes study list. Or we can come back have to finish this (traveling).
World 5. I seem to be alone. People are sitting, quiet, and there aren’t many of them. My cat I healed, shes here. People cough, animals, and then...they split, their flesh melts like it putrid rotten fruit, and the insides come out like blood a sloshing out and dead. No warning. Plaque, death, moment of death world. I steady myself. I prepare to leave, but not like them, spilling blood and disease. I pack deliberately from this world, and go farther. But this was the last world, moment of death, dying, aging and splitting in seconds, that I can recall as such. Packing involved drawing energy on flat clear sheets and stacking them overlapping building a1d, 2,d 3,d then 4,d in time map like over everything did it in moments. In those moments, I thought about stuff, saw. My hand was full of crystals that shine with light of awareness, thought frequencies, where the larval Leviathan being burrowed. Like illuminating eye that it depended what I shine though self it matches. The cat I healed. I felt her last breath, her ribs were sticking out, but she refused to die. Then I did warmth, healing, then she breathed again, and made it to vet. It was this event that reminded me in a way who i was, i had decided that such memories from childhood were imagination in retrospect up until then. And survived a week before she dared operate for infection, and she lived from that, impossible, well the vet pushed procedure. Shes since lost her license for doing such hings. Bu that was the tonal link. Was energy. Im in the cat, I know, her thoughts, what she sees sometimes. When she dies, it will be a stroke soon, shes 20 years old now, will I be pulled with her? Will I fold into her dying? Or will she fold into me? Or will it be an open link, like Atlantis night dream, me there and here, like shes there and here now? Didn’t matter. I packed and chose to move on from that moment of death place.
I woke, wrote so many notes, barely had been asleep an hour and a half. Was like 5:45 am. Went right back to sleep. Beyond recall. Accept the end. I had come back, like picking it up. To World 4. I found the people that stayed, they were OLD...so old ( ), ( ), others. This part of the dreaming was even longer then the part I just wrote. But thankfully, it was in sensations and images,understanding, raw, not a story. Many sections. People collaboratively building, testing, crafting. I think to avoid world 5 and that gate. It ended up, when it became images with some narrative to them, the construction of a great rocket. It referenced the dream I had with the engine testing last month, etc. Putting it all together, orderly and logically. Finally it was time. It was time to launch, we were in the things we built of course, and the lady from world 2, the non hostile controller, from the “sealed in world” was announcing. Made scenes, in a way, we are sealed din here, locked into the worlds default AP too. She came with us when we left I remembered. Countdown. 10, 9....1! Nothing. Fizzle. I was watching this part with ( ). It was half memory too, because i remember when they launched the cots 2 spacex mission that went to the station earlier this summer, she noticed me logged in at an odd hour asked why I was poking around, so I explained a bit, an watched....and that first attempt was aborted...big flash of dumped fuel and nothing. Lol.
So I “took” the whole rocket down and yea, it was a timing issue. Another rocket team would launch in meantime, but rather then set up that one, we started building an improved version. This part of dreaming FELT exactly like it did when I first went to sleep...its hard to explain, how odd that was for me. Like litteraly coming back to an early state exactly. We didn’t try to launch into the beyond this way again in my dream. It was more happy to do it this way, skip world five, not have to be “bad company
until the day I die” Better to launch from world 4. Everyone was there, all the individual tasks in awareness done. Was no hurry, and it was fun to build and dream of the stars beyond the sky. Fin.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 09-27-2012
9/21-22/12
Way Down South
I picked the first dream I experienced I thought I would want to remember. Even asleep I thought I only have time for one. I had many, at least 4, complete narratives after this one, all interesting and good in their own ways, and I recalled them enough to compare them against the one I had tagged earlier. I never woke myself to write the other ones, just the one I had selected, but weather I wake or not, I come to the pause points where i can either wake of at least move my body to record them. I chose not too, and even before and after I woke I recapped all of my dreaming, but by the time I woke, they were all gone except the one I had earlier decided on. That in and of itself was an interesting exercise in both self control, and states of awareness I thought. I am paying more attention the places between dreams, where I exist ins elf reflection, and can see my body etc. Pivot points or gates that seem to come naturally every few hours, or more if I force them.
I am with my mother and my sister. We are driving along an interstate highway, I see a road sign its interstate ten. It seems several days into a long road trip. Its in the new vehicle so its quite spacious My sister is listening to satellite radio..one of the 80's new wave stations. I am enjoying tears for fears “everybody wants to rule the world”. I am reading on my ipad, and glancing up looking at cypress with hanging moss. I can see the ocean, I think we are in Louisiana
We stop in a motel in a small town. Its set a bit back into some pine woods. I have a room and my sister and mom share one. I go in my room as the sun is setting, there are lots of buzzing insects and maybe cicades making that creepy clicking sound. Something happened that night. I was laying on the hard motel bed, looking at some water stain in the corner of the ceiling. A big buzz and then a ball of light enters the door like its not there. Flashes of the swamp etc. The next morning, im on the bed, and there is dried mud on the bottom of my shoes. I remember flashes like a dream. I seem to be alright, other then confused.
We leave the main highway, and are curving around the coast on another road. The landscape doesn’t look correct to me...lots of sand bu the vegetation is sparse. This area had been devastated by Katrina it seems. We pass a closed bar, a building that was never rebuilt in a small town. It has my last name. I know this was a place, because I found it after Katrina, owned by a distant relative. So again, I know the general area we are in now. I am using the cars connection to look things up on the internet via the ipad. The scenes from outside the window, and from the device, and my own perception, which has started becoming defuse, sorta form a cloud. Im no longer in the dream in the same way. I see a story, that stretches in time. Its not exactly the same place, but its similar environment. A group of people settled on one end of a bay. In time their city grew, from steam trains to modern era. I watched it like a slow time lapse, populated by ghosts. There was an island, first connected by a ferry boat, and in later times a two lane bridge. An old plantation on a low island at the edge of the sea. In time, the island got longer, and shorter, as storms and time ate at it. But it was a power spot, and somehow the manor house, even when abandoned, continued to stand. It is near modern times. A small group of people transfer to the outer barrier island, and live in the manor, and start growing some sort of plant. The island is full of ghosts. Only special people can live on the island...it is strange. I return to my focus in the car, and I see, as we pass, the bridge tot hat island...just another quiet abandoned road in this outer blasted area.
Latter in the day, we find a highly recommended restaurant to eat dinner at. The parking lot is under more pine trees, and the soil is sandy like a drained swamp or silty soil. Blacktop as pored around trees, so its an interesting place to park. We go into a fine dining establishment. We order, but nothing on the menu is exactly what I want to eat. The food seems more french then southern. As we eat, the chef comes to speak to us. He is a strange creole man with a heavy french creole Arcadian accent. His food, although it has local flavors, is more old heavy french cuisine, lots of cream sauces. He ask me if I enjoyed my meal. I say yes...but answer honestly this is not the type of food I wanted. He says “What dat for you wanted made he-ear” I say I don’t know. Opossum. Squirrel, crayfish, Gator, stuff like that. He says “mon ami, you want etuffee (something like this) of the bay-oo”. Gots to go on dat swamps for what you want. He finds this funny for some reason. Latter, my mom and sister are talking to this head chef, in the kitchen. There is a strange man like a little goblin or gnome. Singing in french. Has an interesting energy. He is cooking in a big pot, throwing handfuls of things in. there are 12 small bowls like Tibetan singing bowls. Each has a bit of flavor food to add tot he main dish (bacon, olives, chicken livers etc) One of the bowels...smells so good. Before i know it, if put my finger sin it and eaten the contents. It looked like clams, in a mellow buttery sauce...tangy. Then I freeze, my gosh, I just ate out of the prep bowl, in the kitchen, stole essentially. He stops singing and reaches for the bowl. Look confused seeing its tasty contents were gone (was like the canned fish but much better) he says...to fe? Something like this. I have to squelch my reaction. But once i do I see the bowl refilled, and him haply humming again. As we leave the restaurant, i ask my mom and sister if we can find a swamp place for the food I want. They say “no” not going of the {established} roads. My sister says Louisianian is like a Haiti with more money. Not a place for outsiders to go wandering under the full moon in the bayou.
We stop at another Hotel. This time I sleep without being disturbed, but my dreams are strange. I have this weird dream of me writing my life like it was a dream, and getting certain parts right, and some wrong in a comical way. And then posting them on the internet like it was interesting. What a silly dream! Then I realized...ohhh...yea. I laughed. D'oh.
We have left Louisiana, and are going to upstate Alabama. But its still close to a river. That evening, we stop in a strange town. There is a river valley, a very deep one. Before the road goes down the valley, we turn off on a scenic overlook and I stare. Its a picturesque town, stately, a university, a Georgian revival government or county hall building. Columned manors, old houses, large stately trees. Also compact? Like its separate from the next dream valley over, its own world somehow. There is a stranger thing. It is a deep valley, a a road continues on the ridge...soaring over one end of the town, is a bridge...but it only goes half way. An ancient bridge...the end is wood planks...that drops off...eagles soar around it. It is magical seeming.
We go into town, and find a hotel...a fancy one this time no cheap places here. I want to go onto the half sky bridge. No one will take me, the city people will not allow it. Its reserved for them. The town has a strange energy. The university is elite...all the students are divided into cliques like fraternities and sororities. Its...clannish place. Aristocratic in a old mid size town way. It snot “open” beyond a point. In the parkinglott, I find shifty looking man, who says he can take tourists up there. He has a old green van...windows are shuttered. For 40$. I don’t agree, but I go to over watch to see. He takes them like a human smuggler, to the end of the stone part of the bridge. I see unsure people walk to the end of the wood plank part. Some don’t come back, some do but seem strange. Some fall...my eyes see bones in an overgrown field of those that fell. But the man doesn’t kill them...a leap of faith? Indianan Jones and the last crusade scene comes to mind. I come back to myself and decline the clandestine tour as I am missing something key.
It is another? Full moon. We were out late. We are in the parkinglott of the nice hotel, an old pre civil war converted manor. Everything is so real...moonlight, shadows, fireflys. And silent. I am helping my mom out of the vehicle, have my hand out for her. A lone figure comes out of the woods...moves strange...we freeze, thinking to jump back in the car. It circles the car and us not quite correct movements. Then it leaps for us. My mom in particular. Its like a starving, or very slender, werewolf. With a small jaw...female. It bites a chunk out of my moms ear, like it is going to eat her head. I instantly jump on its back...and knock it to the ground. Its stronger then it looks, but I have more weight to pin her down...i hold the head in my arm like choke hold, but im not applying preassure to harm it. Im putting it all into keeping it still. My sister frantically calls 911 on her cellphone. It seems to take forever, it takes allot to hold the thing still...gradually, it shifts to a human. A think women of 50, with hair that is white, then black, then white like it was treated like that. The ends of the hair are braded, with a few beads, and feathers. Smells like the damp forest. She says something I say im just holding you for the sheriff, ain’t going to be no fighting, which makes her calm down and not speak anymore.
In time the sheriff, in a decrepit old sheriffs car...like one from the mid 1980's, pulls up. Wearing his sunglasses at night, chew-en on tobacco, his gut is pretty big. He walks up to me, and looks at my mom, who is holding her ear...looks like a bit of her earlobe skin got nicked off is all. His deputy gets out of the other side of the patrol car. They are...odd. “now, what sort of commotion made you folks caaaall? He asks in drawl, looking at the scene. I say “Ahh this one attacked as a wolf..bit my mother a bit more yonder on the ear, was insane acting” I wondered why I was matching the speech pattern. I think to communicate better? “well hell, martin, get old Abigail into the car.” He gives my mom a bandage from his pocket, gauze, to stop the bleeding. Says “m'am” and turns to the figure i had let get up. “now Abigail, you know you cant go a-biten and a-claw'n folks going about supporting the local e-conomy” “come on old girl, back to the home with ya...” He then turns to us and says...I hope you folks don’t let this un-fortunate occurrence sour your impression of these parts...Why don’t y’all stop by the reception desk and tell em I said to treat you folks right” My sister says “thats it? She attacked, my mom is bit...and shes a werewolf!” He turns to her and says “Well now mam, no use making a big scuffle over a bit of noth'n.” You folks have a nice evening.
We passed the reception desk, dd not stop. My sister was a bit upset. My mom seemed dazed. We put her on the bed and I cleaned the ear, and held her hand talking to her a bit and my sister and I put her to bed, and then went to my own room. We were on the third floor, and I had a verenda door onto the balcony that ran at the top of the columned porch. I had the windows pen, and the old muslin curtains reminded me strongly of the hanging tree moss blowing in the wind. The moon came in the open window, and fell right across me, a big beam of moonlight was the only illumination.
