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A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-30-2011
Ill try to post a few again, not the same ones.
This one happened on July 29/30, 2007.
Its abnormal because i actually have some understanding in context and end it with a self perception of empowerment, as opposed to simply enduring...not the way i see myself)
Im going to be selfish and share with you a few of my own recent "trips" or revelations. I wasn’t surprised that last night was "big" for me. All night very active dreams. Here are some highlights. A new neighbor moved in next door. He was a bit of a rolly polly man without being fat. He had no hair at all, and just wore shorts of some sort no shoes. The skin glistened. I was wary of him because he looked weird. The other neighbors had departed, he had got the house from them. My father told me, in hushed tones, that was his half brother who only recently emerged. He was nice. We wanted to rebuild the fence, he let us, and left a space for a future gate...a blue gate. I started wanting to do silly stuff, he smiled and said ok without talking much. Lots of boundary shifting and adding of entrances and exits through said boundaries. We were not closed in so much anymore.
Next came some guests. they were in our house but seemed somewhat bored or disproving. Quietly. We were sitting on the back patio. They commented that aloti of the interior decorations struck them as being something a 20 year old "gay" man would find appealing. This offended me. My father is/was an artist, and at times he can affect some pretty effeminate speech patterns and ways of acting , if one goes with any eccentricity = gay or weird.. People hurt him for this, growing up I remember eggs thrown at the house by people sporting the stars and bars etc and it is part of some of his nastiness and judgmental nature towards his family I suppose. I bristled a bit at the presumption to label. My mother bristled, "Are you calling my husband gay" the guests looked a bit taken aback by that. I bristled at what i thought they were saying about my dad, (even though we have never gotten along), and the things he finds interesting and beautiful (old artifacts, paintings, books as to be expected from an artist someone who taught art history curated museums). They didn’t leave, they just closed their mouths real tight and looked embaressed.
Next i took a job for a magistrate in some colonial city. Looked like a small new orleans actually, out on the coast by some isolated bayou. The magistrate was an old man with white tufts of hair. Somewhat detatched. I tried to get the letters from the last one to fill my position, the last guys notes, but he deflected that with his inocent beffudlement that was at odds with the keen eyes without saying no. There was another problem solver above or at the same level that wanted me to pick up on an old investigation. I talked to people and observed interactions. The "criminal" was the famous and loved local madam. She was learning things about people and passing them on, selling them for some gain. I understood something im forgetting now. Rather then an arrest she joined my "party". It seemed the fair thing to do for some reason. this seemed the outcome the magistrate wanted. I added my letters of report, gave them to him. And it was time to leave with his gratitude. This madam had joined my group.
Next i was in something like one of the online games i play. A less open plae then we expect irl. Due to an infestation, we had moved the operation (our anchor there) to empty space (as in outer space/void) to park. I talked to my friend from there/that place. We went from the game perspective to his kitchen in the context of the gme world, which then seemed as real as this one. The freezer door became a screen, full of intrusive advertisements that we tuned out. We discussed strategy for returning to claimed space, hit on a plan, and then he joined my party as well. Older guy (like real life template) in his 60's with a slow southern drawl.
We were back to my house analogue that the dream started at via the new gates/portals in the side yard fence. Now the three of us....the madame, myself, and the old southern guy picked up a new game. Like Grand Theft Auto series…anti hero crime drama…this was aprt of the mechanisim to remove the infestation in the other space. The shaved rolly polly man joined us. I tried to give him a tour of how the logic of the game worked. Who to shoot, who not to shoot etc. Was all very new for him, and he just was soaking in the eternal reality of it. How the people in it had buttons that corresponded to the limited interaction possible with each, from the vantage point of a person playing from the outside. Pausing that reality etc. He didn’t shrink from the violence, but it didn’t settle on that ones awareness/become a pleasure when playing the mayham. He was scouting. It was time for me to leave again.
this time the three of us were back in a swamp. Green slimy stagnant water. Ancient swamp trees and hanging moss. We were leaving from the area of the colonial city. The other sheriff, in my absence, had decided i had thwarted justice by not putting the madam up for judgement, or rather at his disposal in the name of justice. And he was looking for us. On his own whim, not the magistrates. It was all in the letters, my reports, but he was denied access to mine as i had been denied that of he who i replaced by the magistrate. We had to wade in the stagnant swamp. the other two froze found a solid spot. The warned me not to walk out to them because the mud was bottemless and foul i would sink. I checked it out...nope not a problem i cant sink. Walked back to them, and we continued deeper into the uncharted swamp/jungle.
My destination, which i got to immediatly, from my perspective because there was no need to experience the whole swamp searching, was a half submerged temple/pyramid complex, lost in the jungle. It was full of traps, false paths, and tricks. We were looking for the inner sanctum. the other two knew how to bypass and spot them up untill the inner part. I had no real clue, I wasn’t even concerned I knew they were masters of those obsticales. My awareness shifted to the final room. A great space flanked by statues of the the winged serpent and the flayed god. The Puzzle was complex. Polished silver mirrors reflected the moon light from an opening in the top. We only had the time the moon was in position to do this or we would be lost forever, as dreamers. The other two grow more and more concerned, because this is the part they have no ability to tackle. The first part of the test was arranging the silver mirrors to reflect the moon light from mirror to mirror, to illuminate a central jade and jewel stand in the middle of the room. It was too hard. The room had tiles with petroglyphs each one had to be activated in turn. More to hard stuff. there was a sacred text on a stone tablet that was our key. Something in me clicked. I became amused, after first thinking I didn’t have a clue what to do and I hate those puzzle tests. I took the sacred text, and smashed it on the first reflecting Gem on the floor. Just smashed it didnt bother reading it (Edit: In this dream, eventually I did piece it back in others read a bit and carry it over the years to come...I divested myself of it in 2010 when it seemed i no longer should)
I ignored the mirrors did a summersault laughing across the booby trapped puzzle floor. nothing happened. Now i was on a central dias. A great dog stood there, full of menace. He was blocking the path, looking at me with expectation and hunger. He was a dog and then again a multi headed dog thing from mythology. I ignored him….his threat anyway refused to focus on it like I refused to focus on the puzzles per say. Past him was an alter. like a bound man. it was grooved and stained in blood. an obsidian blade lay on it....i saw the function. A person was bound on the alter, their head cut off....it would fall into a pair of carved stone tallons below the alter. The dog would then feast on the body. beyond the lower alter was the high alter. On it was a heavy gold mask with jewel eyes. If i had done the moon puzzle, it would have been illuminated. I am more and more giddy...I do a bugs bunny sideways dance to that high alter bypassing and ignoring everything else but the feeling of being like bug bunny defying gravity.. Around the knife i see a shadow figure form. The executioner/priest of this place. So i do a somersault dance around the room, leap into the air laughing a few times, bonk my head, just clown it up.
Im being stared at with great expectation. I go to the heavy gold mask and fling it aside send it sliding across the room like a flung stone paing it no more heed then a piece of garbage. Behind it was a thin mask of very small gold chain...fine chainmail. Like a fencing mask. I dont bother studying it to much. I put it on my face, and then go into full looney toons/daffy duck mode around the room. And i can really act like a loney toon. All sorts of power from the gold chain mask. (As i type this remember the movie "the mask" lol") but the power wasn’t in the mask to begin with. Im not sure what it did but firsst contour then sink into or become unrecognizable from my face before. it was like that. I was a jester. Now the shadow executioner is revealed. It is the most beautiful women i have ever seen, in jewels. Never speaks, just smiles, bows, and goes to the others joins the party. I see what all of this was (well i saw it from the beginning , but not the ownership of it…or rather, how it would play. Saw it like an arrangement of unanimated set pieces) The puzzle led one to the alter to be sacrifised. Using the mind and following the clues. Right to have your head cut of to sacrifice to the lord of the fools. It was his temple. Being the fool, I used the correct strategy found the real treasure. Didnt take it, it was there for me. Mine. My temple from a time long ago. Or one that filed that same role in context not mine me I possesive like that. And archetypical type of owner or something. The priestess joined my party. And we returned to the house analouge.