I went into over watch, and (flew) out the window like a bird...i was...something with wings. I hung in the sky too see, in the moonlight. Everyone here, none of them were people. Werewolf, sprites, hags and goblins, good and bad mythological beings. In the town under the half bridge, in this odd valley. I dispersed again, and then reformed on a residential street. I did not know...cold we even leave? My momma is bit. Ive always been weird like these folks but I can keep it on the down low. Can my mom? Can we safely return, or will it be pitchfork and burning torch time back in Cali? So I decide to scout for real estate. Can I just buy a home here and stay? We may have too. No empty homes for sale here. I walk to an intersection, 4 way, and turn up another street, a street I like the feel of. Its a bit after midnight. There is an empty field...maybe we can camp and squat here i think, so I walk into it, the moon illuminates a center circle. I walk into the center circle and it gets weird I kinda loose focus
the sheriffs voice brings me out. : “...son, now what what can be so in-tresting to make ya walk around a city street scaring the good folks of burglary?” The light of the moon is almost blinding, its light and dark at the same time. I am surrounded by a ring of people...but they aren’t people, each one looks like some creature, inversely luminous to the moonlight, I see eyes and claws, teeth and manes.
The sheriff says “Now we are a hospitable bunch of honest, small town folk. Ho-spitable. We welcome folk passing through, staying to the SAFE ROADS as they go from there to yonder, cross are fine municipality. Son, why you off the highway? I think you better tell me, right quick. I don’t respond, I curl a bit, and then I burst like they are. I see myself reflected. Im...like a satyr. I have a flute or lute, something on my back. Deer legs not goat, some gnarly curved horns. Im a satyr? I think cant be a roman one with wine and debauchery, that snot my nature. Must be something deeper. But then, the lady wasn’t really a werewolf. In my dispersed human sheath, the creatures see everything. Why i was out here, because i was afraid my mom wouldn’t fit in back home now, looking for a house, etc. A cloud covers the moon, and all the other creatures are gone. Its just me and the sheriff. “Well, hell boy, why didn’t you say so from the beginning. I would be proud, as the leader of this here mu-nicipality, to put on my real estate agent hat. Come Ooon! Lets walk.”
And we do. So many fine houses. He doesn’t know about prices and money as im asking. He just says “ahh hell” and “mightsbe” allot. And “that ain’t no good” Somewhat frustrating actually. As we walk, I see a house I REALLY like. Kinda brown stone, made of masonry, not brick or concrete. Old. Nice columned porch. And unlike the others, this one has a sign 200$. Wow, I can afford that...whats the catch. I stop and walk up, and the sheriff puts his hands in his belt and sucks in air with a whistle sound. “old man wallapes place”. “Now, he was a right bastard”. I ask about the price... he says “well, let me show you something” He points to a pamphlet sitting on a porch swing. I sit and open it. It folds out and floats in the air in energy. I move my gaze from left to right, and the images and energy in it are alive like a holographic TV. Its...an infomercial. And a scroll. My eyes see the pitch, and all the bits that come if you act now. Two books, a spirit (thing) access to the exclusive community. IF you call in the next 30 minutes, its all yours for 200$. I see what is being sold...its not half bad, just 40% bad. The sheriffs voice brings me back to focus. “Old man wallape, he was a right bastard. A great sorcerer, he made this **** to sell to folks on late night TV, trying to be im-mortal. He weren’t no spirit, he was a man.
Onrey old cus....afraid to take the bridge.” The longer i wait, the lower the price goes on the sigh...soon its offering me 200$ to by it. weird.
All that aside i liked the building. “you want to go in? You’ll see. Old cuss ain’t never left. That house is not empty, its occ-upied. Ghosts. Old man and the spirits he kept. I said id take a look. The sheriff said “well, if yall want. Keys under the doormat. I ain’t going in there, Im the auth-ority I ain’t the adventuring type” So I stepped in. Just three steps. Its was gloomy, but surprisingly dust free. I loved it! It felt like...when I used to sit as a child, with a single burning log, and read books by the light by the fireplace. It just felt like that, kinda like moonlight. I saw...a stuffed raven on a pedestal. A old globe. Crystals glowing in a brazier. All sorts of neat sorcerer brick-a-brac. Nice furniture. And i was surrounded by a swarm of hungry ghosts, like swarm of bees. I listened to them, they couldn’t hide their thoughts. Friend...Food...Flesh to walk the bridge. Sad...laughter. Warmth. Cold. And then the old bastard himself. He saw my mom and sister in me somehow. So his reaction: “**** get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich” that kind of old bastard. I loved the house...id need to ditch the lingering spirits. Turned around and walked out.
Sheriff said “there ya are, ya came out” Wasn’t a sure thing. I asked him what he meant. “friend, there ain’t been nobody that ever stepped foot into that place...i wasn’t quite sure you would step back out...i warned ya”. I said well it don’t matter. This wont work for my mom. I could take it, not become insane, more insane. I think I could wrestle them out and away. The place feels right, without the swarm. Sheriff said “ I don’t know about no swarm, but I can guess...infomercials...lords sake!” Well lets keep looking, you mamma is bit, one will turn up. I don think this is no place for folks that have been in a family-way...mothers or children. Not now.” “Well, lets go on with walking” With that I started waking, even as I continued walking. The last thing from the dream was the sheriffs voice, and only his voice. It said “well, lets get on!” This is the one dream I decided to recall and go over in more detail, not a few paragraphs for each one. Fin.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 09-27-2012
9/20-21/12
Tabula Rasa
I began dreaming in a sunlight glade, at the base of some mountains. A glacier was high above, and clouds formed wall across the top of the mountains angular peak. The sun filled the sky, late afternoon, bathing all in a warm, golden light. It was fall, but in this glade, at the foot of this great mountain, it was spring. There was a camp, around the mountain, where great men like titans, but I thought perhaps gods, (The quality of the image reminded me artistically of the picture ( ) posted earlier in my thread) were hunting stags and boars. There is was fall. But this glade, was eternal spring, because it is always spring, around the one who made her solitary camp, for her own reasons, temporarily here. She was close. I traveled to the edge of the glade, and through a rock gate, a wall of cold snow, a blizzard. Through that, I was not appropriately dressed. To a land like Iceland in winter. There were paw prints in the snow. Cats. Large Cats. And chariot wheels it looked like. I was looking for my black cat baba, but I couldn’t remember if it was baba or ( ), but it didn’t matter. She had him, pulling the chariot.
And then I am pulled, I am looking at the dream internet and these forums, but without a screen. I had posted several questions to someone, three I labeled 1, 2 and three. The person I addressed was responding, ( ), bu not in the tonal. My questions had more around them on this side. I never saw him, he was communicating through the forums representation. Like a layer between. But he said of course he would always answer good questions. He had written some and I read it. He asked me to explain something. I looked to type, but no, I saw carbon paper. The white with the yellow one underneath that gets imprinted on. I only had several pencils missing the lead, which would write on the carbon, but not the white copy for me. This made knowing what I wrote if it the words formed write difficult. It is difficult to write, especially without a keyboard, and read in dreams. So id write a few letters, lift the carbon paper to see if the letters were formed correctly, write a few more. It took allot of focus, and I was pulled back to the other place. It went on like this for some time, completely pulled back tot he writing, or the magic place.
I am back in the magic place. Freyja...i missed her again trying to write. The cat prints were old, and I was turning as blue as the jotin she was hunting. I returned to her spring camp. And warmed myself next to a ball of living flame, that was the sun. As I thawed, I thought bout what i was looking for. Just to see my cats who had passed, lots of them. And to hunt...i had a sword and a spear, I wished to hunt...what she was hunting. I was full of purpose. But mostly to see the cats. Time did not really move. I knew when she had killed some ice giants, because the cold wall would retreat more from the magic glade, and it would get just a bit nicer. She was securing her campground. In time I grew restless, so I found a lute? It was on my back. I began to strum. I was inspired to play a song, and sing to the spring. It was, funny enough, Stairway to heaven by led zeppelin. I would pause when I got to lyrics that had more meaning for me recently. (Insert feeling of leaving part)
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
then im pulled back to the other place, because ( ) is communicating again. What I managed to write was “About the first rule, what is” And to this, he wrote in energy in response “there is only the one rule, and what it is is what it is”. I pondered that for a bit, and began formulating response. It wasn’t exactly what i was going to ask, but id work with it, this type of writing, like etching was hard. I got smart, and got a secondary notebook I could write one easily, and filled margins with responses, and tried to boil it down to one easy to write. Short. Before I could, im pulled back to the glade again.
My hand had stopped mid strum. Now I was hungry. I was sitting in a stool chair, brightly colored...folding cloth center thing. Somebody had set out a platter for me. Figs, nuts, a bit of honey cake. A pitcher with some frothy mead. Beyond that, there was a boar, and a stag roasting, and a plate and eating dagger left for me. I knew it was fine if I ate of them, so I ate a small bit from each food, and drank, and felt refreshed. I saw a small sword, and a hunting bow laid against a larger throne like chair, so I knew the hunter had returned, and u felt cats around. But I wanted to finish singing. I suppose that’s why I was there, other then to hunt. So I continued with stairway to heaven. (insert bustle in your hedgerow part) The warmth, and the food, a sound like humming bees, faint, or a hummingbirds wings.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
Im pulled back tot he dream forum. I see ( ) had left. He told me something about he was also looking at DNA mutations? A documentary, and was now awake. He seemed annoyed perhaps all the time this took, but my attention was literally split between tasks, so I didn’t do either one very well I suppose. He asked me about the “old mother”. I said something she said about him, the hunter lady, I had seen her face at some point and forgotten then. Perhaps it was from another time. Old did not mean age. Also, as I have it in my notes, I said that she was preparing me, out of proper space. Im not sure now what that means. I think perhaps where i kept going back and forth too. After I managed to communicate this, a wonderful magic thing happened. The energy that would be like forums posts, and the paper, it turned to stone. Like a large stone tablet at an angle. Instead of words, their were pictogram s, runes at the top. I could read. Them. Sun, moon, an arrow. It was everything caught and put to stone. I saw in the dream somebody else had responded to what I asked, but indirectly, in another “thread” This was the case, when I woke and checked, as I saw it. In tonal. But the one I asked only responded in dreams. Once it was set in stone, (it was like block used to print pamphlets) it grew small and vanished, the whole setting vanished, and I was again in the springtime glade.
I finished the song. The part (insert wind on down the road) I paused, on, because it had some meaning in regards to my shadow gazing of the past few nights...12 am, 1am, standing in the light of an open door, seeing myself through the long shadow it casts. Seeing what casts it. I was done. I put away my lute. When I looked in front of me, there was a new spear and sword. Not the ones i manifest with myself. Both very wonderful, covered in living runes of fire that moved. Just the things for slaying icy foes. I took this to mean it was time for me to hunt with the hostess. So the one s manifest dissolved back into me, and I took the new weapons, with a joyful heart. I stepped through a pavilion door (a pavilion had been erected around me when the food was left, and the last thing I recall from this part was a joyous sound like laughter, or music. During this whole back and forth, I had woken partially at least three times to take notes. One thing I noted. My sense of smell was off the charts. I could smell the cold from the air conditioner. The smell of my body. Smell of first the moon, and then the sun, on the roof over my head. Almost cant explain. After i left the pavilion, more time passed, and a I woke again, but my recall dissolved into magic when I left the tent. But I had..smells and tastes and feelings. Cant write them. I smelled the paper I wrote on, along with feeling it. Im not sure i ever opened my eyes to see the page, I just saw it.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all is one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
After some time, I was with my father, and his brother who had died two years before him. Unlike in life, they were comfortable together, at peace. Their mother, my grandmother, who died a few years before either of them was there, and their sister who died when I was five. We were all in a car. My dad was excited about something artistic, his bother about carpentry, and their sister about dancing.
There mother, my grandmother, who was a stern old one room schoolhouse teacher in her past, was talking about all the children, to teach, some who never learned anything in life. Never had the chance, so they were held in between, with those that serve and also had more to learn. This was a specific layer of energy i was in as I saw it. I had much of the feast, from the springtime pavilion, to share, we sat out on a blanket, under an oak tree, and I played a song again, but something new and original, for them. My father had much wonderful, artistic insight about my tonal existence, and existence in general, so I was appreciative for that perspective. Then, that second meal was done, and I needed to leave them again and return to other places.
I am in the familiar dream “hospital” Its not always what it seems, some rooms open to vast auditoriums for performances, etc. To me it is a place of rest, not confinement. This time, I saw it as a “mental hospital”. I had a private room, although not specifically as a patient. There are other wings, like hotels. Or so I told myself. I walked the rounds, it was closing, I saw no staff, so I took it on myself to check medication levels, make sure nurses were at their posts. To shoo patients to bed and say goodnight, I even tucked one elderly man in and gave his forehead a kiss goodnight. Had a clipboard.
But then, a man and a women came and did everything I had done. And there was a guard walking with them. I stopped them, and told them I already had done everything, it seemed empty. They smiled and thanked me politely, but suggested it wasn’t my job. I said yes, but it can be, I am as highly educated as you are, and capable...well...i haven’t finished my last degree yet but im taking the classes again...so that’s almost the same. In a laughing manner. They were very open, no reaction bad energy, but they were firm on it. I didn’t work there, in that role, all of that, as eloquently as I stated it aside, with a smile. The guard tapped me on the shoulder, said I had someplace else to be, yes? I know him, a big guy but hes nice. So I laughed said ohh...yea...i was avoiding it. But i actually was confused a bit about what things were, but in a relaxed sort of way.
Im sitting like at a meeting table, in a break room. Theres even a water cooler. White linoleum floors, particle board ceiling. Fits the setting. I see everyboody From ( ) here. Or lots of us anyway. ( ) is speaking, hes quite animated. Hes standing, using his hands. Hes saying something like “the inexplicable waves of effervescent bubbles of awareness spiral out of the alabaster and ivory walls of creation” Been speaking awhile. Sounds good to me. But im looking around and peoples expressions vary from “I dig it” to “WTF”. I see ( ) with a pinched look on her face, shes taking notes trying to chart the meaning. She asks a question and the answer is like that and shes writing.
Then like before, im pulled like in the spring glade. Its not the guard, its like a nurse? He seems quite agitated with me. He has a long speech about my fundamental shortcomings, or my way of being, and is diagnosing? An dim just listening, nodding my head. Saying “good point!” etc. This actually makes him annoyed, more and more, my head nodding and laughing. No! No! Im saying its not good! I say sadly, yea, I suck! And am genuinely amused. Then he kinda loses it with me, pulls his hair out. “Look at you! Look at you! Your not bothered by anything I say, you went and closed the shift for the night...and you are a patient! Or should be! MY GOD MAN, YOUR NOT EVEN WEARING ANY PANTS! I laughed said yea, well, its casual Friday, and I didn’t know how to dress half as formal, so I figured A double breasted jacket and tie, and no pants just boxers, was half as formal, so it works...is it not so? And I winked and laughed. “No it doesn’t work!!!” First off, your wearing the jacket...a coat that is ( ) in it.….you have it buttoned around your neck inside out, like a poncho, and you don’t even have a shirt on underneath! The tie, is wrapped around your head and you wrote “Tastes like chicken” On it with lipstick. He said that i simply assume my insanity is OK?Km that im equivalent, but im not, hes CORRECT and I am WRONG, and ive not faced my issues if i cant see it!!! So I responded with a long story. I said “Do you want my coat? You can have it I have a closet full of them...get them custom made by a guy in Venice. Here, ill put it on you, inside out, shiny silk showing! I wasn’t even being sarcastic. I didn’t understand what he was mad about. Bu the had turned white, and was quivering with rage, like he was about to explode.
I got pulled back to the meeting, and now ( ) is speaking. And ( ) is taking notes, but not really, hes drawing army guys shooting at each other and wrote “omg PWNED” and making X’s for eyes. Damn it looks like fun I want to play too. But hes also listening.
Im pulled back to the doctors office room. Its another “helper” ive seen before Less high strung then that last guy. He had the coat I put on the guy, and he puts it back on me as I had it. I said “wheres the new guy, I liked him, he brought up some good points”. The replacement looks in my eyes and laughs, but is very neutral. He tells me he did not pass the real employment interview (seeing if he could handle me? Lol) Then he says “on an entirely related note, when next you decide to stay here, you will have a new roommate. Please don’t give him the keys to the building, he wont be going anywhere for along time. I responded in a Tweety voice. “I go through more puddy cats that way” and held my pinky to my mouth like Dr evil (Austin powers), and laughed.
And im back at the meeting. Hours have passed, this conversation had been going back and forth it seems for quite awhile. ( ) is talking, and I see the energy from it, ( ) is explaining exactly. I listen closely to this part. She says “You think im being creative, but im NOT creative, not with this, not in this. Its not creativity, its principals, like how things are structured. (words). Creativity is a good thing, but if every person creatively made their own language, no one could speak share at all. Thats why I try to find common principals, then build from those, not because i love plodding along". People are equally getting, or not getting, what shes saying as much as they were or were not with ( ). ( ) seems frustrated, and worn low in energy. ( ) seems tired, he gets up and walks to a pitcher of water and pours it, and wipes his forehead. I’m thinking I had the fun thing getting pulled out so many times. I was doodling too, but I drew what the words said. Those were my notes, a pictogram. I was looking at ( )'s mouth as she talked, time seemed to slow, or something. It looked like a lopsided O at one point, and she had a look on her face. Like oh no. Sens about to be “interesting”. I said, that was very well said, because of and is tarted rattling things off fast. I started using my hands to talk, then stopped talking, because i was catching all the energy, from everybody talking, and saying see! See! Look how it all fits together, its inspiration, and contemplation, words and vision. And I got quite animated. I took a second to appreciate, that the second doctor guy, was kind enough to dress me properly before I jumped up and started walking around. For my turn to speak, I don’t want to speak I said. I want to go...to the river! We can see it better a the river. And we all kinda flew in a rush, to a familiar river. A city with a new bridge across to an old town. I went farther. A large river. But then we grew and grew, so walking to the middle was only waste deep...it was like a small creek or stream. The sun! A beautiful music, a deeply spiritual moment. I was putting together all the talking in dream energy. I can really explain this part. A video will.
Latter, it is as a game. I am a city watchman, or a watcher over a city. A city on an island, Venice like I mentioned i laughed. But its sinking. The royal lines are tangled. Conflict. So I pull my own. I mean I pull my own people energy, and build another city, a islands in a lake, a lake on a large island. Rings, like Atlantis in pictures sorta. I build, someone helps me build, I grows, in time. But again, like a game. Gold is the color, like the light in the springtime glade. I pull people. A king,a queen, governors, ministers. Its chart like a chain of governance. thAts the 2 dimensional chart. There are chart sin time...to the next ruler, and next, I am selecting human energy for each, until the time the city needs to die. Gold...i see their portraits in gold, and connectors. For one son, three generations down, no wife. Auditions, in a temple. Spirits come and dance, different colors, purple and blue, orange and green, their skin is their color, so we can select one to be incarnated, to fill that wife role. That son, son of kinks, three generations in, has a very rarefied energy only a spirit can en kindle a baby from it. But its important. For continuity of the game city.
Latter im in the city, at some point in its existence, not the very start, maybe halfway in its life. My “mother” of gold light, is the boss. But I don’t always listen, I change my perspective to fit the times. Roll with the changes. There is, in this point, a murder in the city. Of an important person. I become a watchman, or an investigator, captain of the guard. I investigate the murder. I solve the murder. Lightning. Lightning from the horizon. The people, they tell me, hide, it will kill you. I say “it will just mostly kill me” It strikes me on my shoe, and arcs through my body, which changes into three balls hanging in the sky massive. Then they merge, and turn into a glitter like fireworks, that bathes the city in light. Im fine, I just wanted to leave, and thats how it could be done. The city had become too real, in space and time, a world. Its harder to leave worlds then dreams of worlds.
I am at home, my siblings are with me. My father is coming to visit, from the dead, or maybe we came to visit him. We are cleaning, vacuuming, getting ready. We had been eating take out. I want to cook meals he liked. I need many Mexican things I don’t have. Everyday, I saw two buses. One came from Mexico, with guest workers, to pick fruit and vegetables. One went somewhere else, and some of the people transferred. I was afraid to approach one to ask. But this day, I did. A man who looked like the guy in the “born in east la” video, who thinks the phone is Jesus talking, got off the bus. I said I needed help to make my father, gave his name, a special meal. He volunteered, as a helper, not a day laborer. He came to the home, and picked fruit and vegetables that had grown from seed. I needed nopales, to make the soup stock. For posole (a type of pork stew with homeny corn and cactus pad) He knew how to prepare the cactus pads, so he did that. He said it was an honor to help prepare my father a meal that brings him comfort. And he showed me how to cook it. I said thank you in Spanish. He said, oh, we have not been speaking Spanish, don’t you know? He said something I cant remember, something about the ( ) tribe, but not directly. Then, he turned to a great wolf, greater then one would think in stature from his human form, and smiled, and ran off, into the trees, and south, to the mountains of central Mexico. I could see him leave, all the way, because i could see from high. Fin.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-17-2012
10/10-11/12
Construction
Id like to take an intermediate, and not overly long time writing of this dream, despite the fact, that to my surprise, I found 2 pages of handwritten notes when I woke this morning (afternoon). But before I say anything about the dreaming, I feel I need to give it some tonal context. A question had been bothering me. Perhaps I is not correct, to put so much energy into this place, I mean people. It could be seen, if one chooses to see it a certain way, almost like what some people on the ( ) try to do, sieze some space in someone else home so to speak. Crowd out the ones who make it, or be seen as attempting too. That is very rude, and a bad thing to do in general. So is this, perhaps, the case, and if so, id hardly feel comfortable with myself or the situation, and the long ingrained instinct to pack my bags and keep on wandering, comes into play. There was a secondary aspect: Awareness. It used to be, id dream in long narrative form once a month or so, now It has become my default. I think in order to bring something back of others, or with them. Its easier for that, then energy and obe lucidity.
Is this best, however? There was a time, where i negotiated boundaries tot he amount of stories and game playing I would allow, because by the nature of such dreaming, there is a limit on lucidity to the context of the narrative I used to go back and forth to even allow partial or periodic immersion My focus has been more and more in such shared settings. Which is good but. As the obe/windshield dreaming awake reminded me, I used to do that sort of thing much more, and it had almost become forgotten. Rather then manifesting energy from dreams into solid physical objects, for example, as my next step, I am paying more attention to maximizing the narrative potential to facilitate connection and sharing awareness. I wouldn’t want to stop doing that, but this may go hand in hand with the first concern I had.
So I had allot on my “plate O nonspecific rumination” when I finally sloughed off to sleep at four am. So, that said.
The dreaming started at, and mostly stayed in, a partially constructed house, from the time I closed my eyes, to the last bit before I opened them, around 3pm. This in and of itself was unusual, such a long duration of continuity, and interesting. I had been looking at a prominent house, that always intrigued me, in the general area of where i took those photos, one that could be seen from all over in my childhood home. In some ways, some of the “set pieces” of the dream reminded me of that house. But it was much larger, stretching from near dream lands to far astral, where my father lived in a corner. But there was that tonal reminder, in addition to ( ) versions, etc.
In the dream, I woke in a bed. I got up and walked around. The questions I was asking were manifest around me, I knew this, but it was also a look at things from another perspective. The house I was in was modern, and built to a large quality. I dressed myself before I went to the bathroom. I would have liked to not take the time, just walk as I was. But I of course can not do that, I have other people that live with me. To my surprise, I heard or saw no one. Lights i had left on in the hall were still on, etc. So after i used the bathroom (very large and luxurious) I went looking for family, that I expected to be there. I felt them, but not close, so I started down a hall, through a kitchen, a library etc. And then...i was in vast unfinished room. So large, there were metal scaffolds, building materials. Unfinished. I heard noise, so I crossed this space, more halls with just steel frames of walls...and found another completed space, where I found my sister and brother in close proximity, making breakfast. I said hello, and found my mother. A bit further in. I found my nephew, riding bicycle around another partial room even farther. This was so large. I must have walked half a mile to find them. How big is this house, and why is it only built around the places were people occupy? I could run around naked whistling Dixie while riding a unicycle, and it would be unlikely to be noticed. Also I saw, the walls and rooms were not set in stone...like a Japanese house, even the finished ones halls could be sealed etc. So there was the potential for having totally different worlds, under the same roof. The frames of the house were all completed. Interesting.