With the mask (now fully absorbed into me a part of me again) I saw the shabiness i couldnt see before. In the somewhat representtion of my actual life. The dynamics, the purpose. My mom came up to me concerned, she looked warily at my companions. For the scantly clad priestess, she gave me the comment "so you two find a hotel room yet" this anoyed me because it didn’t hit on the truth of the nature behind the masking form. So i waved my hand. I made her skin the skin of a 16 year old. no wrinkles, no scars. This thrilled her, she ran to a mirror to look. It was a gift, but an ironic one. For the complications that would arise. Like from all gifts and actions, So many complications. I am the jester, and it was funny....in jest presenting both the problem, the solution, and the null thesis. Everything, the patterns, the energy...like that. I could see. And laugh. not at others, but at the joy of the weaving. Dont worry about my mom, the representation in that dream. The real one wouldn’t care about looking young after all the cancer surgeries and brushes with death before she was even 30...and on and on till now. Once she realized (the dream figure) the complications i would make her internal organs match the age of her skin, find her work after social security cut her disability/retirement because she was too young. Lol.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 10-30-2011
Fascinating dreams Senear! What are/were your feelings about dreaming in the New Orleans region?
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-30-2011
Oh that was all one dream heh. New orleans, that swamp/swamps, have come up again and again since then, but not in the past few years. That line, or new orleans at least ended...the line of dreams, a week or sobefore the quake in haiti with a dream about there (haiti) It could be a link because of ancestor i found from those places. That was one line of further development as was stone tablet.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-31-2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF9fqx4H_Cg
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-31-2011
This one is about a year or two old. The dream preceded RL events in the area in the dream. It ended as well as the dream for me, but was less amusing.
Well, last night when I finally began to shuffle off to bed I felt weird as well. Strangely energized and not tired, but also normally tired and wanting to sleep. Whatever sick I had has downgraded to an occasional cough no more chills and foggy head so that wasn’t it. As I lay down and seriously tried to sleep, I had the impression. You know the waves of weary or relaxation that begin as one drifts off? these started before I was even heavy in my eyelids. The sensation was of those waves coming out like sheets of tin roofing material, and hanging solid in the air around me. Not heavy, light like foam and contouring to my head. It also did not bring on relaxation or a soothing feeling. It just was, heavy in the air, so heavy id open my eyes half expecting to see them, but everything was normal. so I just let it go and in that went to sleep.
The dream must have started right away after that. It seemed normal enough. I had gotten dressed up half nicely, to go with my parents and my sister and brother to a county office building in what seemed like riverside, California. this building is next to the old mission in and is a regular modern government office mid-rise building irl. The mission inn is a old Hollywood golden era style resort built to look like a mission full of imported lattice ironwork, covered in vines etc that altogether takes up a city block. there are shops and closed pedestrian streets around it etc. County courts, cps, government are all in that downtown area. My parents were going to wait to see an official in one of the offices about some sort of property transfer, or taxes. Not in trouble, to get something done that was a modest enrichment. So I sat with them in a waiting room in the office building, we were by ourselves. The wait was very long, and no one had anything to talk about. And as they waited all the problems around were heavy on my soul. the broken car, dentist, lack of working etc. My seeming to be next to useless in solving them, not doing anything just waiting was grating on me. not heavily, just as it is in reality. a background dissatisfaction and lack of self empowerment. But not spelled out so cheesy. an emotion not a thought. So I got up and said I had to go to the bathroom or go smoke, and went out into the hall. Right away I found that the halls would connect between modern and practical currently used spaces, empty ornate rooms, indoor plazas, commercial venues, etc. Some were full of people, and some had none at all. Where one led to the other made no real logical sense. Depended on who was stepping through doors. So old buildings would be inside part of new ones etc. Wandering like this a bit, I found what seemed to be a place geared towards helping people (like me).
It was county services to homeless and destitute, drug addicts, cast offs. There were 5 or six heavy plastic knife proof windows and a waiting room full of shabby worn out blue upholstered waiting room chairs and side tables. A TV on the wall, like a hospital waiting room in an ER but a county office. I noticed the homeless guy, (epic beard man) some junkies, maybe a prostitute or two all spaced out as far from each other as they could be, just waiting in that room as bored as I was in the lawyer office one. but also wary of each other. Well this seemed like a place that could help even me. I sat to wait as far away as they were from each other as well. The TV blurted on and my field of vision was drawn to the exclusion of all else. Rather then a program, it was a information commercial made by the social services department. It was promoting the charitable donate a car receive a car if you re in need for 100$ program. Well I think I had 100$, and it was exactly something I had been looking for I thought. Like wow I didn’t know before. The information as contained din flyers in the office it said. So I looked and now on the side tables worn plastic flyer holders filled with the single sheet Xeroxed handouts. I watched them fill. I looked and noticed how badly printed they were, from toner cartridge almost out of ink. and on faded blue paper made it hard to read. I looked around at info on other services. I went to reach for one of the flyers and got intercepted. The junkies were scrambling to be the first to grab the information, like it was a race. A junkie/prostitute whatever stood just a bit in front of me on the other side of the table. Telling me she needs it more, she has to be the first to have it. For me to let her take it and me not to take one. There was implied threat and offers in it. The smell was overwhelming. It smelled like old sausage logs and warm cheese. I said I don’t think so. there plenty of handouts, it not a race, you take yours and ill take one for myself. This made them all angry and territorial. I ignored her and the smell and took one. I couldn’t even hardly read it. I didn’t want to wait here and do so. I folded it sloppily and put it in a pocket. But epic beard man had been watching and had moved his chair to semi block the exit. He began speaking normal, ranting then crying but was saying the same thing. about him needing to be first, about his poor momma that died, pulling out photos from his wallet, etc. Kind of ranting all over. Anyway he mad it clear that if I didn’t sit down play by the "rules" and let HIM leave first with the mimeographed handout, he would beat my ass like he did the gouks (the characters non PC words not mine) in Nam. I looked dot the windows full of bored almost statue like employees. but they sat with bored looks on their faces ignoring everything with practiced contempt and indifference, and boredom. Like Typical county window workers
Crazy man and junkies in my face began to make me annoyed. I ranted back. About the siege of Arbil, (Kurdistan/Iraq 1000 bc) my own time in nam, how many people I myself had speared etc. matching and one upping his threats and claims. He kept at it then stopped. And started crying. He said maybe you are the tougher, please be the tougher, be Rambo! Maybe you will kill me and I can be released from my torment. Kill me with your combat knife! in a lucid tear strewn moment. then he began crying more and ranting. and I was really disturbed and sick and just wanted to leave. I had no combat knife, and am not nor was i in context a scared veteran. I said ACK enough! and waved with a head turned and hand up in dismissal at everything in t here and just walked past him really wanting to leave and wash that memory off my skin. and the smell. It took forever to actually transit the open doorway. like a vast space on a moment of time and an abrupt transition. An instant transition but allot of time for the emotions of that tatty "help" room to become memories.
And I was instantly in a vast, pitch black space that gave the impression of an auditorium. I had entered from next to a large movie screen or curtain, that didn’t give light but was seen with the intensity of a faint afterimage when one rubs closed eyes. Their was very faintly playing some Japanese anime intro style song or like an old cartoon introduction, but it was long playing. Instantly I heard not quite voices with the impression being run go back leave your not welcome etc as a part of from with the music. the darkness was absolute, I just had the impression of things in the darkness, like dark afterimages in darkness. negative illumination of seats and a gallery etc. I tried to back up through the door and I hit a nook in a wall. there was no door. I couldn’t see anything so I slumped down small in the warnings and hugged my knees trying to be as small and still as possible. Much like a mouse huddling in the corner. The music got more intense not louder, and the voices warnings and then it went to electric silence. A voice female voice rang out, with he control of a voice actor. You! Why are you in here, your ruining the recording! and from high above something approached. I couldn’t exactly see it, or make out a form. Blue sparks or sparkles, but no illumination. not even a break in the darkness as it rushed at high speed towards me. I could see it but not. The impression was of chaotic and angry, and maybe beautiful like a fairy or something but also no real form. It came at me seeming so huge as I huddled. You! You ruined my Session! Little troll! I was lifted like a mouse on a board up into the air. EEEK! My flowers! you crushed my flowers! Your RUINED EVERYTHING! I looked down over twittering whiskers and I could see, in the alcove where the door had been, some white tulips and red ones. My butt had flattened the white ones. it was a bouquet laid out...no they were single flowers left as offerings? like at a tomb? At a memorial pilgrimage site. You Monster! You vile little vermin! I was dropped back down and the angry swirling non form had two very angry sharp female anime eyes peering at me like daggers. I will kill you! I will destroy you! this will be the last move for you, Karaoke-MA blast! like a bad cartoon vocalized kung foo move. EEEEEk! said I, the little mouse!