My thoughts turned to ( ), and then things i was thinking about. I found, the other direction from my living area, a place...like the lobby of a fancy bar/hotel but from the 1980's. It was p erect for a party, and a bit retro. There was a bar, with black laquer counter top. Half walls, leather sofas. A sound system. Cut glass tiles like mirror sin spots on the wall. A view of the mountains, and on another part of the room, the sea. From a half wall was an interesting statue. Like a Greek marble, but made out of cut sections cemented together, not like it was broken, like a piece of art. Even some 1980's pop art on the walls. This spot would be perfect to host a party I thought. And people can claim space under the roof, and be connected yet private. So I began to think on this. But also, my apprehension was in place. Is it good to host a gathering, maybe that someone else prerogative. So I wanted to leave this comfortable space, and go back to my room. On the other hand. I thought ( ) for sure would dig this bar, and maybe ( ), even ( ) perhaps. Would it be right not to show them because i have some strange need to pack up and flee from time to time? I sat down. Actually, first ( ) found me, and looked around. He liked the bar, he pointed out there were only three bottles of wine stocked, but if we got more, hed like to try his hand at bar-tending...lets get other people. I muttered my reservations. He said nonsensical, it will be fun. Here, lets write out the invites. So I did. And he took them laughing to deliver. My apprehension as too great now. I started to leave, but I heard a song. The melody was clear, the lyrics I heard, and it came from the room to me directly, like at me, not just playing were, as I wrote them at some point. “Before you walk out that door, Baby take a good look at me” I found when I woke it is changed from the song “save the last dance for me”, a golden oldie, which I knew in the dream, just not the song. I went outside, towards the mountains windows. My father who died last November greeted me. We took a walk on the exterior. The house stretched like from horizon to horizon. He aid he had secured t, but it was mostly empty. It could hold...millions? Each with a palaces worth of space. Keeping up this empty structure was driving people to bankruptcy. So please, open the doors to friends if they would enjoy it. He pointed where one end curved into the sky, he lives way up there, it stretches like a bridge below the earth, into lower earths, and into the sky, into the astral is the word I can use. He said its fine.
But still I felt my worry a bit. Someone else, came and called to me. They showed me their secret place where they rest. It looked like a friend named aryon from college. I climbed out of the dream, I climbed beneath the water. I looked above me, a greenish blue sparkling sea. I was below it, cliffs like red rock mountains, below, granite. I found a crack, like a cave. This cave was positioned to take rays of eternal sun through the water, it didn’t feel like water, it felt like the air to me, but I could see a surface above. The water flowed more like a river then a sea, but it was like a current. So I sat, flowed along the walls, of this dry (to me) submerged open top cave. Until the light made me feel better. Happy? At peace. I knew it was a place for power shared. I climbed out, and returned to the house and went back tot hat party room.
People had come, there were small groups talking. Someone had stocked beverages. I didn’t mingle too much, but I saw ( ) talking to ( ), so I waved. I saw a partial bottle of wine, and poured the rest into a large cup. I started drinking it. I’m not a wine sipper. It was port? Wine. Had a dry wet taste I liked it. I started taking gulps to make it less in the large cup. When i walked, sometimes a wave of wine would form in the cup, and spill. Id set it down looked confused. My father came and cleaned it up. He said what ARE you drinking? I said oh I found a little wine (half a bottle one of the ones that was here when I found this place originally) he said...you drink wine? In dreams? Like that was a new one. I was feeling a bit inebriated. I said no but why cant I? I guess i do now...like I was lightening up. He momentarily looked disproving, but he cleaned up what I spilled. And then he left. And my mom left. Anyone who would make me feel as an un-empowered child...left. Went further away on purpose to give me space. I don’t need a dad cleaning up my spilled wine now do I? Lol. It was kind of them to give me space...so much space in here. I liked the feeling. I find a comfortable spot by the window and drink more wine. Now I hear “Jeremiah was a bullfrog” another golden oldie.
I’m happy to sit on the edge, and finish the wine. I sit like that a long time, enjoying the sound of people enjoying themselves. At some point I stand...i realize that wasn’t cheap wine, it was VERY expensive and potent, and I drank half a bottle...im...totally drunk. I laugh. I take my fingers and pinch the drunk feeling to sobriety. And i walk away, now im seeing a big room, and my nephew playing, deep, like the floor of a stadium, and other children. I see ( ) watching them, she just arrived. It cant be that late? Like im asleep at 5pm? No...i woke once I remember to write at 5am, once at 7am already, and now like maybe to 10am? People can and do take naps oi thought. Well she was having fun with children, they all seemed to like her, I kept walking meaning to come back and say hello after i finish something. I even saw people riding horses playing polo inside, a pool. Bowling alley...and that was just the one large unfinished room. Was neat Finally I get to my destination. Im back at my bedroom. I seal and unseal it, and anchor it firmly to this space. Then I go back.
My brother asks if I will leave to stand in line at a game pre release. I agree. Bu that’s latter. ( ) is asleep says she would like to go with me. But that’s latter still. So I have time. I try my hand at backing in a kitchen I have found. I decide to make some pastries for people. People like pastries...like kinds with a chopped almond paste filling. More like baklava then breakfast pastries. I start crafting different flavors. A bit of fun, a bit of beef stew on a chilly rainy night, some adventure. Some tears. Each is for a person I realize, or groups. Some are kinda gross fillings i think but its for them not me. As im working, I am humming. As I hum, 12 oompa lompas from charlie and the chocolate factory come. For each pastry, they have a funny song for the recipient. A warning or advice to go with the flavor. As I hum, my humming becomes the melody. As they sing, their words float in the air, and go into the pastry. What fun is baking! When im done, I make some oomploompa ones they’d like and I launch them off my hand with humming, and they jump like dolphins and catch them, and then act like minstrel tumblers, and roll out of the room happy. Well, that’s a good way to spend the afternoon. I wake. It s a bit latter still and write. What fun im having now. (Edit: on reviewing my notes, i have a section about winning a "silver ticket" which refers to charlie and the chocolate factory, but also i drew arrows to the game we were going to pick up latter...and how the game was specifically released to the house not an individule)
So, time to get the game. ( ) is here. First we go outside and I go to find a car. She tells me why do you drive everywhere its a dream just dream fly or walk. Thats a good idea. So we walk to the game store. We are standing in line talking about fun games to play. With other “gamers” hah is that glance waiting too? Must be a fun game. I see all sorts of people who “work” in the “house” staff sorta. But not really, im sorta staff too making food. But I don’t work for anyone. Some of them do for money some don’t. Get the game. I learn that my brother is working to pay for things as well, away, in his way. My real life brother. Like this game. Interesting to know Now I want to drive though, and my silver neon suddenly appears and becomes a silver mercadies. There is some confusion with the streets. I see "important" people lol. So I give myself a double breasted suite. We get out to talk to them. There is a crew filming. Like a political add? I hate politics with sides. So I say sure....IL film a add. I act like im slow and err pardon the word, retarded, But make sure i look like an important politician or business man. I move across the grass like a snail as i talk eating grass of all things. to make it really lol. I that voice, I say “ I loooove thiiis candidate) and say it for both. The press eat it up. The secretary of state (Hillary lol?) is not amused, since i just mockingly endorsed both their side and the other, and everyone thought it was funny but both of them. Hah. That’s what they get for waylaying me when we had a game to play. But then a professor comes from the crowd, and it shifts to a professors office, but he mostly talks to ( ) about professor stuff. So I figure thats a good time to wake...for the last time. Write some more.
Well, now its shifted a bit. Im floating in blank “astral” plane. I see a cosmology not dissimilar to pen and paper role playing games, straight out of dungeons and dragons or something. Heh works as well as anything else for me. The rooms of a house again. Only this time they are like slices of a peach pit, that lock together modular.
I get sidetracked again. A ghost pirate ship? It has burned, blackened wood. It is after a raid by useless, evil broken children. Then its a little rowboat or canoe...ahh I remember something about this from a tonal conversation earlier in the day. Cool. So im sure to raise the sails on the big ship, and raise the anchor, and it sails so proud and nice on the wind.
Then I get back to the peach pit legos. I see the party room, rooms people made for their living areas. They all go together, and when its done, its like a round ball. But also a seed. I see people living like in little rooms inside, connected. People I know. I go in to. I think its like “James and the giant peach” with the little house in the peach pit. How fun But also I see, its like the core of a reality in the astral, or the long infinite house turned in on itself. It also reminds me of ( ) in her tube, her plan to turn it inside out. Make it inside out. I remember...link it too...a few days after I wrote of that, DRGreen posted on the main forums about needing to “turn it inside out”. Nagual in tonal etc, not using tonal mind. Well he got it right enough, but ( ... ) I thought...it was like the party room. Or the oompa lumpa baking. Some people will ( ...... ) follow the smell and sound of what others prepare. Edit: like i think i drank some of ( ) wine) The party, ( ) tube, ( ) setting thing sup for children to have fun, ( ) and his messages, the crack in the red stone and light etc etc. and some people do...get that. Its not all about their special...So in a way, it answered the question i went to bed with. And it was fun. Godo creation. Grids. Core was rooms. Last hing I saw, was story dreams growing around that core, and a whole planet come into being, around now star, and the space was now astral, but also real. 11 hours of one setting/topic dreaming. A personal record. Fin.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-25-2012
10/22-23/12
A more complete telling.
Well, im not sure i want to write this. One section anyway. But I did, promise someone, to not self edit or recoil at projected concern at what other people might think or react, to the extent the do, so im going to, as closely to the experience as I can. Really, only one part bothered me, but how I reacted to it...doesn’t bother me. So there is that. And most of it was fine adventures and perception. So...that said.
I’ve had this open for 8 hours. And not been able to write anymore for some reason. So...going to do it 1 2 3 4 style leave most the details out, the wonderful, energetic details that make it alive. I may be getting lazy, or tired, or momentarily wise. I haven’t taken my pick of those options yet. I’m also open to other suggestions. lol.
1. In the sky, the sea of the night, there is nothing but pools of water. And planets. Planets are land, pools of water are the open sky. Stars. The stars are lights in the water. All of the empty space, all the energy flowing, that we see as empty space, is collapsed into a mosaic of planets and pools of water that are full of stars. I am the eye, outside of time, beyond, perceiving this. I want more then anything to see those I love, my friends, and share this vision. From so far, so much, it seems still, and alone. So warm, in the sea of pools and islands of land. So cold, and without color, beyond.
2. To Fly! To be the wing that rides the winds. And the wind, not so cold, not so far, in, not above. To fly on the wings of an eagle, but talons outstretched, carrying the olive branch of a dove. Transport, trick! Beware those that advize one to become a cold, hollow point. Steam parade. The fog, rising, rising, to the stars. Steam from a fence, the dew warmed by the suns rising light. Not the needle...sharp and cold, vainly trying to pierce the veil of heaven like a sharp yet flaccid, empty little phallus. Pelvic thrust, without the reach, is silly. Humph. Steam rises, the rain falls, cold. Both are water. Both fly...one lives in the sky, one falls to the earth. Consider, Sen. Consider.
3. A meal, of freshwater fish, trout perhaps. The meat is sweet, raw? Served on a large leaf. I see my friends, from here, ( ) like ( ) and ( ) and others. This day ( ) cooks, and it is freshwater fish, not pastry or burgers. And friends from not here. We wait, for the dawn to become the day. We steam, and then we rise. Smoke on the water, fire in the sky. The smoke is not burning, is steam, the warmth is the sun...all the stars. It is warmer, inside.
4. Return Someday. Rain.
5. I return. There has been a great flood, like a hurricane. A kind old woman, she opens a shack built on concrete blocks above the muddy swamp of the land. It is painted blue. There is no fema, no national guard, no international relief. Just a single blue hut, for those that might find it. I find it. I am cold, and nude. Having fallen with and as the rain. I find three blankets. I huddle, near a fire, teeth chattering. Two young men, maybe even still teenagers a bit before 20, come in. One has a stick, and another a skateboard or something like that. Black jackets, with patches. They see a man huddled in a blanket, cold. There is no one around. They think to beat him to death, for fun, to consume him. I look up, and with my eyes say please, do not. But they will, and they do...approach. Enough. I have had enough. Games, games games. Permitting such games. They know my real name, somebody from the “inside” told them where to find me “in dreams”. I am not completely nude, I am wearing a (Edited) necklace my (Edited) bought for himself in the event in los angeles. That is what they want, plus the fun of the act.
6. No. I remove my emergency blankets. The first two I snap and bind them still, and in shook. The third, the silver chord, I wrap around their necks, a different end of the blanket in each hand, and pull. And pull, till it cuts head. I pull harder, until there energy sheaths fray and bubble, it adds steam tot he room, I am warmer. No. I make sure they are completely dead. They have three days to live in the tonal (Edit: My perception in dream, certainly not a belief of fact). I enjoy, the sensation of pulling the chord tight, the sheer exertion, deliberate nature of the action. But I am sad. Just because I was not vulnerable, and they couldn’t see that... others would be....had been...vulnerable. Perhaps next time it would be a friend, or a child. Or an elder. They had gotten people here, before, and would have again. Now they would not.
7. I hid the bodies, just empty skins, like old banana peels, under the hut. And took the “warmth” and made myself my familiar clothes. I could have made them from the flame too, if I had been left alone. The old lady returned, and I asked her about the disaster, the past and future, and the city I saw re emerging from the swamp. By the time we were done speaking, the world had aged, recovered, much time had past. She was very kind...she didn’t know about those guys..the hut was to use and move on. Sometimes she meets the people that come. Sometimes she works alone, thinking there was no disaster. But rain always falls, does it not? Sometimes, broken children would just take and consume the men and women, shivering, and alone. To tell her would be to harm her. Best to thank grandmother, and move on.
8. The ones I took, because they wanted to play, not a fun game, like civilization, or Hollywood squares, but rather murder death kill, one had a wife and child, and one a sister. I felt their tears. The mother would die of a broken heart, and the wife would commit suicide. How dare they! Be so evil, so wrong, to do that...and come to their deserved end, and leave those who loved them incomplete, and sad. For them, the mom and wife, and child, I cried. For those people...I CARE. I was waiting for god, or spirits, to reprimand me, for what I did. They did not. They did not care, not like law. I acted legally. Simply taking blows, and spending energy to heal, reform, leave, was also an equally valid choice, but not demanded. I acted differently. But since i didn’t have to heal myself, I could and wanted to do more, for the sad spirits who also were victims of those two. So...I traveled tot he edge of the realm. The border, like a shimmering wall full of spirits. To the border crossing. A small village.
9. At the village, there is a open air market. There I made inquiries. I looked for vendors. Flea market traders. They had, of course, already collected and cured the hides of the two I killed. All the vendors were my friends, faces of people ive known...antique merchants, those types, even a person from an old chat room. When I asked for what I wanted, they said of course our friend. Good to see you. But I traded. I gave 3 cigarettes, tobacco, from my box of cigarettes. They gave me the twos remains. And an extra. They looked like fat marijuana cigarettes. I added these to my box of smokes, and went to cross the border. (Edit: To bring them to their loved ones to smoke) I would take them across, to those that loved them, the third joint...was what they were when they became bad. Changed them from husband and brother, loved by a child, to such low parasitic predators. That was mixed into a third joint. That one I did not put in my pack. I saw an unattended backpack, like a parcel a postman carries for mail, not with a crosser entity. In this I but the third joint, and stood two crosers behind. I did this very sneaky like. Into my pockets, I placed flowers. Herbs. And candy. To fool the dogs if they stuck their nose in my pocket.
10. The joint in the mail parcel was found, and spirits swarmed around it. I was far enough from the parcel I was not questioned. A dog sniffed me, but smelt the sage? And moved on. And I crossed to another energy realm. This was a place, a place those two would never find, never be allowed. Such low awareness was considered a drug here...a bad one. But to me this was different. This was for those that loved them they harmed, to smoke, and breath out, full of their love. To become as they saw them, as they truly were. The deaths I thought might be a crime, were not. This would be considered a crime, but I did not see it so.
11. I briefly find my (Edited) and (Edited), they have a toy helicopter with a camera, they show me...how it can hover and move, and record. What a wonderful toy. They are having fun playing. This part felt nice. But soon I had to go again. First I found my (Edited) necklace, remembered i had it, and when he thanked me, I said it was no trouble at all to bring it...he looked at me with seeing eyes. Im a bad liar. Lol.
12. Somehow it is whispered, that I am a murderer and a drug dealer. Now it is whispered. The weird beautiful blond girl, from so many dreams, from the tomb of the shawabati, is with me. I’m always careful around her, don’t lean in with emotions. Now I see...she is shawabati too. But young, not...self willed as much. She always wants me to declare emotions that would prove im malfunction...like love. So im careful to keep that to myself. For the first time in 15 years, I tell her the reasons for why she does some things, and she pauses. I say but that’s OK, I like you. She is leading me back to the dream hospital. She grabs my arm says...don’t go in. Somebody from somewhere above said your to be...recalled with sanction. I will...”Grasp” the “portal” then you can enter through my arms. I was scared. For this she would be harmed, destroyed. But no, she said, no. I am like you, just not as old. I cant be destroyed, ill find another form...my form has never even yet been alive! Its OK, see? Thank you. When she grasped the door of the hospital, she became like a great robot tiger. I walked under her legs, and into the door.
13. Doctors. Doctors, orderlies. Am the only patient really in this hospital. Others are usually my guests. Drs ignore me. Are discussing their orders. And carefully not noticing me. One guy, an orderly, sorta waves me over. Tells me whats going on. The doctors of course know see all through my eyes. They KNOW what I did and why, why I broke the seals of the border etc. They..agree. Are proud. They have got strange orders...to harm me. They have decided to ignore them. But...they cant touch me or talk. This orderly is a guest...not staff...i think...its ( )? So the deal is, he distracts a doctor, who knows the game but wont look at me so when asked what he saw knew, he knew nothing, saw nothing. I am guided, after one line of site clears after another. To move closer to the door. Eventually, the lines of seeing clear, and I walk out the other side of the hospital. The wake world side. And its done...I look back, from a hill. The war...is so close. The hospital just declared itself its own authority. I see my shawabati friend, who was born of a time when I was betrayed, as part of it, but is now my friend, had been from the start just not been alive enough to know it... the other shawabati, rise, become large. With lazer cannons on its head. The sky boils with flame. Now this place, in dreams, is a nation it accepts no more orders, broke free, in chaos. My god the wars so close...now It is at the very edge of our own tonal world. This is...news.
14. Life reviews for many, including me. UFO/abduction lucid feeling. Is just awareness, not body. I ask and am told. My review is hard, but familiar, like a fingerprint. Then I go to speak to people who are scared. None are in danger, are friends...relations. This is due to war being at the very edge of spilling into tonal reality.
15. I am driving my toy car. Can not read these notes. Looks like I wrote “Sidredah Seff taft”
16. Family gathering. I am preparing a meal. I am thinking of the raw fish, but none would eat a raw trout. I take a small piece of meat...i think its lamb or mutton, not beef. I slice it thin like fat noodles...these i lightly cook, fry, in a buttery oil, I add salt, pepper, and rosemary. I prepare a gravy from the renderings, a light one with olive oil or something similar. This is served on flat bread rolls...like gyro bread. But thinner. Not pita bread, more like Indian nan bread. Its to be folded and eaten. I want to thank ( ) for the fish meal, with the lamb, but its just my tonal family no friends so im a bit sad because im pretty sure this would taste good to her lol. There is enough for all...but one relative wants to take home the leftovers, another relative says its OK. I have to say im sorry, these aren’t leftovers, there are still 4 who have not eaten, and I too need to eat. I only made an exact portion no waste. But can I make you something special, you would like to take home? But they were so indignant, like feeling embarrassed, they said no and looked upset. But the greater harm would be to let others, let myself, go hungry, so it had to be so.
17. I drive for many hours, in my silver car. The desert, at dusk, now evening. I know the road. I leave Barstow California, and am heading towards las Vegas across the Mojave desert. Long road trip, like 4 hours. I remember every detail of two hours of that trip. But im not headed to Vegas I am going to the small community of Baker, California. You know, the worlds largest thermometer place. Kitch. Hehe. Near calico ghost town. When I arrive, its very dark, there are...things of legend in the desert. Some scary, skin walkers, some wonderful, like a maiden riding a deer, a living moon. I do not leave the road, I have a thing to do. I leave the interstate at baker, and pull into a parking lot. In real life the restaurant is called “the mad Greek” used to be the only food between Barstow and Vegas, now there are others in that little town. But with my coming, the place is given a temporary new name...that I cant remember. But the sign was blue...with a red circle in the middle...and a zigzag down the middle of the sign, like it opened and closed. Was neat. Wasn’t a word on it, and it was special one night only...like a test, the restaurant might be renamed if it was purchased. So I go in. I see the art dealers from my sisters show. And some shape shifters etc. Getting burgers, gyros, etc. When im here, im the manager, so the menu changes a bit, and lots of spirits from the desert come in to spend their spirit cash. The vendors...one wants to speak to me, in private, in a backroom.
This dealer sold me three pieces of jewelry. But now she has three pieces, that she wants
me to send to the person the gifts were for, for repairs. This does not make sense to me. Why would the merchant need repairs on things... So I make her explain several times. She shows me a paper. And the first piece. A small earning, like a stud...both sides are small and blue like lapus lazuli? She tells me. The piece that goes through the ear whole. Its...not solid...like smoke. She needs that fixed. And a necklace, and something else. I still don’t see why she cant do it herself, but she...hah it gets hard to explain. I have to be intermediary in dreams. So OK. But now, she shows me three photos of one piece of jewelry. She needs THIS. She cant make this herself. Each photo is close up of a section of a large piece...im not sure if its crown, a thick necklace or what. I see a foot, and a peg, then an space missing, all in silver. It looks royal or religious...or spiritual. I say im sorry I cant remember all of this...she makes me try. God. If I were ( ) or ( ) or ( ) I could remember this, and draw it. But I say I can at least...keep the image in my awareness and see if I can find the right person to deliver it too. That has to be good enough. Shes such a small, regal, Persian lady. But then shes not...she shifts...she looks like...a similar feeling in energy European woman. And then shes more spiritual...like in a dream a women who rode on my back, or even the other older nagual types ive met in dreams and reality. She smiles says I will do fine. She pats my arm above the elbow and smiles a nice warm smile.
Last part of dreaming. I decided to keep the dinner on the highway, in the desert. The spirits cheer, a place they can eat and mix with travelers. The changed sign becomes permanent. Now the vendors can eat and sell here too. The old chef, had kinda taken over and run the place down. And was angry about change. So the new manager...a spirit being, tossed him out. And the living moon, Menily, told him he had to walk the open desert...to either Barstow or las Vegas, but he could not demand a cab, since he gave spirit no service, and they were not there to give free rides to people that hung signs that read “no spooks, spics, or centaurs” on the front door. So in dreaming, if your ever traveling along interstate I-15, between Barstow and Vegas, and find yourself approaching the spec on the map baker ca, out by the salt flats and sand, stop on by and grab a bite to eat! If you do so in the tonal, visit the “mad Greek” and have a Gyro, and look to see if anything seems...odd. I’m going to make that my next road trip now
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-26-2012
10/24-25/12
Obama Drama
When I began sleep, I was as I was in high school. I was sitting in the old gym, on the bleachers, having a long debate discussion with a friend like I always used to do. I still remember the actual debate we had. This friend was a very conservative, ahh...He didn’t watch TV shows like normal people, he watched Jim and Tamy fey baker and televangelist shows, TBN network. Very smart. Also, unlike me, very gay...although he wouldn’t even admit it in his own mind...part of the reason he was so angry. I knew, somehow, so id often bring up gay rights, Concepts of seeing and freedom from expectation... and he would denounce it, but it would be a conversation not yelling...but my making the effort, I think, when he was so messed up, is what made him seek to be my friend. That wasn’t what we talked about, that day, or politics or religion. It was...alien life. If life could even exist on other planets, and if so, what that meant for christian faith. After hours of arguing, and again in the dream, I got him to concede that microbial life might be almost inevitable due to functioning of chemistry, but that proves nothing to him. Still...it was an inching of his rigidity. I took it then as a small healing almost, and did again in the dream...but I saw even clearer, how that crack opened other cracks that blossomed with life in time. But they blossomed, in part, in the cracks of my own...dreams.
One of our history teachers, and aged hippy, the guy that ran all the academic competitions I used to take part in like academic decathlon, etc, kinda let me run a bit wild. In the sense that he would let me use the blackboard to explain physics, or any topic, and just sit listening and disusing things, before the end of class, things i of course didn’t learn in any book. I used to be more detailed. Sorceric things even, although at the time I claimed to be an atheist...even though I certainly was not I just didn’t have a better word for what I was. This teacher...he had a full scholarship to award from the College of William and Mary...this teacher was my friend for years. Was everyone’s favorite teacher. He told me about it, had me get my application in order etc. But then a few months before graduation....he stopped talking to me. And never told me he had given it to somebody else...my friend. I found out at the ceremony. So...after I was over, he came up to me and asked if he knew why he did it. His son was a classmate, and heard I had made a joke about him. I actually made a joke about an artist, it got mangled and his son and I didn’t get along that well. He knew, when I explained quietly, that I was being honest. He looked stricken, and said well its done. And it was...done. I cant, now, although at the time I didn’t let it bug me, it wasn’t in my nature for such things to bug me...cant help but thing how life might have been different with an Ivy league education (for free) vs what I ended up doing.