But the story paused, and the narrator put down the book, and spoke into the screen. Sitting in a high-backed chair like on an old masterpiece theatre. "But this was not the end of our hero, for when he removed the thorn from the lions paw, a whish was granted by the grateful king. The little mouse had forgotten, that in the pocket of his out of date cargo pants, he held the cedar box (Aslan?) had given him in gratitude. So even as Pretty Princess Goddess Sparkle Bright angel fire the 31/2.2227.4 the second Reached out to blast the frightened little mouse for ruining her recording party, the box rose out of the little mouse’s pocket. From it a single Star rose, a single wish! the wish of the king to protect his little benefactor, the humble mouse. that whish rose like the north star, and knew what it must do. In an instant the sparkle princesses anger and hate turned to love and affection, for as we all know, such switches and changes are a normal sort of magic. With this the image focused back on the ball of sparks whose eyes went from fierce to wide and be smitten. Oh your such a good little mouse! I was no longer a mouse, and a mouth and lips went down to awkwardly smooch my own. And your mouth tastes of stale cigarettes and coffee...and tooth decay! Its so yummy! In the voice of the little mouse, out the free corner rof my mouth a long and forlorn Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! rang out into the fading scene.
And the narrator continued. The image became of an oil painting of the city, a cartoon like one like an illustration from a children’s book like the polar express painted by Monet. A living animated picture of a comet putting off blue sparks slowly flying over the night sky under the moon, with the north star or a star shining brightly like a diamond above it all. "And so the fairy pretty princess took the little mouse to her flying pink cottage in the sky, and for a week and a day held him as her one true love. But, as immortal fairy pretty princesses are prone to do, her fixation wandered to different things, and the little mouse again a man, found himself sitting on the curb.
I was sitting on the sidewalk, around 7pm with the sun just having gone down and the last faint light being replaced by the stars of a warm summers night. Shoppers and couples were strolling past, looking down at me as they went to have dinner or take in a show. I was next to a terracotta fountain, on the closed shopping street full of restaurants and shops by the mission in like space. I felt kind of...grungy. I was covered in blue sparkles like glitter, or like the sugar crumbs from a decorated sugar cookie. the little sugar crystals. I rubbed my mouth and I breathed in a bunch. licked my lip and a bunch went down my throught, tasted like sugar. was messy. So I stood up and started brushing myself, blue sparkles falling to the ground, and into the fountain. I cupped my hand and watched glitter fall into he fountain, and got a handful of water to splash and rub my face. What the heck just happened...was I? Bad touch? sprinkled with spices? a mouse? Kung foo? I was very befuddled and slightly...amused.
Before I had a chance to move or walked way or do anything A voice approached me from behind.
"what’s up my shizzy motha brother from another mother! What’s up!" What now I thought. I turned to see a large black guy in his mid twenties hands up in he air fingers curved saying What’s up man! Uhhh...hello. You just got dropped of from your ride...I saw, I can see, im special like that. I see you just rode the pretty princess express of loooove! Hell ya bro! (I did before too hehe). that was ahh...very repugnant. oh ****. I really needed to wash up now. Maybe a nice battery acid bath would do the trick. Spike melting at the end of the gremlins seemed clean enough. But rerun or the fat kid from good burger kept on talking. Forget the water bro, you need some brews! come with me meet your new crew! Ahh...sure. I guess. Dude...where is my point of focus origin. Very confused. He led me by his arm on my shoulder, though the crowd. Coming through. New zoo review! Friends and family too what what. Yea biatches MOOOOOVE. He led me with an arm around my shoulder to a casual dining restaurant. The outside patio area by the street. "pull up a seat bro! and I slid in a booth and he sat next to me. "Yo let me introduce you to my boys, the rough riders! (All three gave the impression of frat boys just out of college who didn’t want to grow up) An in unison hell yea! from the man and the two guys on the other side of the booth ended in a group high five. Yo man you hungry, eat! and pushed d plate of appetizers towards me. I took a cheese stick or twice baked potato that looked old and was cold it was kind of foul in my mouth. Yo man you one of us....order a drink. Don’t worry about money, rough riderz special people don’t got to pay for ****! all three said **** in unison with another over the table high five. Well ok. Other patrons in the patio were staring and complaining about the noise. Some were asking why they get free drinks and food. A couple of waitresses held menus across their chests and gave disgusted looks. I listened to one tell a middle aged gentlemen. "Oh no they get to be loud and act like fools and not pay. They don’t tip, they don’t have a dime between them. The boss says to give them what they want because they are "Special" boys." besides, we just give them what people send back and watery drinks. hehe. She said her voice dripping disgust and sarcasm...and a bit of envy.
The fat guy was talking to me again. "As soon as I saw you sitting there I knew you were one of us bro. He then pointed to some sparkle I still had on my shirt. The dust don’t lie! The other two guys chimed again in unison on that. One of them said as an aside. "I have a piece of sparkle too". But they were the big guys flunkies. I noticed his shirt had a small amount of the sparkle on it I hadn’t noticed before. An old couple came up to us and asked, we are sorry, and we don’t mean to be rude, but HOW exactly are you gentleman special? How does one get free food and drink? This time I felt in the groove of the Hench guys. All three of us blurted out in over loud voices. ITs a black THANG! Hell yea! They were not black, nor was I. the old couple looked miffed and like they smelled a rotten egg, and walked off. The big guy was hiding his face at that. He was black. At the next booth over, Spike lee, Malcolm X and Lois faricon were eating banana cream pie. They had all stopped and were glaring, trying to decide if they were offended or not. finally they all chuckled shook their heads and went back to their creamy pies. The big guy was still hiding his face, and whispered in a small voice "Now those guys are going to want to kick my ass even more" to himself. Well im sitting there getting abit more comfortable, and starting to feel hungry. I reach for a cheese stick and bite into it, Not even being bothered it was cold, and old and greasy. Woe hold up bro! One of them had snatched the half eaten cheese stick right out of my hand. Hey bro, your special is wearing off! I looked at the table and bits of glitter had been falling off, now I barely had any left on me. The big guy said tisk tisk, that’s what happens, it wears off hah! I looked a this shirt he still had all his, which were now more then mine. I said how come you still...? I didn’t get tot finish between all three of the buffoons said "SPRAY STARTCH!" in unison, and re-starched the bosses shirt. I could see the boss flicking bits of fairy sparkle he had got from my shoulder, where I sat back on the booth and adding them to his shirt. Squirt squirt and a mist of stinky starch to hold it. But I asked, how about your other shirts, what about laundry? They all started laughing and he said "Maaaan, bro, I haven’t CHANGED this shirt in 40 years!" "Wash my shirt, they all laughed like I as the most stupid dumbass ever. I mumbled something like, you also haven’t grown up or gotten older in 40 years to myself. or I thought it. He heard it somehow. What? What? tisk tisk brosiki. Go find your special and we will starch your shirt too.
He led me to the fountain where he found me, and I looked and could see sparkles like flecks of gold in a stream. Now I needed to find them to wear. So I reached into my pocket and found a 3x5 card I had written some notes on at some point. From that week and a day? I didn’t even look I put it into the water to scoop s many sparkle onto it as I could. As I worked, a small crowd gathered around. What’s that man doing? Looks like a fool! is he stealing change? A group of poindexter scientists got excite pointing at what seemed to be sparkles on my card marveling. What is that? why can we only see them on the card? debating optical illusions and nuclear particles. As the professors would poke at the particles they would wash off. I was getting annoyed, and wet, squatting in the fountain. A larger and larger crowd was gathering. the frat rowdy boyz had left. I looked up to s ee them pulling way in a convertible, which on closer inspection was old and beat up. Dang, those guys got one of those 100$ cars already! Latter broski they laughed as they sped away. I felt a cardboard gas station drink cup bounce off my head as they sped away laughing. I crouched there not thinking about the stupid sparkles. I saw how as I was in the fountain they had gone with a little broom and dustpan and gathered all the sparkles I had shed and taken off. That fool didn’t know jack about the pretty fairy princess. he just stole the dust he could find, the magic, for someone. Not that knowing was anything to be proud about. well damn. The crowd was gathering, and police were starting to come over. I left the pond, and the card, in the water. I looked at it one last time. Instead of notes it was maybe the joker from a deck of cards or the fool card. Felt about right. With as much dignity as I could muster, I left the fountain, shook my arms and legs dry, and remembered my family in the office my trying to get back. So I picked a set of doors that looked right and walked in.
It was the same theatre. but now instead of dark impression of form, it was a real stadium theatre. A sad looking banner hanging from the ceiling was welcoming the 20th annual pretty glitter princess fan club to their annual convention. I looked around and saw lots of women in heir 40's and their daughters, dressed up for a really sad version of gencon in fairy princess outfits. Or mostly their daughters who they made do it so they could be cute through them. I asked "oh man why me?" and looked around. I saw no other way out, the door that had disappeared, just the decorative alcove now full of heart balloons. So I sat to wait see what happened. Maybe fairy princess would come back and I could say hello and ask about the door? maybe I could get some sprinkles...nah...just the door. as I sat trying to be invisible the small crowd got more and more disgusted by my presence. Who is that creepy man mommy? Moms saying why is It in here? I didn’t notice any daddies, nor did I imagine there were many happily married or employed mothers in the room. Or fitness fanatics for that matter. Snarky! So a space cleared around me of catty nasty glares and comments. I willed myself small and still but apparently to no effect. I was wondering when the show would start so I could get some answers or at least catch a doorway opening. then through the theatre doors strode the tallest, fattest, meanest looking women one could ever imagine.
she had three snot nosed daughters with her. One of them pointed and screamed Mommy! that nasty homeless man is in your seat! I followed her pointing finger and lifted my own, and pointed at myself. gulp. She screamed no he’s fucking not! and started tearing up seats charging like a rhino to get me. Be a mouse be a mouse! I thought, but to no avail. I guess that only works in the darkness below reality or wherever that theatre aspect lies. Maybe the far side of the screen. ****! She started pummeling my head and scratching with cheap nail claws. She too smelled, but not of sausage and cheese, but of TV dinners and taco bell. when she stopped satisfied I saw my head swell up like a bobble head doll, three times normal size. owe! man. I don’t know how long that beating lasted. next thing I knew their were police in the building and people pointing at me. that leader of the fan club was gone. I guess no special showing of the pretty princess musical film that day. I saw the officer beckon to me so I came to give my report. I tried to speak but I lisped through swollen lips in a creaky high pitched, stereotype Japanese or Chinese accent (Due to injuries) Of course the officer was Asian, and spoke in a normal unaccented voice. So I started to tell the story I rwas rshitting I rrrchair arrrnd......he said wait. one moment. So you were shitting in your hair. Nrrrrow! I rrrwwwas rrritting rrrin rrrrthe rrrrchair and... one second. I pulled half of a lee press on nail that was lodge din my swollen lip out and tried again. The officer looked annoyed and said he didn’t find my Asian stereotyping funny, he was born here and had a college degree thank you very much Mr. Dangerfield. I said rrrroooo rrrrnnnooo its....
I said ARRRRRHHH frrrruck rrrrit! and went out the front theatre door frustrated and annoyed. When I passed through the doorway my head and clothes were back to normal. No bits of backroom hair extenders or press on nails embedded in my face. wheeew! no sparkles on my clothes. Back to normalish. I saw the sun had gone down a bit since I went in with my parents. I looked across the parking lot and saw my parents and sister coming looking slightly relieved and annoyed. I smiled and waved and walked towards them. My sister asked Andrew where did you go? We waited a bit for you inside then decided to wait in the car for you. Its been like more then half an hour since you left. I looked around yea it had been only that long. the theatre front was gone restaurants and fountains. just a dreary normal the way it is irl street by that building. As we started walking my parents were talking about needing to stop at the store to buy dinner getting home in time to feed the dogs etc. what a relief! So I smiled a bit and remembered the flyer from the office about the 100$ cars. I took it out of my pocket and showed my sister saying "did you know since we are poor we can get a car that works for cheap? she said let me see this...she said heh no its a scam. If you are referred by a charity you can. Everyone else pays 5 thousand or more total in insanely high monthly payments for a 2o year old beater worth no more then thousand dollars. anyway, you don’t qualify as poor enough anyway. heh.
I stopped walking and crumpled up the cheap mimogrammed flyer. All I remember saying was "Well ****"
As I woke I passed the narrators starting again he was talking about this concludes the adventures of xxxxxxxx kikikikikikiki dddddddddd in eeeeeee mmmmmmmmm eeeeeeeee from the book ddddddddd lllllllllllddddddd by wwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeefccccccc tune in next evening and god bless. real faint. I didn’t hear any of the names or tittles I wasn’t able to make sense of them or wasn’t supposed toknow them. Also, in the space between leaving and waking, I had started laughing very loud into my pillow. as I woke I was saying oh man and laughing out loud. My neck felt like somebody had tried to snap it, and my face was partially numb my lip had been caught on a tooth etc I felt as bad as if it had all just happened for a few minutes. At least I was laughing
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 10-31-2011
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPj4yudCdMY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5PnDcjtYGzI
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Nagual LoneWolf - 10-31-2011
Amazing dreaming and from a ap that is far different than others who have posted here, your dream experiences and awake experiences are truly unique Senear.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 10-31-2011
since i'm banned many places at yuku, i guess i got lucky was able to post here.
Now for what it is worth, this is just a general heads up for all who post at
Sustained Reaction. The guy know as Tom is really a guy called Wen.
He is editing stuff now like a mad man. Just wanted all those who do post
at that site to know what the score is. I recommend that no one post anything
at that place anymore. It is fixed. So what is the point if you have a editor
who decides what goes in and what goes out? This is just a general heads up
for all.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Genardo Sacateca - 10-31-2011
What a friggin trip. Got your PMs energylover and responded
No wonder Tom has been so sensitive when people ask about Senor Wens.
Aquaman PMed me that he was banned for asking about Senor's actual
gender. So was I!
On Halloween Senor Wenceslao has been unmasked!
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-01-2011
energylover wrote
ince i'm banned many places at yuku, i guess i got lucky was able to post here.Now for what it is worth, this is just a general heads up for all who post at
Sustained Reaction. The guy know as Tom is really a guy called Wen.
He is editing stuff now like a mad man. Just wanted all those who do post
at that site to know what the score is. I recommend that no one post anything
at that place anymore. It is fixed. So what is the point if you have a editor
who decides what goes in and what goes out? This is just a general heads up
for all. I'm confused. How is this relevant to senear's dreams? Can someone explain the connection, please?