But for my friend, it really did help him. Away from his small town environment and parents, the artwork of Robert Mapplethorpe made him admit his nature. And he still did go on to be a priest, or pastor...in one of the liberal protestant denominations and last I heard was a happy, openly gay bishop of some renown. So...good on him. One of the reasons my mom and I got in an argument, is she brought that teacher up, and I blurted my resentment, and she said you never told me...how was I to know? Like I had harmed her...i didn’t even get upset. So it was coming up for recap I guess first things first that was a buried one. Also, when we argued, my mom reminded me she got me a transfer to Her school, Pitzer, and a scholarship, and I refused to transfer because i was captain of the debate team, had student government etc. So its not like I didn’t have other options. And I know, change one thing, and maybe people now I care about I would never have known, etc etc. Cant say its better, actually, when ive seen me get what I think I want by spirit, the outcome is usually not only worse, but tragically wrong somehow. But when one is sorry for themselves, in some corner inside, they often don’t really care about such facts. Also, I mentioned the college in Valencia dream, guess that was the night before. The old Templar/Spanish noble/king...with the same name as the city...Valencia. As boothsby (Of star trek fame), he asked me if “didn’t I think the lords college” there in the dream city, might be a better quality education then some hick town on a backwater part of the planet. And then I saw the next step...and it was true, and made me laugh. He also used my “Tonal Phone” against me, how much space would I thing I had from that now...id never be off the phone. Certainly not enough to spend so much time in different attentions, and writing, and stopping to be quiet inside. Full wallet, impoverished awareness etc was kinda broad ranging.
So it tied back to that. It also ties into the next, more narrative part of my dreaming.
Obama Clause is coming to town! Do I have to see him again. Not on his red tricycle, no in his full power. It was a very realistic dream. I was contacted that I might want to go. I am very broke. Nothing at all in the dream wallet. How does one be a proper supplicant? Supporter? They carry signs. So I made two quite appropriate signs I thought. But on a “union” jacket, covered the bases. The president of the university I graduated from, sent me the message, and another administrator at the time now in politics. That it might help me out my pickle if I went and shook his hand talked to him. Well, my finger had been throbbing, my left index finger, glowing one of them, ET style, before bed so maybe shake with that hand I thought I don’t know. Well, I was going, it wasn’t far, in the small town a quick stop. I drive to the place and get out...and its a long wait till he comes, with police eon hand, road closed of etc. Actually, there aren’t many people here, more press and police then people who came. I go into small Asian fast food joint, open my wallet and realize its completely drained of funds, and my bank account isn’t much better. That’s why i showed up. So I cant even sit and eat greasy noodles. Or rather, its best not to waste energy on that. I’m thinking maybe I should wave my signs im so proud of working on, but nah im tired ill pop up when the cameras start clicking. So I sit, on a curb, next to my signs And fall into sleep.
In the dream in the dream, im in the university presidents office, the real one, from a memory. We aren’t talking about the event. That man was very proud of the schools Etruscan pottery collection. A bit of it was in the campus museum, but most of it was in his office in earthquake proof shelving along one wall. I was always drawn to the pieces, and, in real life, he was always happy to spend five minutes pointing out the pieces to me and chatting about them. That’s usually how wed start our meetings. I liked him. One year id be the student rep for the diversity committee, the next year the college republicans...and maybe that same yer maybe the college democrats, this club that club. I was always taking on different rolls, but keeping the friends from each so it wasn’t like walking out of one place and joining a new one. I know, from our talks, he found that strange and interesting, and we talked allot...about rolls...again. But in the dream, unlike real life, he let me hold a few of the pieces. I was drawn to three. A dancing woman, another had a man playing a flute, and the last one had sphinx. He really encouraged me to run my fingers over them, "taste" each piece, then he put them back. Then a sound woke me back to the street scene.
The secret service had arrived, taking positions Campaign staff as well///they are lining the people up, to look like a larger crowd...like two deep. The president will shake the hand of every other person, and exchange a few words. As this is being set up, the university president, and some state level political guys, and a senator (Hello Barbara boxer lol) show up as well, getting ready to mug for the cameras. My signs are good to keep. I’m feeling pretty good you know, Did the signs, showed up, waited. Good things got to come from all that change in my routine. President was coming in his full authority, and i was visiting him....it wasn’t me (and others)being asked for (something specific or general) for once. I even refrained from cracking jokes at the secret cervix …. err.... service guys. Didn’t even yank their chains for a change. And then the university president sees me, and walks up, we speak a bit, then hes walks away in a crowd of political people, presidents motorcade is pulling up. He pauses, and speaks back to me “I hope you of all people realize how hard this was for me to arrange”
I said yea...what did it cost...ten million right? He nodded his head seriously, and then was whisked away. I hold up my signs, one in each hand...im wondering which I should drop when its time to shake his hand. Bu then the secret cervix...err service guys, when everyone else is out of view, kinda move me to the back row of the “crowd” I say wait, I need to shake his hand (the index finger like before sleep feels like it son fire) and we have something important to say. One agent looks at the other, and says “Cervix says!.....BZZZZZt wrong answer” and laugh. Gee, I guess they were still sore. Good “family feud” reference though. Well, this fucking sucks. What a waste of time. And my damn finger is absolutely throbbing now. Screw it im out of here im waking up.
And I do. And I lay in bed quite grumpy for a few minutes. And my damn finger feels like it going to pop like a horror movie from the pressure. I get the inspiration. To touch myself...good touch. No, not that kind of touch. I, still in bed, touch around one side of my chest and start drawing...what I see. What I saw. The figures from the Etruscan pottery. One side of the chest gets the dancing woman, the other the man playing the flute. And my belly gets the sphinx. And then...the blood is no longer rushing in my ears, im still grouchy...their loss...maybe Mitt Romney or the Easter bunny or Blackbeard will be by I still have my signs ready. But whats that smell...eggs and bacon cooking. Its been...along time since ive been up early enough to smell...brunch. I’m also completely energized now, not tired. Well screw it, one only need two hours sleep anyway. So I get up, have some bacon and eggs, start my day before night for a change, talk to some people, on the computer...and take a long nap in the evening. So if I wanted to be some fake as Glass half Full Pollyanna over it, it worked out great. But screw that, sometimes I kind alike to be grouchy. I also could...think back to what the old man told me...reminded me...of forks and the tonal phone etc. But that too, would be making lemon-aid out of lemons. So ill reserve my grouchiness, and enjoy it, knowing full well it goes straight to my thighs...and I will most likely be rick rolled as a result. Aint life grand? I guess the orphan Annie is is a good alternative choice for being Pollyanna. It beats the story of Ricky, that’s for sure.
~ fin.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 02-09-2013
Stuff.
Possesed by a strong hunger/desire to eat at 2:30 am. I killed leftover macaroni, kettle chips, and put my hand in a jar of neutella like a bear in the honey jar. I needed to be up soon ish so sleep wasnt really my goal, just rest. Strange centered feeling (due to food) in midsection. Strong connecting outwards, radiating feeling. Dreams formed without sleep. Spoke my name several times to people i found, and "played a song". Just skipped into actual sleep like that. Somebody let the 16 year old beagle out in the cold, and didnt wait for him to do his business, so his howling made me get up. I didnt wake as such, i took the time to excuse myself from the people i was talking too, saying i need to wake to let him in as hes old and its cold and he wont shut up if i dont will howl himself hoarse. I really cant remember much but the my excusing myself and being in the park? outside? setting i saw before i got close to sleep. I was talking to or asking about ( ), and he or someone else "played another song" i hadnt thought of, and now i cant remember what it is, but it was a real song from the 1970's. What was most interesting as i "woke" with a ripple, detatched, there was something else centered in the midsection, after i woke, a few moments latter the bed vibrated/rippled. It felt like what i experience before earthquakes, or even micro quakes that never are felt...that was fascinating and felt....happy somehow. (I live on the san andreas, san jacinto, several other fault lines where they meet n a jumble so micro quakes are a daily thing...and ones that can be felt are frequent enough too.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 02-09-2013
1. A long dream, some people were with a foe, a foe i had to defeat, and i did so, and they all were killed. But this of cource was not the end of it. As the figures faded (like in a game) i did something. the backstory was set in a place like the movie "Scar Face" Early 1980's miami, very authentic, had the characters. I was scar face and the enemy was like "sosa". I didnt want to hurt any of them, but he had them around him like an energy shield, so i was with someone ( ) and we destroyed them all. But all the other people, i kept their forms from fading. I got pulled into another level of the dream (In the moment where i kept them from fading). A research lab, like darpa. They were studying nano paste...ie, artificial life from energy that could repair and be formed into living or non living matter. Rooms and rooms of research. I accessed it, exploring, commenting. Something happened, and i had a breakthrough...all the people in the lab, and the lab itself, and me, were made of this nano paste...energy given form. They were trying to figure out how to do what everything was made of...with limited results i couldnt actually share my insight in a way they understood, but found a way to leave a sample. Then i go back to the miami florida setting dream, its the moment i left. I use my hands to stabilize the other figures and revive them, and now that the enemy was removed, they had nothing better to do then be nice, walk along. But they were messed up...one woman was missing part of her lip, another had a bullet hole through the side of the head, etc. Like walking dead. I tried to speak my tongue felt weird...i reached in and scraped my tongue...it was the energy of the words like causing buildup. I look at my hands its the grey paste..i can speak and make it...i have inspiration, and i take some and touch it to the women with torn away lip/face...and it molds and repairs it. It doesnt take allot. So i start fixing everyone up, and then we go to a disco and i dont dance, i read a book. lol.
2. A long dream tuning frequencies. An old style transmitter, maybe shortwave radio. As the dials move, it shows it on an osiliscope. Its transmitting, its strange, it is uning the relaity of the dream but its like with dog whistles...humans have a narrow range they can recognize as such, but its still going into other frequencies. A...observation: Even if one cant "hear" the sound, one can put awareness intot he wave itself, and travel in places directions they can not ever hope to see, but its more esoteric then that. Drema became like a pulstating, living...mass of energy from the pulled back perspective, but inside it became the radio room and a conversation with a man aw we fiddled with the knobs and spoke and spoke into the wave via an old style microphone/hand thing.
3. A dream i choose to see as a game. Like some sci fi First person shooter. A team match, fire the orbital cannon (or stop the other side) It was more complicated the that. ( ) was playing too, he told me the name of the game even but i forgot it. But it was a dream not playing it on a screen. He had some funny commentary about how some people play just spamming the pulses overloading the dream...so he was messing with them (this had a tonal equivelant actually) He was doing something with the cannon....which went up the side of a mountain was huge like a quarter mile in diameter and several miles long...into space almost...some plot point was flipping a bunch of switches to fire it. I said my god how byzantine...i guess it wouldnt be a game if one could just press a button and it works....no there has to be some "reason" for all this vertigo climbing and juming and long corridors and open rooms...so cliche. lol. when the cannon fired, it had pules waves of energy around it and a long long burst like a minute. It was epic awesome and blueish colored energy.
4. Back to the nano paste. There was a black woman in the research lab. For some reason i thought she was ( )...but not. I had some paste on my hand i touched her forehead...and then she was a white woman with slightly curly blonde hair. She was excited at first, but soon, we got into a long conversation. She was fine being black, thats what she settled on...related to and with in context. Why does she have to be white? or be "dressed in other then the bag like poncho she had with a strange hood with leaves on it. Surely it helped the people giving the stink eye to see better, cause one little blemish or something not to their expectation they judge and such, but surely that was about them and for their benefit." So...i didnt know what to say, all good points. I said. "But i had no image of what you should look like, surely it would not be this, id think it would be like real you? I didnt do anything with the paste...you did....i just touched your head She said hmmm...well in that case, it interesting and cool. lol. (becasue it="it" looked="looked" like="like" a="a" character="character" called="called" dr="dr" cher="cher" from="from" show="show")
5. A city, a vast city, but its under a roof, a multilevel mesh shaped like a skylight. Like a whole city and sorounding country were on a table top. The mesh filtered "rain". I live in the city. But its too rough for me now i think....or worn. I want to leave. Something like with the wave of the radio unfolds. It builds a tube, tubes, that connect to suns, and planets, all rotating, in energy, planets are positions, worlds, like the city and nation on the "table". Im working on it. A old lady comes and watches. She says..."this is what you (people) always do. Too much darkness or sadness creeps in, crime, and you pack up and move to a new "ball". "white flight" she calls it. You make a new ball, instead of cleaning up the one your in. And why did you paint your friend golden? (I didnt!) As if that means anything...no it only means something to the "white flight" types who left long ago leaving this web, where are they, what are they? nothing...cut off...alll the "power" of "life" comes from the "roots" of this structure, not the branches White flight They dont like blemishes either, she says, they paint it all their (perception) pretty paint on a fading husk....perfect little flowers, pedals carried away on the wind...and the gnarly old tree structure endures, even grows. (old she="she" made="made" a="a" reference="reference" to="to" wolfs="wolfs" rain="rain" here="here" nobles="nobles" and="and") then she let up on me... she knew i didnt try and paint anyone the color i wanted them...she was making a point. And it was kind of me to share my "nano paste" and reform the wayward followers she said...again, they wouldnt waste such power on that...i should just keep in mind the fate of a perfect blossom on a branch...it gets plucked! Or harvested, and the pedals fade away in the wind. Cherry blossoms are neat, in the wind, but its the death of the flower, making room for the substantial fruit to come...consider it....and you will, she laughed, you are way to "gnarled" to be picked for your perfection. It was funny but i was only weakly chuckling.