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-01-2011
The first section I remember was me simply taking my mom to an appointment. It was a busy street on a sunny day, near some newish strip malls. there were flowers and palm trees in the center divider of the road and it was well landscaped. Traffic slowed to a near halt backed up on multiple lights and cross traffic. the roads were jam packed for some reason and not moving fast. It was very quiet no road noises or honking horns. Finally we ground to a halt and i passed the time glancing at the flowers and the trees in the center divider, and looking up at the clear blue mid afternoon sky. At some point my mom said this is close enough, and exited the car. she walked around the front and into the center divider garden strip, before I thought to stop her. Cars weren’t moving and she was headed towards an office type building. After she left I got a bit worried about the distance her walking in the heat, and willed the traffic to speed up, and prepared to make a u turn to intersect where she got out and find her. But a voice or presence implied that it was futile in the dream context, that was a quick way to wake back up more or less. I also got the impression i should keep driving until i got where I might want to go. So i did...at the point i would have made a u-turn, there was an entrance to another strip mall type area. In the corner by the street there was some sort of restaurant like outback or chills, and i knew that’s where i needed to go...for a review of some test results with the group, outside the school environment. casual like. So i parked and went into the building and joined the others who were already seated at two large tables, having sodas and talking about the classes as they waited for the food that was coming. It was ordered for them. hehe.
After a bit and a few sips of watery soda, the "teacher" pulled test result and analysis out of a leather Euro style briefcase/bag. The first test she took out was for a girl at another table, she had scored brilliantly well, and it was announced due tot he results she also got some gift cards for free meals. I looked at her she was a Latin (Mexico/Central American) immigrant or native American….indigenous people lineage. She was real curvy and beautiful the flush of maidenhood or whatever stage of the three phase modality (maiden mother crone) sort of way it seems is the norm in less eating at chilies places, or stated in a less ugly fashion, more in tune with natures rhythms. Fertile? lol. That wasn’t my primary focus, i was listening to the accent and feeling the energy as well, it was just one part of it and an instant impression. she seemed nice and "innocent" not sharp edged...not cynical. Then the professor, who was an older Harvard faculty ivory tower type, but not mean exactly, handed out the results to a few other people who did well. Then she turned to the rest of us, i was bored as well and curious as to how well i did or did not do. To the rest she said "and the rest of your barely got a phrase or two, a few lines right" Not that they failed, that was the analysis. And she stared at me and came to stand next to me. She asked me why i did not ever learn to speak Spanish, given it was the language on the accent in my time and space. So i honestly answered why should i? I speak the tongue i was born speaking. Many of my family do but i do not. If i needed to learn it to speak to family that lived with me i would, out of respect and to make their lives easier, but i do not need to do so, and as such, i have a hard enough time processing via English. It is my opinion that learning another tongue to think in at this point would only muddle me, and burn scant energy that I am needing to comprehend through an English centric mind. Some of the thing is said very well could have sounded been ugly, racist or nativist, so i had to fully explain my inclination honestly in that way. The teacher neither said good or bad, and simply accepted the answer with an expression that denoted being deep in thought, analysis things via that context i guess. I lost cohesion or recall. I maintained enough to observe that it was because i was no longer running on a level more or less equivalent with my waking self...all structure was dissolved out. my point of view was still similar to me here, and that point of view has no capacity to interpret what was being said or perceived...to it, me, it was one great white void full of energy and vague shapes. Trying to explain that as such, i transitioned into another more or less me view, but the world was different.
Gone was everything. I sat at the end of a small wooden platform. Across from me, on the other end was the same energy type as the girl from the test scene. I could not tell, and did not look to see, if she was clothed or nude. My impression as in-between, wrapped in moonlight Goss or vapor. Same feeling as the restaurant but more so. I knew lots of things from the void, or at once. This was now my "wife" although that was not exactly what it means. It was more a metaphor, of how the sun chases the moon, that felt right. all of this was without thought just known. neither of us spoke or paid “attention” to the other. I saw i was on a railroad handcart, the ones with the pump in the middle. One moment there was a kind of pump i was working, another moment when i was resting their was a big sailboat sail. and sometimes nothing at all, when i wasn’t paying attention. It was just after twilight early dark, and we were moving quickly across a straight railing, in the far distance somehow i could see the curves were not curves in the rails, but the curvature of the planet. It was completely silent, the ground that rushed by was sparsely vegetated. the soil was extra black, like the richest loam or volcanic soil. It was neither cold nor hot. I was focused on completing the trip, although there was no real feeling of an end or destination. An eternity and an instant passed like that.
Then up ahead, i could see where the rails had been bent, warped. A large castle like a cave formation and somehow even more black and volcanic looking had bent the rails, without breaking them, around its base as it had rose. Alternatively, it was a biker bar and the rails were a dusty desert road that made a half loop around the shabby gang base. So there were both unexplainable things near it, and when i looked again, choppers and Harleys. I knew we were in some trouble. It was waiting for us, or rather her, to pass. I don’t know what happened. I felt the malice rising, like a shadow hawk from the very ground. I also saw bikers getting on the bikes al la “mad max” and hollering moving towards us. I don’t know what happened next, i had no capacity to record or perceive, or I don’t retain it outside of that context, as the hand cart, on a fixed track , went right into he open mouth of doom. Its like with the mind of the teacher, or other dreams, where i have no point of reference anymore, not one a human mind, my simulated mind, that i carry with me here can perceive. Almost instantly, but not, after things I cant explain, i found myself clinging to the side of a steep foothill, like i had been blown through the air and left there. thousands of feet up on the side of a dry mountain. I vaguely could see the line of the tracks, or rim of the world, beyond, and the fortress of black or base swirling and twirling like a cloud of thick dark smoke. It was even later now, but i wasn’t sure it was the same evening, or if the sun ever rose in that place.
I had no panic, or worry even for the being not here that was with me on the handcart. Or anger, or pain. I looked around at my impossible situation, no way to move up or down, and instinctively began burrowing, not into the stone and dirt, but into the underlying stone and dirt, the framework of the things. And there, no effort at all it was. Like those chairs that are whickered with he thick tough cardboard material, like those, not metal or plastic, like wood pressed, or paper, right under the surface, if one knew how to look. And seeing everything and everybody, on that sort of woven frame that underpinned the stone and rock and sky. i noticed it but a moment, and went through it, or into it, the strands were also like connectors between mother boards on a pc, or veins, or long bits of old time punch card computer programs. and also like none of those, but that shows this “me” how to see it and frame it. I don’t remember how i burrowed past it, or if i did, or if i melted and streamed along it, but i did something. Because again i was in another place. Although place isn’t the right word for it. It was, to use and impression, the other side of a computer screen. where the circuits meet to form pictures. but also, it was the spiritual reality equivalent. It was flat somehow. And there, still and silent because he wasn’t being spoken too, was the "king" or "god" or "spirit of the earth". The general, the ruler. But that’s not what those things really are. It was, he was, part of the overall system. Not a construct, but also not alive...no, not self willed. But not unwilled. Not without spirit, but not a spirit like a person exactly. Still, behind the screen, because nobody was seeking him. I quickly slid his default face out of the picture and inserted my own. when i did so, the scene stopped being like a paper cut out and a 3 dimensional presence, mass formed. i removed a part of myself and placed them in the image, I took allot of time to get it right, so I didn’t overwrite any of what was there, and could leave it quickly…pull out without leaving any bits of myself behind. Having done that, in that space like and not like a piece of paper or flat mirror, I initiated contact. With the priests, or generals, or kings, all of those like unlike the bar/castle at once. They looked confused when they came to look into the screen, because of course they aren’t summoned, they summon the god or king when they need something, and it obliges within the confines of its nature. which is that entire world, that it guards and maintains. I quickly spoke of the moon queen/godess now, and the villains. Looking to simply remove their focus from existence, or move him away. those things were very complex, wads of authorizations, calibration to find a being etc. which is how its usually done, with no urgency. I rubbed my flat not flat paper image on a screen face and said no. Just destroy him. Force, force in context, no time for doing it the right way. And they were the generals priests surprised but compliant, they didn’t do things that way either. quickly from side rooms I could see through the screen, out came rockets, cruise missiles, and at the same time spiritual and symbolic equivalents, which were and were not dangerous or weapons just depended on what one choose or could perceive. Good enough I said, good enough. and then I bolted with the speed I had prepared for out of that paper god space, king space, layer of the mesh underlying the world, and went directly too the villains lair. I knew some thing about that god, there was no permanent resident? As needed beings went into, those that could, into that form, that layer, and borrowed the authority. the rest of the time the authority, without will, maintained things, listened to prayers, responded to other dully authorized beings, but no being held that chair, throne, the throne being an idea simply was without control. Not empty but not willed.
So I, as me, was back inside the villains lair/biker bar. I saw the villains had laid out score of rockets, bombs, improvised. They had wicks like firecrackers, not self launched motors. like what hamas shoots into Israel. the same as the ones I had ordered out, at their root and intent. rockets, explosives, but fashioned from the bits in the world around, not manufactured with artistry. more jury rigged. less potent. But still deadly, more then was meant to exist in the hands of self willed beings. like taking gods power and copying it, in a small way, crudely. And somehow profane. And finally I saw the one who had taken the moon maiden somehow. He was tall, and in spiky armor in the biker phase. Criminal/outlaw/Dark Renegade I could label. I couldn’t see the other, couldn’t shift it. I new it, I felt it, but human mind. Or even one close enough for government work, could not perceive it, so he stayed fixed, all of them, the bikers folk, now were fixed so I could understand what they were doing. I followed were they were looking, and a tall white spire, like a melted ivory tusk growing from the ground or stalagmite with a thick base rose up like a dirty bone, ribcage, from the ground some way aways. I saw the full moon, almost at midnight position. and there, so far yet clear, was the moon maiden. still couldn’t tell if clothed or not. but bound. arms and legs, around the middle, lashed and barely moving, to the top of the white finger/bone/spire structure. In a posture that hinted at the crucifixion. and now the leader spoke. “She has suffered long enough, it is time.” and one of the underlings took a candle holder like from a church mass, to light the candles, (weapon wicks) and began lighting the bunches of fuses. All the bombs, rockets, were aimed at the moon maiden. the villain continued to speak. "Soon they will know that I am the one that was meant to be, THEY are the accidents, I AM, and WAS the one that was supposed to be. Will be. I AM. There is no GOD. (which ironically, in a way, was true there, given my previous actions/discovery but also not true. So the wicks were lit. and the being gleamed with luminous malice in triumph. None of them could see me as usual, I don’t think they did before on the handcart either. They thought the moon maiden traveled alone. A bit about of her that I perceived. The figure in every Fairy tail, where the warrior lusts and kills his brother to posses the fairest maiden, who is fair because she does nothing to bring it on, is simply desired as the most pure or special that was like her. The idea of fertility and gentle grace, the most positive identification of womanhood, she was of that too. Innocence and maidenhood, and motherhood, all those cheesy ass things, were embodied in that being. I had a non specific glimpse in the ways that one would whish to ravish her, because he could not have her, but abuse and degrade for the mastery, and now he was going to kill her. Typical psycho villain stuff. anger and lust and pride and desire and cruelty and control. As the wicks began to burn the henchperson who lit the wicks stepped back. the villain extended on a pedestal over the weapons to savor their launch and see the maiden obliterated. This was both rising in the air above and standing on a cherry picker in the context of the bar. On cue, and at the moment before he would have his victory the weapons I had brought out struck. they struck directly, honed in on, the crude versions of themselves the villain had. It was instant and a struggle of legend and duration.
Explosion after explosion, all the force ripping up to consume the anti god. the willful not god. as opposed to the simply existing real one. He was annihilated in an instant. But for all of that, the force stayed contained. so the villains in the same room were simply stunned. im not sure they could see what had just happened. one moment all the power was gone, and the one they followed. Just stunned.
After a few moments, they sagged in defeat and even relief, and began filling out of the now dead fortress/bar. some reluctantly, some like people waking from a bad dream and finding it was morning. I observed each in turn. how and why, the anger, the lust and desire and feeling small that led them to come this far. Those were the men. but the women...it was not something I had seen really before. Each one of them, they wanted to be the moon goddess. in a way. wanted to be loved, desired. the moon goddess didn’t see that, or provoke that, but they wanted men fighting for them, they wanted to be wanted. Like those villains wanted to posses. so they had them, degraded and lusted in and on them, because they (the men ((fallen) )wished to own and control) wanted the ideal goddess. and the women let them, enjoyed it, the fights and violence, because it made them special, as they imagined that moon maiden must be. as they perceived her being, from their unhappy and desire to be sought after. To be, the I am thing. lots of way more complicated things but that’s enough to explain. As I did in the restaurant, I glanced at them all as they left. unlike that person and latter moon maiden, a few felt and responded to the being looked at. I’m sure they would have smiled if they weren’t all dressed in bad biker bondage weirdo gear, or alternatively cloaked in thick shadows and rotting flesh. They wanted me to notice, to think, to desire. not like temptresses, because they wanted to be validated by being seen, which was like the rest of them, the villains, it was a different way, It had gone to far from normal and universal to an extreme that led to that place, distorting the flow of the world. I simply watched, and looked on, and they too moved faster and left. The last part was me in the empty fortress thinking. about the king god, about my stepping in for awhile to do this. about what the villain said (who sounded like Michael Dorn...worf from Star trek lol) about what and who they were and why not thinking it was all at once. The one thing I didn’t do was look back at the maiden I had "saved" nor did I wonder how to get her down. and that to was as it should be. (Edit: the task of saving her from her captivity was a hero to comes job. Part of the story, not my part, this was my part…that is/was An adventure for another) She saw me no more then I saw her. immune. cancel out. in speaking. that archetype is the spark for so many wrongs by the wrong, without being anything but what she is neither provoking nor noticing it. And also the inspiration for art and beauty, and gentle acceptance of times seasons. I wondered what opposite cancelling out immune not noticing counterpart to that I was to be called part of a pair, married, bound, but not much. I couldn’t see it. Because both of us. that maiden. me, and the very god, was not entirely self aware. aware, but not...part of things? im still a bit befuddled by it. that was it then I woke and drank some coffee. lol the end.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-01-2011
Nagual LoneWolf wrote:Amazing dreaming and from a ap that is far different than others who have posted here, your dream experiences and awake experiences are truly unique Senear.
Thanks Ill keep throwing them out there...well the ones that are more universal for as long as i find them in my sent messages folder lol. Im kinda lazy so most if i mention them to anyone at all will be three of four sentances, a few more i make a paragraph or two. The ones i actually do some degree of justice are pretty rare. Im pretty lazy about it. Most things dont demand that much attention anyway. these did. however. hehe.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-01-2011
just means that the fox took over the hen house.
Wen is probably a girl and Tom is probably a guy.
Some kind of sneaky team effort to control
Sustained Reaction. Big deal, who cares?
Why not be upfront and be who you are?
Who are you hiding from? There is NO one
to hide from.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-01-2011
Senear wrote:Oh that was all one dream heh. New orleans, that swamp/swamps, have come up again and again since then, but not in the past few years. That line, or new orleans at least ended...the line of dreams, a week or sobefore the quake in haiti with a dream about there (haiti) It could be a link because of ancestor i found from those places. That was one line of further development as was stone tablet.
I dreamed in New Orleans region about a month ago, it was an intense dream and that area felt so alive,...the swamps and atmosphere of it. I was an undercover detective on the trail of a voodoo priest and priestess...a couple that worked together at night. Came upon an old witch instead and had to trick her or else she would murder me. I really enjoyed this dream, one of my best of recent...like that area New Orleans area a lot.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - BarefootInTheSand - 11-01-2011
energylover wrote
ince i'm banned many places at yuku, i guess i got lucky was able to post here.Now for what it is worth, this is just a general heads up for all who post at
Sustained Reaction. The guy know as Tom is really a guy called Wen.
He is editing stuff now like a mad man. Just wanted all those who do post
at that site to know what the score is. I recommend that no one post anything
at that place anymore. It is fixed. So what is the point if you have a editor
who decides what goes in and what goes out? This is just a general heads up
for all.
Thanks EL...much appreciated.
Apologizing for thread hack, however just need to ask this of EL, do you think he could also be TBD as they seem to share the same protecive feelings for Amy Wallace?