6. A hunter. A griseled old hunter. It was the guy who had the dog blue from the anime "Wolfs rain". shooting wolves. Well, they were eating a family, so it was unpleasent but...ehh. Even people shoot other people who do that...but it was sad, and i was hoping i wasnt furry....hehe. But then, their is like a small wolf...and their is a little boy who looks like a picture of my dad when he was five...i am looking through the hunters shooting scope with his eyes. Its a nice puppy, and my dad is smiling...tenatively...touching it and retreating and smiling, and the pup yaps and plays. their is an older man with child dad. I see the hunter thinking about shooting. I say...you arent considering pulling the trigger are you!? He says yes...in the end its all the same with weariness...but he says...but i will not (it would make you sad was he unspoken part). Im looking hard at him. If he cared so much for predetors and prey, why does he not "help"? He watched people get eaten, and just took note like noting a crime...to justify his shooting...he didnt really seem to care...but it was odd, more things going on. And why was he showing me? He seemed tired, not bad.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 02-09-2013
1/15-16/13
The Big Story
1. I come to recall, in a bit of a predicament. I have been taken to a shop, and the shop sells clothes, food, games. I am paying for what I need, and I do not have the funds to do so. A friend took me to the shop, I was with several people. My card wont run, and I try several variations, and manually input my account information. It simply will not accept it...I am broke, or broken, it seems. I am literally paying for life. The shop keeper, and his son, are like gods in some way, and they are quite angry. He calls me lido, what kind of name is that, something about gambling ive been doing now ive ran the account down... So we speak, and the speaking forms a dream, the dream is the cost to be payed.
2. A great field, like a planned futuristic city, the central park. I am walking, with friends and acquaintances. Still, nobody really knows me, just what I wear, and this is as its supposed to be I think. It s some sort of national holiday, remembrance day they call it, but it is like the fourth of July, or any national celebration of birth/founding, not specific to any particular nation as we know it. I check on groups, and smile and chat, then move to another, like a politician, in some way, making the rounds, or an elderly patriarch is more accurate. I am the least of those assembled, by one reckoning, but also, I am one of the first 100. I am one of the 100 aspects of self, myself, in 100 different forms. I am the only of the hundred here, so therefore I am one, but it is hard to explain.
3. Artists are screening a film, its projected into the air on suspended water vapor, to create a three dimensional effect in the sky. There are many women here in small triads/groupings. I sit with some, or rather, I sit, and many linked groups follow and sit to watch. My feet are not covered. We watch a film about the birth of this place, this world. It is like a story, of beings, and the tonal link would be the first colonists on mars. And now it is a thousand years latter, the planet has been terraformed. Part of remembrance day was the story of that challenge, and the memories and songs of distant, and forgotten, lost earth. This world was a branch of that world, like a cutting taken root in another pot. It was quite artistic, the film, it was energy. As I watch, I look to my feet. They have disintegrated, the souls. There is a pile of powder...i call it cheese, around my feet, and I try and hide it, before somebody sees, No one seems to get the significance of my feet of powder, but some guy and girl see, and they say “all those who sat next to him, I hope they like foot cheese” and I turn red. Because now the others notice and start moving away.
4. One lady sees my shade of red, and takes my hand, and leads me to a small office space. She says she gets her feet decoratively done here. Somehow, they attach a small plastic, shaped like a sandle...like jellies, onto my foot to protect it. It has lights like veins, blue light, led type quality. It is such a thing to see! I can jump 30 feet in them...and when I look, I can see all my bones and flesh, how things work inside, like through a window. I can still ear shoes too. It didn’t cost much, why did I never do this? Not something id thing off...i just scrape of the powder when I shed. This is way less messy. Thanks...i love my crystal jelly lighting up feet things.
5. I was putting on a small face...i had been here since before most of these peoples great grandparents were born. I was one of the first hundred. ( ) was one too, but as one of the hundred fragments. Was strange. I was like iron man inside, but my suite was my body. But it was a secret didn’t matter anyway. I think...i was a janitor or something as far as anyone else knew. I have been walking, visiting cities, in the weeks after the celebration. Hitch hiking even. I found somewhere strange... like a mountain of instantly frozen lava. On it was a great greenhouse. I went in...the plants were strange, very strange. It was the lair of the “villain” of this world. He was a man made of plants. He was also one of the first 100, who left the crystal dome on the day of the first sun. So we greeted each other as such. I told him about the man and the women laughing at me for my feet, and how because of that I let my souls be capped with stylish jelly crystal bottoms. He said...yea...look at me, I’m made of living ivy and have allowed myself to be cast as some sort of villain because of those people. He asks, wistfully, wasn’t it better when it was only us, the 100 in one...I say...yes...grudgingly. He always had that opinion, that’s why hes the villain and im the hero. Lol. He wants it just to be one/100 and nice friendly plants. That’s our difference. He was silly.
6. Back tot he main city. Somebody who I know is ( ) come and gets me. I am sitting in the park at night, maybe sleeping in it. He is excited, I need to come quick. ( ) was on a committee writing a constitution bill or rights. Not a national one...no, its for being alive...being...I am. Generations have come and gone, with no progress on this, what is the meaning of it? But he says he and the other current sitting members had a breakthrough, and I walk besides him. I ask :finally, did something I write...something I dreamed...something, did someone understand? He said well yes...err no. No your notes are as confusing and impenetrable as ever...sorry. I laughed but was a little sad...but then he says “but that’s not the point. We were discussing them, and from that we had an idea! Come read it. I read. It three short sentences. Its good. In all of time, no one had ever figured it out written that much...i feel relief. Partly because im the siting chairman of this great committee, the permanent member, and I don’t have a clue. Progress is progress!
7. Several people who I new to be people from Rf...i think, if I recall correctly, one was ( ), came and got me to investigate something eerie. It was like a swamp of acidic, boggy water, peat flowers, very dark and foreboding. We waded out into the bog. I could see, in the peat, bog mummies with petrified flower garlands. But that’s wasn’t the focus, there were animals, floating, alive, suspended din the bog water. The first was a very Egyptian looking cat...i said lets help him, poor thing. They said...no...its energy feels weird, don’t get close. They went to a large horse or cow, suspended in the water. But I thought fine well I needed to help the cat too...but...it looked at me strange...and it was so sudden, the head grew and two huge fangs went into my arm, and it pulled me under. This was lightening fast. Like the speed a frog eats a fly. I briefly saw, in the murky water, it was no cat. It was a women, dead, pale, green hair, like a drowned person, greenish tinge, and kinda pissed off. Then I woke. I was like...flip what the zip? That sort of thing never happens to me I get out of it...i didn’t die, I got pulled awake by it. I laughed, now I know what a fly feels like when the frog eats him, so I guess I had recall now and notes to take...otherwise I wouldn’t, I could tell by my body. See, ive been so...Emo, like *** dreaming, who cares, dreaming awake things like that, that I had been refusing. Its what the man at the start was mad about, and now this spirit...i want earning my pay? But it wasn’t about writing here, I mean I never used to write these, but i always recalled and considered. So...hmm.
8. Summary. Dream maybe I shouldn’t say because i cant explain well. About my father, and graves for pets. All the pets, when they die, I dig the graves, and I don’t like it. But I do it. Now, a woman comes saying something my father wronged her, and to prove it she has me dig up a grave and look at a dogs bones. But its a child’s bones, and small child’s. Somehow this is related to the dream with my father the age of these bones and the small wolf. So, she says he did this, but its really not saying he killed a child...its....metaphoric. So she wants her just revenge on him. That hes dead doesn’t matter. So I let her scream at his ashes, and he hears, but only to the point he earned. She wants to defile his corporeal remains, and I wont let her go that far, shes only entitled to have her say, not some sick vengeance. She died recently. She says I have a half brother by her, 2 years older then me. Hes dead now too though, suicide. She was a witch. I’ve seen her before many times, for awhile she wanted to harm me, because shes angry witch. But then she left me alone, because I listened, I thought she was better, but I guess shes in the angry dead phase.
9. Latter in dreaming. I’m in an SUV with my sister. But its not my sister i know its ( ). We are driving in new Mexico? Like to an Indian town, somewhere on a reservation. Shes kinda crabby. Well, we get to town, everything’s closed. No where to eat, not even use the bathroom. This is why my sisters mad, its not hospitable to dream travelers. And no one will let her use the bathroom. We stop at like a boarded strip mall, there are piles of old newspapers around. She says she is going to **** right there, they don’t have any place open to use. I say fine...do it, ill stand guard. I think the police would love to arrest us, but I am not scared of it, I kinda want them to say something. No one does. She does her business in a pile of newspapers around the corner. An old Indian women comes pushing a little metal cart thing on wheels, like old people use sometimes...she says something about it...i say you could have opened you home too, but you would not. Now you get turds in your nest. PISAC! Strangest thing, the man from the first dream, write after I went to sleep, finishes dreaming by saying “there, that ran and smiling hes nice again. HE had called me liddo, the song, it started actually playing, and I left the store, and I walked out the door and into my body and sat scribbled a few more notes and got up.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 03-10-2013
2/19-20/13
Blood Sausage/Great Library
Going to try and be more concise then I often am...no guarantee it will come out shorter, however. My first notes were written without seeing, so are random scrawls across a page never properly woke to write them, and I had only been asleep an hour or two when I took them. As has been happening, my last dream when I woke was on the same plot as the first dream...and that’s usually a good sign to me for recall and importance to pay attention.
Long part talking to people, similar to talking over the internet, but the dream version...of course, one can actually go to people in the dream version so its a strange hybrid of real world things. I was talking to people, figuring things out, visiting. The plot from a few dreams ago...all the Tesla motors cars on the side of the road waiting unexpectedly resolved, and I was contacted that I had won one, possible in conjunction with another, ( ) specifically. It was cool, and this was late in the first section of dreaming like after “work” was done. It looked more like a dodge viper with no doors, was really wicked fast and cool and powerful looking. And it had a huge battery charge, lots of range. So either I thought he had contributed to getting it, or the other way around, so whichever way it went, honestly neither of us needed it that often, don’t need a muscle car to go to the grocery store to buy diapers and milk, or cat food. So I knew he was ripping around dreams in it first, and when he was about to wake called me said its all yours, and I linked and was there and took possession of the keys and he woke. We talked about leaving the keys in a spot when we were done, so anyone (we knew) could use it as needed/wanted...no reason to park this baby in a “garage” swap it as needed. So it was cool and I took off down a long highway to the countryside driving towards my dream area. Wind in my hair, rocking out to some toons, just flying having fun. What a gas...no...its electric. Lol.