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-01-2011
barefoot said: Apologizing for thread hack, however just need to ask this of EL, do you think he could also be TBD as they seem to share the same protecive feelings for Amy Wallace?
No, that is not him. I know who TBD is.
Whoever is banning people there is going nuts.
I can't quite tell if it is the person know as "Tom"
or the person know as "Wen". They may be the
same person or operating in a team, i don't know.
But whatever is happening is total bull$hit. I recommend
that everyone boycott that site and not post anything there
until those two people quit or are fired. They can kiss my
big honky a$$. As far as Amy Wallace goes dude, you have
to let that go, you are barking up the wrong tree there. I'm not
going to get in to it with you, but you have missed the boat with her.
Everything that was written in that book is as it happened. It was/is
indeed a cult. And cults can also kiss my big fat honky ass too.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-01-2011
yea Raven her in the swamp. So im not the only one that has met her. Usually she can be avoided the area of the swamp in the dream(s) she happens to be in is extra stagnant and creepy heh. After awhile i sorta assumed she was a gaurdian or gatekeeper of some sort...the fatal kind. Although, im not sure my saying it as such is entirely fair. The other two... criminals. Its usually an error to take what others say as some sort of comfirmation of a subjective context....thats how religions get started (lol) but. did you catch them? One of my first, when i was just confused and weak in 2004? experiences with any of this was those two (or something like them flat out trying to kill me froma distance without any emotion like shooting a bull in a pen from a balcony. It wasnt directed at me origionally, it was my brother and people i didnt know shot in turn. they saw me show up and when they aimed at me i zigged and zagged and fled that place, with the urging of a presence...I would not have survived a shot in my current state. It was a modern take on a meso american temple or palace...in a swamp of cource. Something ancient and current)...they are still lurking about it seems. Ive run into them together and one at a time since then or so i thought they might be. My oerception, however may be in error. It was my perception that the female ws the main one and was much older then the male...that part of the pair might change over time be not the same guy one eon to the next. All three seemed "related" to me somehow, which in addition to giving that pairs dynamic a faulkneresque quality, was the root of the danger in my perception.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - BarefootInTheSand - 11-02-2011
energylover wrote:barefoot said: Apologizing for thread hack, however just need to ask this of EL, do you think he could also be TBD as they seem to share the same protecive feelings for Amy Wallace?
No, that is not him. I know who TBD is.
Whoever is banning people there is going nuts.
I can't quite tell if it is the person know as "Tom"
or the person know as "Wen". They may be the
same person or operating in a team, i don't know.
But whatever is happening is total bull$hit. I recommend
that everyone boycott that site and not post anything there
until those two people quit or are fired. They can kiss my
big honky a$$. As far as Amy Wallace goes dude, you have
to let that go, you are barking up the wrong tree there. I'm not
going to get in to it with you, but you have missed the boat with her.
Everything that was written in that book is as it happened. It was/is
indeed a cult. And cults can also kiss my big fat honky ass too.
Thanks again for the reply (again I apologize for the hack...hopefully my posts can be deleted out). I think it is Wen...I also think Wen is a chick. She seems to have an image in her mind of what SR is suppose to look like. Tom always seemed level headed (except the other day). Maybe husband and wife team? Maybe altering SR to be another cult buster site? Wen posted about the Rick Ross site and labeling all the people who wouldnt be allowed to post at RRs site.
I agree that the CC thing was a cult and I agree that CC was a turd. However, that is because what I saw with my own eyes...I didn't need a book to tell me that. I could also see by the direction his later books took the man was losing his marbels.
I appreciate your taking the time to come over and let everyone know...and for letting me know.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-02-2011
Senear wrote: yea Raven her in the swamp. So im not the only one that has met her. Usually she can be avoided the area of the swamp in the dream(s) she happens to be in is extra stagnant and creepy heh. After awhile i sorta assumed she was a gaurdian or gatekeeper of some sort...the fatal kind. Although, im not sure my saying it as such is entirely fair. The other two... criminals. Its usually an error to take what others say as some sort of comfirmation of a subjective context....thats how religions get started (lol) but. did you catch them? One of my first, when i was just confused and weak in 2004? experiences with any of this was those two (or something like them flat out trying to kill me froma distance without any emotion like shooting a bull in a pen from a balcony. It wasnt directed at me origionally, it was my brother and people i didnt know shot in turn. they saw me show up and when they aimed at me i zigged and zagged and fled that place, with the urging of a presence...I would not have survived a shot in my current state. It was a modern take on a meso american temple or palace...in a swamp of cource. Something ancient and current)...they are still lurking about it seems. Ive run into them together and one at a time since then or so i thought they might be. My oerception, however may be in error. It was my perception that the female ws the main one and was much older then the male...that part of the pair might change over time be not the same guy one eon to the next. All three seemed "related" to me somehow, which in addition to giving that pairs dynamic a faulkneresque quality, was the root of the danger in my perception.
The woman of the swamp...yeah she did sort of seem like a guardian of there in my dream too. When I saw her, I was on a hill, it was backyard of my house. She came in on a boat she paddled through the swamp. She was quite old, but not sure if that was actual age or ancient magic old...but old is the best way to describe her, and she was dangerous. So were the couple, they were younger and the woman in the couple seemed dominant. You asked did I catch them? No, I didn't. I was on stakeout for them, hiding in the swamp to spy on them, but the old woman approched me and I had to make up a story of what I was doing because I knew if she found out I was after the couple, she would try to kill me. She fell for my made up story, but dream pretty much ended after that. I remember I felt very capable in that dream, I felt I could/would eventually take that couple down. They were killing lots of people, and used dark magic and also disguises (masks and costumes) when out at night. They fooled lots of people in that area, and had a bigger group besides them two. But the seers in the area knew about them, and this couple had quite the formidable reputation...despised by many, but respected in the sense of their effectiveness. It felt to me like the local seers were my informants and told me things to help me catch the couple, and their bigger group. Also, it felt to me like that new Orleans area had two strong groups...dark sorcerers and light ones. They clashed but kept a balance. The light ones protected the regual population best they could. The regual population was like prey for the dark ones.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-02-2011
Yea. that pretty much nails my perception. Those two were my introduction to the area so to speak, and alott of "soul eater" concepts...in dreams anyway. The older witch figure...i dont know shes more like baba yaga in a way. Both camps, if you will, are her children and she protects the balance...my perceptions are fragmented but your sharing brings some focus. I have to go to the swamp often enough to achieve tasks is the RL involving...fate, future/outcomes. In a way the old one reminds me of the fates, but not as a weaver. I dont write those dreams and visions like these stories...these are like root mythologies and teaching and are presented as such in the dreams themselves. And they are sorta fun. Some are a bit more sly about it. Dreams that are less crafted and more real, i tend to not write down. Ive spoken tot he old one, and she ran her hand through my hair has caught me a few times. Its disconcerting to be in the grasp of one with inscoutable motives that may at any moment decide to be hostile. On the other hand i suspect, the first time and on a few others she helped me get away and become stronger...so its probably the balance thing in play. I myself have experienced that swamp as both a tomb and a womb, once in a mythological dream ill share here when i format it properly. Im not sure thsoe two are stopable, just scape them, anymore then birth can defeat death. then again, what do i know? not much so i might be completely wrong when it comes too meaning. I have to believe im always wrong, otherwise id stop learning.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-02-2011
This dream evolved from looking at maps in a before dream. I saw a cold area of the world, it more or less corresponded to the Baffin bay of Canada and out all those tundra islands, and stretched narrowing to Alaska. This was someone’s kingdom, or rather land to be cultivated. In part I traveled with/as the caretaker. A quiet and non presumptuous man. He knew he had a house to tend in those lands, but he kept putting it off. He was pursuing another, to learn, to see, to observe? This other at one point was burrowed under the sub artic forests of central Canada, and looked like a range of mountains and hills, this other was slowly burrowing for some reason. feasting on roots? On the perma frost? The caretaker/king gardener was unduly obsessed with watching that one. He was greater then he? different? a friend? an enemy? it wasn’t too clear.
In time seasons came and went, and the king always found a reason or was preoccupied and not in his land. Finally, in time, he visited his lands. These are the cold land of many dreams. sometimes near the artic circle, and yet not frozen. always in the 50's in the day, and wet, with overcast sky. A cool crispness maybe low 40's. lots of dew on brambles and thick leaves. High grass and herbs and deep green forests. Also not places where anyone has lived, where no cities have been built, no people who raise children. always near the sea, and in summer, the summer for those places. Winters would be nothing but snow and ice. And here, was this gardener/king’s home. It was a old grey stone manor type house from the 17'oos. In the gardens their were broad leaf trees and fountains, but it was still. No family had ever lived there The keeper had waited so long families had grown old, his family that were supposed too occupy the house.. In the center of the great room, there was a simple grey block of stone. From it sprang two clear spouts of water....it gave the impression of a small case m, but the center was overlapped also the center was a arch too. this water ran down the stone and into the ground in a pool around it, and was the source of all the warm and life for trees and grounds. But again, it was weak and not used much by then.
He came to the cold lands with his new wife. She seemed nice enough, not bad in any great way. But it wasn’t the wife he had when the place was created. that wife was more stout and cold like a stone. not as a personality, just a feeling of nature. the new wife was blonde and thin, more appropriate for lands of sun and wind, not clouds and fog and snow. she thought the palace was damp. There were old leaves inside, it looked never used and fallen into damp decay. So he sought to change it make it warmer for her as he set to clean it. This was a final transgression? Last straw? he just showed up and tried to change things for wrong reasons not allow the seeds that were planted to grow. He and she and I, if I were a separate person which I don’t know, are now in a court like a broad auditorium. Its not old stone and antique. Everything is metal and plastic ish but nicely done....the future. Court was in session as soon as they/we arrived. The prosecutor was a man, but also like two tapeworms that were born as a Siamese twin with feet. Still human ish but also like that being in a hood. (He reminded me of the nuns that lived in the planetary sea under the ice at the end of time. The blood on the water ones) The prosecutor walked down the isle with all the assembled beings, and started naming wrongs. The first, and only one I saw, was simple. The king had left his true wife waiting, in lands to warm, as he pursued the being under the ground. They had a daughter. The cold land wife grew old and died, while he pursued his thing. he never moved them to the house. Their daughter had grown old, and always waiting for her father, for the home promised, just out of reach. He had forgotten them, and now they were no longer reachable. But that daughter had grown obsessed with her father coming home, and was stuck like that forever? long time? She saw him, in the crowd, and smiled full of contentment that he was finally there. But he was quiet, he smiled back. because he had forgotten. that they waited in time. She looked dissimilar to the prosecutor spirit of the lands waiting for tending. There was more but that’s all I could hold I fade out.
Now the king was back where the manor was. but it was gone. It had been built for reasons that were no longer valid, for a family that had passed into time as he pursued the great mounds in the earth. There was an impression in the permafrost, and nothing more, where the great manor had stood. I asked him he said gone. the power it was created from has been withdrawn. I was there, and a few others. The sun wife iS THER, BUT NOT AS A BEING OF SUN AND LIGHT, JUST A NORMAL PERSON WHO HAD Forgotten. There were a few other mismatched people as well. The king was finally in the cold lands, but the house, the fountain was gone. So he said we must build before the winter comes. there was lots of sawing and hammering, rolling of logs, building a framework. We were making a small, squat, ugly building like you might find in Alaska...built on a platform no foundation because of permafrost...tar paper walls and wood burner chimney. I had great trouble fashioning the A frames to make the roof, getting angles to match. But the quiet king always knew how to do carpentry tricks so I made the basic frames he joined them made the angle cuts and we built the roof rapidly on the walls. We climbed down to the spot, the whole house was being built where the stone block and fountain of the withdrawn stone dwelling had stood. I asked where shall we get water? there was a grey sea some ways off, but no streams that flowed to it year round. He said dig. dig under the perma frost to the groundwater...200, 300 feet. Allot of work but he started that. The now no longer sun wife said, "I never really trusted the ^^, it could stop at any time". but the carpenter was quiet and did not respond. lost in thought as he always was now. We worked and worked to get those building done. winter was coming, quickly. like in hours. And it would be long and harsh, as the manor was now gone, which defined the seasons there, not as moderated in its fury. but after much toil, and before the night came, the clouds broke open to reveal a patch of sky like an eyes slit. From it poured warmth. not just moderated cold, but warm sun like 80 degrees, so warm and loving on chilled hands and faces. I guess we all laid down on the rejuvenated grasses and herbs near the front of the shack. For some time, absorbing the warmth, that was love, and also perhaps forgiveness. or love even after a curse or punishment or loss. I was the first to rouse from the grasses I saw the eye or clear space closing the warmth starting to decline in intensity.
I shook the arm of the carpenter who was king, and he slowly moved himself and found his chisel and hammer. Was the sun wife gone? I don not know. Now it seemed to be only the two of us maybe a third form who wasn’t ready to wake. I saw the carpenter smile, as he set out to finish preparing for the winter to come, to finally finish his contract and construction In that place. Even if in a not as great a form.
As I drew out of that place, in those lands, I was shown what became of his works. I saw first train tracks, long unused, that stretched up to where he worked from known places. there was a station, a train station, a Victorian style one. Painted and made, but it seemed never used, like the rail line. or only a few times. Here was a field, ploughed but fallow. There was the manor he finally built, a Victorian modest mansion but of wood not stone. Also empty. Here were some small cottages. there down a road paved with gravel, Was a small village of eight or nine buildings near the station. The lands were less cold, they were what they were when the original stone manor was graced to the builder by (god? Spirits?) The new structures held that function of the great stone manor. But it was also empty. the train tracks covered in dirt. no way to find it. No families ever raised there. I was told that was the only house ever completed in those lands, and it was never used. The builder I think was still there, asleep perhaps, maybe as a spirit. holding the things together. Perhaps for people to come. Perhaps for the wife who had died and daughter who had faded waiting for him to complete his works. Perhaps for the sun wife, or her descendents, when they had no other place to go. Or maybe as a penance. Be it empty and still, or full of life and growing, they were his lands, or he was theirs, and his duty was to be there. a duty that would be done.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-03-2011
Last time i dreamed of them raven i started flicking around youtube as i do, news stories, google for words i let rise into my mind. I suppose its like the modern equivalent of reading tea leaves. I right away got a hit for a song, by some artists that did another song that came up in a similar diffuse not paying attention search. Its not like literal its metaphoric and, as is usually the case, with a large degree of self reflective irony, but ill throw it out anyway.
http://www.youtube.com/wa...fDQA&feature=related
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-04-2011
Was listening to Krokus this week, night before Halloween. Did not come across this song at that time, but I had not listened to them in years and just had this sudden urge to hear them ...now that I view this one, the lady in the song resembles the lady from the couple in my dream. The guy not unlike this one either.
Equivalent of reading tea leaves with music...you have no idea how much I can relate to that, lol. I do this same thing...even have a thread dedicated to it. Called Ra King Roll..its in Ravenfield. It just helps me manifest the magical aspects of consciousness, I guess is what it mainly does.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Senear - 11-04-2011
thats cool ill have to check out your thread on it. Most people glaze up its like trying to explain why the McRib is epic to a foodie. Dealing with the look is lol and pointless. (I dont even like them very much lol) Most people think some lame south american flues or enya like stuff is the way spirit music is supposed to sound. Personally, such stylistic conceits and poserism made me want to ignore the whole subject untill it finally started bitting and chewing. So i bet your thread isnt full of john tesh.
A thread for some of my archived dreams. - Guest - 11-04-2011
Lol, no no no...John Tesh...never...not me (no offense John Tesh). You know, everyone has their tastes...I was born and raised during the classic rock and heavy metal decades...that suits me fine, then I branch off into other areas at times. I suppose if JohnTesh ever goes metal... Now that would be interesting!