I found a dirt road, its the road I took, up the back side of a golden hill covered in dry grass. I wanted to walk it, and soon it wasn’t much of a road...it was like a fire access road, very steep. I needed to hunch to climb...no vehicle could drive here, and I rose and rose, and crested a hill, and there was a small valley between this ridge and the next one...and my dream home town was beyond the hills. I removed the keys form the car and it disappeared..the car was in the keys just pulling them out brought it took it away. So...it felt nice, and I decided to hike/walk. Down in the small valley, there were thick trees, and the road became a tree lined country road. Hawks circled in the sky, the sound of a small creek, a deer. I knew this place, from so many dreams. There were two compounds here I remembered, one was a spa retreat, and the other was a old hacienda, behind aged crumbling adobe walls, surrounded by bogenvia trees with a terrace all around, with adobe columns...it was as I remembered...i walked under the terrace, the rood was a lattice, and red blooming bogenvia formed the roof...bumble bees, a warm late afternoon sun, a hummingbird. The sound of a fountain in the inner courtyard. But what drew me was my nose...i smelled something, I didn’t know what, sweet but slightly metallic, cooking, meaty, rising from the inside courtyard. So I went under some arches, and came out into the inner courtyard, near a bell tower (was set up like a small California mission church complex from the 16oo's. Like mission San Juan Capistrano) Even had swallow nests on the wall
I slowly made my way in and looked around...there were huge tube sausages like in black casing...but thicker then normal sausages, sitting on an outdoor grill. There were bread loaves shaped like little fat ties near them warming. And, oddly enough, a package of wonder bread just sitting there too seemed an odd touch. There were only six or seven people moving about...i thought this some sort of spiritual commune, it was last time I found it three years ago or so (more like 1 or 2). The people...they looked too real somehow. One woman had curly hair, that was turning silver, she was a bit heavy set looked like she might be in her late fifties or early sixties at least. There was another woman, maybe a bit younger, but not much, but really tan and fit like she climbed rocks all day. They were the supervisors. Then just people milling. It looked odd...no one was really tending the food or setting up tables. I came and stood, smelling and looking...and thought...ahh they are about to take lunch. I wasn’t hungry but that enticing smell...perhaps I will ask to share their meal with them, and leave a donation of 15-20$ since I had it on me. The two woman were conversing, and speaking different languages. One was speaking Spanish, and the other, nothing I recognized right away. So I spoke to the one with curly hair, she seemed senior. “Pardon me, I was passing by and smelled your wonderful food coming from this beautiful spot, might I share in your meal? I will certainly donate for the privilege.” She looked at me appraisingly and said “We don’t feed tourists, as a general rule” I said “I see, last time i was here, I took a meal and a conversation, this time I could even pay...but of course, I don’t mean to intrude” She beckoned me over and said “how long ago was that, I can check the book” So she opened a leather book, with handwritten names...like a registry. I noticed how few names were written in it, so it didn’t take long. I even spelled my full name exactly and the last name cause its hard for people. Yes here you are, “#$%#$%#$ family” it is signed. Seems your sister was here last time...her name is still in the pending column. “I remember her...such bright eyes, and a sharp nose, I’ve never passed such a person on from here/accepted. I left her in the pending column as we had no further contact.” It was strange, how positively she spoke of her then said id never accept such a nice person. Me on the other hand...
she asked “did you bring your resume?” I said no, im just passing through. Hoping this would end this line of questioning. It did not. The other lady spoke up to the curly haired one. “who cares about all of that, just talk to him”. The first lady said “of course I am but I wanted to Ask for his comfort...some value such lists and are offended if I dont accept them” there was no talking for a bit, and we kind a looked in silence. Then the thin older lady spoke up... “If hes was a member of the Donner party, just assign him some people and be done with it” However, if hes a part of the true blood, then let him...” the first lady interrupted “I’m tired of that lineage, clan...they come, we outfit them, and then what, they disappear and never help do any work” in frustration. I was looking back and forth between them as they spoke, there was allot more going on then words. The curly haired lady added, “if he is, he didn’t bring his people” She was frustrated. I knew what they meant, about assigning people, blood etc. the thin lady said “he followed the smell of those (blood sausages) cooking, and shrugged her shoulders like that should be that. The first lady I spoke to like shook her head slightly then softened and smiled and sighed a bit. She said “OK, just talk. Who are you? What do you do/see?” Now I didn’t start right away. So many things. Donner party? Like the cannibal pioneers caught in the mountain pass? It was said like a inside joke sorta...it meant something else. So should I mention well ( ) or anything, I really didn’t want too. Any opinions I might say...who were these people? Something in my mind wondered if it was Ratham/channeling thing...i think I knew of that from arhcos's post I remember...but this isn’t Oregon, but is it that kind of place? No didn’t seem so, the spa fancy place on other side of valley was I remembered was but a different thing like Ra/UFO something. One of these women was a real current age...on of the CC witches I thought and the other...im not sure. But I didn’t want to mention anything about books, they’d wave me silent and be disappointed I knew etc. Plus I just stopped to get a snack. So...i began speaking. When my voice started it was strange sounding. I brought my hands out. I said “I see, sometimes I see...” and my hands moved and formed a smooth sheet, and “see” was a funnel in a sheet as I said it moved It...they were looking intently, and had the ahh! Look like its what they wanted to hear see, but I started saying more, but nodding...i made a swirl with my hand in front of me and started to speak more...there eyes followed the swirl and then back at my mouth...and I spoke again.
And I was awake, completely tired, for no reason, eyes closed, but awake. I knew what happened. I started telling about myself. And im not allowed to hear that. Theres the snap point, when I see/say/remember beyond a certain level, I snap awake, or shake. Because im not ready to know. Its annoyed me since i was young. I can go farther now, but like not cross a threshold. So I didn’t know what came of it, what agreements were made etc. Some people, like say wolf, hold me a bit longer so I stay in myself long enough to do things, but then it snaps away into a foggy story after. This was solid, rock solid dream reality. With warts and all. So scrawl notes go back to bed, wondering what I said next what happened. But then again, I knew, I just didn’t have...specifics. Nothing before that point, however, was retracted.
Lots of dreams following up the car, talking to people, important things but they did not quite stick in between. The next area that imprinted strongly was the last few hours of sleep, and I woke once in the middle to write down a few words even.
I was seeing a progression, a long spiritual journey and somehow, someway during it, with the larger organization I, or the path? Had fallen out of favor. It was as subtle as that, not replaced, or annulled, just not as favored, in some way by a larger gestalt. This part, I will condense as I see I have already exceeded my self imposed limitations on writing.
So something had fallen out of favor as being too...idealistic? Hard? Soft? After many journeys in dreams, I had one friend, ( ), with me exploring, and another, who I was not sure who it was...seemed like a child almost. We were trying to figure out what was going on, because the larger organization was not hostile, but it was supporting something, some entity, we could not understand, none of them did exactly either. And this was a switch somehow or a change of focus. Whatever it was didn’t see us more then we it, so it was also gathering information...a part about symbols on cards as being a earlier part of this. So in order to gather more information, we went to a great library building. We got stacks of books and periodicals, and began reading them. Somehow, we found there were two versions of every text. One placed on top, and one at the back. Two versions of the same book, but the change was in intent, energy, not even words. She began looking at the books side by side, and the silent librarian when we asked brought out both copies of each neutrally. Now more people gathered to see what we were doing. Friends, people from here and maybe people I know and she might know outside of here as well. Flipping through the magazines, rubbing my nose, I found it. The differences in the images...but whats more, I saw how to identify the changed copy from the original. So I quietly showed everyone how to find it...it was a mark in the copy rite of the periodicals. Once we found that, the people looking at magazines, not ( ), she was reading books carefully...each took a representative copy...a magazine on fashion, one on economics, a national geographic...the changed versions. I showed how to open it so it was balanced...and then rip it in half...so we began ripping breaking the spines of the “bad” copies. This made a change....these periodicals were “heavy” and “unbalanced”. The librarian smiled and nodded in approval, which surprised me.
Then people left, and it was just three of us again. ( ) looked up she had found how to see the change in the books. But there was more...there were more then 2 versions of each...some texts there were 14, 18 copies. We asked for those and found some pattern to what was going on. I asked...can we...should we deface books? It didn’t feel correct. The librarian returned, and now he spoke. He asked us not to. He showed...the gradient...the books recorded. The magazines shaped, and when there was a change to the “consensus” a new version of a book appeared. It was sacred...important. The periodicals were...less so..they were for “consumption”. We agreed, and understood...books were sacred, in their totality. But what to do? The librarian was silent, again, he simply motioned to follow him. He took us down a long winding hall, and pulled a nondescript book from a shelf and placed it on a reading pedestal/lectern. When we opened it...it was ancient. It referred us to another book, something in the text I could not read but she could. Now this other book, like the ancient one, had no...other versions. But it was new. And it spelled out everything that was going on here...it actually was...the adversary guys plan/record. The librarian seeing our cards were valid, let us take it.
After more travels, we were in a hospital...my hospital, a safe place. First we sat in a quiet waiting room. This new text was not in English, I think it may have been Russian, but it wasn’t a language she knew, but it was similar enough to one she did that with patience she could do an English translation. She wrote directly above the typed print in small cramped letters...the key section. But it wasn’t ready to hand to me to read. The younger person...they needed to be safe, once we read the translation in full, there was no turning back. So we wanted to get him safe. Actually, I wanted to put them both safe but I couldn’t tell that to ( ) shed never agree to be left out of the last scene hehe.
So I checked with a receptionist to take in the younger guy. She was of course willing for me, I mean she checked my codes I had the authority to arrange it. They were old codes, but active, but not the ones actively used by beings anymore. They weren’t revokable. And she knew me. But...when she began arranging it, I saw a red light go on, and a second screen, newer, came online, giving...conflicting instructions. She began looking back and forth. She said “processing streams, please stand by” So I went to ( ), the translation was ready to be looked at. So I “read it”. It became a seeing in a screen as we read the words. A change. A being from outside of time and space, the organization that is the structure of power favored, a long slow change. An image of a man, but underneath...like cooled lava, with red veins...this guy, again. For along time changing the “periodicals” shifting the books to create new versions, and the version he settled, on, this book, was the “plot”. Now the seeing turned into the widget map that shows log ins in the main forums. I saw red dots, one like in Texas, one near the coast, one farther up and one into Canada like a long lightening bolt pattern like Indians would use. It was hard to understand...it changed into something like...nuclear bombs, north Korea, team America world police it was flashing too much I had to settle it out again back to the map. The Oscars. A award would be presented to this being at the Oscars, which was the final acceptance then this book would become history, not just a version. But it wasn’t really an Oscar. ( ) looked confused, she opened her backpack and pulled out the non Oscar Oscar. It had like wings, and in the wings were five indentations, like the holes in brass knuckles, but no empty space...digets. She had the Oscar for the category that guy needed, somehow, had intercepted it or carried it around, and certainly wasn’t going to go to the awards and give it and make this bad stuff...
the receptionist was speaking coolly called me over. She said curtly she could not accept either of them, and ( ) heard this and gave me a sharp glare. The reason was. Electrical. The hospital was running on that outside power. Spiritual power. Those two had a spiritual power, her and the younger, like myself. It would make sparks as it was configured. Also, she said that power, which was operating now due to choice of the “whole in aggregate” demanded if we showed up we be detained. However, this order was against the rules. So, this power would be informed, and no action would be taken. Also, this conversation continued because it took place under a valid code. When I started a new conversational topic, however, the other orders would have to be factored, and I would not receive straight information. The strong suggestion was leave before the conversation concludes, and I have to move to next step. And then a wink... So I said yes, hold that thought, I need to check on something one moment...and we hurried out of the room. And we had some time, but somehow, and not from the inside, the hospital was sealed off. A noise began, like...a whales sonar, pressure, pinging off of us. It made one want to curl up to shield oneself keep it out. That was the point become immobile. So we knew..somehow, so we all went different directions. First the one guy, found a section and curled down
and began to wake. ( ) went another way and I felt when she did the same...to spread it out so whatever it was had to check each. I then had inspiration...to do the opposite, to hone in on the pressure...not flee, or remove myself, or get far away...i followed it, the source, as it moved, and this confused it made it pace around not go to the other two. I saw were we would meet, by some double doors. I planted myself there, waiting. The being came through the doors. In a hurry...almost ran past me. It turned to look...and it was that cursing lava man. His eyes, I looked right in them...eyes were like burning tree bark. I met the gaze...he didn’t talk this time, he just started striking me. They were attacks, and each one took some of my energy out. But I did not evade, or react. I put my focus into speaking. I asked why he protected this land, then sought to harm it. Why the changed future, direct questions. So he began to answer, slowly, never missing a blow. I felt...what was happening...was he was dispersing the part of me, that’s almost the same as the me writing this. But that was the plan. Hed knock me away, so the other part of me...the iceberg beneath the water, could take over...like the part when it surfaces I go away (but I remember more and more). Balance. Power in that how much of something can manifest in reality. I didn’t even decide to challenge this being, but I was asking, and it wasn’t me, it was balance in power speaking, not me. Something strange like that. He dealt me enough death blows, I felt it when I popped. Right out and awake, but I got a glimpse of the rest of me rising to the space I had been. Whatever came next im sure it was epic. But I woke, felt fine, yawned. It was done. I woke, and was here, so it was fine. What an anti climax. I got some coffee and watched some youtube videos of epic comic con costume fails. Lol. Fin.
Edit: Added videos embed wasnt working when i posted this for a few days. Now is same as Rf version with videos.