08-30-2014, 12:00 AM
8/28-29/14 Ragnar, Flying, City in the Canyon, Departure.
Some things, it seems, in dreams, no matter how lucid, no matter how aware, and no matter how understood remain hidden, not guarded, or buried away, but hidden from explanation by virtue of the fact the concepts and understanding simply does not exist in a human mind. Some things bleed over in metaphor, and still others can be embodied in archetypes and stories, in symbolic actions and representations. Looking a this, I moved them into clusters, some more illuminated by the light of awareness, some more opaque; I could feel myself feeling into them, and I did not loose my awareness, but there was no return. Like radar waves not returning to the device. These I left as dark, and on the map, my awareness created, I took a quill pen with gold ink, and carefully, as a monk, on the margins in those areas, I wrote “Here Be Dragons”. I carefully put the quill away, in a small box, and re capped the inkwell with golden luminescent ink. I rolled the vellum map and put it into a box in my mind.
I then turned to more practical matters. The computers, in dreams, that are communication and access portals. I had a new one, properly configured to now. I now take out an ink pen, and carefully order another device for my brother. Finally, I look for an older, yet more powerful one, for my mother. I buy two computers, not for my own use. And carefully fill out the delivery instructions; when im done, they appear, and I test each one as I did the layers beyond the form of things. There are things I do not expect, particularly in the older one; but when i'm satisfied, I I lift each one and drop it for final delivery into a seam in dreaming. With this, the direct working tasks are done, and I feel now I must go out of the blank space, into the realm of more solidified energy; what we call dreaming.
I walk, leisurely, down long empty roads that seem to be leading towards a city. I walk along a bridge with a rail line on it, it crosses a concrete truss bridge, and goes into something like a tunnel. I am waling on the edge of a drainage control embankment, going towards the bridge. It reminds me of the Los Angles river, and cross the concrete lined Chanel, going into the tunnel, it seems to be the start of a gray, low-rise industrial area. It is a very long walk, but i'm not in a hurry. Near a fence, with a gate, overlooking the channel, I run into a strange man with a beard. He is thin, and weather beaten, about forty years old. He seems like a backpacker more then a homeless man. He notices me, and pauses, then decides my presence does not change anything. We exchange a few words. When he get sin the tunnel, he removes a long stick with knife on it, like a jury rigged spear.
A train is coming, loud, powerfully. Its coming from outside going into the tunnel. He let part of it pass, then, with his spear, he cuts some cords, some cargo on a flatbed car, a single package, falls loose. When the train passes, he stops to gather what he hunted. They are...small, compact, seemingly foam blocks. That fit into each other. But they are greatly compressed. Somehow, someway, I see that each can be expanded, under the correct circumstances, to build a large barricade. He places them, into their container that fell with them, they compress even more. He loads this into his huge backpack. He pays me no attention, he is on the cell phone with the builder, and I hear him say he will get paid 200$ for each of the 12 or so blocks, which he considers an OK days hunting. I ask the (dream) scout to lend me momentum (push) to catch the moving train. He agrees. This seems fair, because I bore witness to his hunt. He walks out, back the way he came, and jumps the fence into the riverbed, to make his delivery. Im now alone again, and I go the opposite way, into the city. I do this by merging into the train, there is space somehow, not riding in it, I get ahead of it, I bend my steps, and let it hit me, and I am then in its structure, as long as I hold it. Like bat claws, the talons tighten the grip, when the bat relaxes. I do something similar, which is no easy feat, with a train bearing down on me, but I do. And am swept forward as I relax. Bat like.
Im carried into the city, past the tunnel, I detach myself from being embedded in the train, and start walking again. I have a general sense of where I am going. I enter a large, sprawling complex of three story condo buildings, it is near the industrial area, but across another river, at the edges of it, there are tall embankments with fences blocking it off. I walk in the first cluster of buildings, into one of the many small courtyards with small trees, between the buildings. There is something like a large party, like a martygraw, or celebration, no costumes, but young and old people, perhaps a celebration around a sporting event, is the feeling. Individual homes are open, serving food and liquor, and people wander between them, there is much music. This is a familiar place, in many recent dreams, the place where we , my family, were moving too, but it did not feel permanent, a month to month rental. Many family members are here, my brother is here, somewhere, if I can find him. Which is not my main focus, I figure ill find it when I find it, I start walking, watching.
I instinctively gravitate tot he places were there are less loud people. Little side walkways, and places on the edge. Something, the THICKNESS of energy, has made me, first stumble, and then fall, face first, towards the grass covered ground in a narrow space. I put my hands out in-front of me, so I do not face plant. An amazing thing happens. Little lines of force, like a magnetic repulsion, keeps me from falling. I lean into it. My legs lift up. Im suspended three feet from the ground. I began pushing and pulling, learning how this works. It feels, and looks, as if im doing pushups. Soon, practicing, I have the trick. I find a way to put slightly more weight in one direction or another, and propel myself, slowly at first, and then with great speed up and down these isolated pathways at the edges.
I find a narrow pathway, were the unseen pets, cats and dogs, live. I look around alcoves, little secluded spots by trees. I see young people, and some old ones, awkwardly making out or making love in secluded “bowers”. Its strange, no one removes their clothes. I don’t look to much at that, give them space. I find a spot, by a dog and cat, and don’t move; I rotate, more and more, until, I spin to somewhere else. A dog is looking at me, knowingly, it is, I suspect, another scout.
As I propel myself, spinning, not moving, I shift into one of the “here be dragon” energies. I emerge, but not fully, in another side space. Here, is Ragnar. Ragnars sons, to be precise. Their mother is Freya. Fenir, the wolf, is at the “margins”. A great sea cliff, over a fjord. Small. The sons of Ragnar, and Freya, become small, like the foam blocks on the train. I propel myself up a steep cliff, climbing, with them riding me like a carriage. I stop, at a cliff platform, near the top. A strange stone and wood, Scandinavian temple. “upsala”. And a white tree. The get off my back, and I stand. This was not my adventure. It was for the sons of lothgar, going to the temple to seek Odin. I don’t have many details. And we do not speak, just a bit part in some legend. I then, fly back down, and re enter the housing complex, at the spot I left. Again by the embankment, over the concrete river. I now fly through the people, who are all very drunk. “halls of waiting” I think of it now. Where warriors feast waiting “something”. I move in another way, there are many traps, that divide the sections of revelers. I am able to bypass them all by flying like this. I understand true flight can not be done here, its too “low and heavy” but what im doing, repulsion of that heavy force, seems to work very well. The levels are like circles in circles, and each threshold I pass is in and of itself a “trap”. It seems I am lost, like a labyrinth, full of unaware drinkers. But, then I relax, like with the train. I find an open door, with people who recognize me, “uncles and family”. They have food. Toffy covered peanuts. I eat a few. Refreshed. When I find them, I have gone far enough in, I know. So I go back outside, slowly, drifting.
I don’t “need” to find my “room”. I am fine, I will survive, thrive even, outside. Sleeping, wandering. I don’t need a box. I don’t need to go or stay or leave, im always were I am, I own that moment; I am always home. With this relaxation, the next place I suddenly find, was the goal it seems. I find my nephew, and by extension, brother rand sister and mom etc. He, my nephew, presents me with the pen, not the quill, I had used earlier. I had lost it. He had used it, to draw, used all the ink, he thinks I will be mad. But I am not. All the looking for a new home, moving, and I feel, know, I speak, or perhaps he speaks these words to me. I write them down, with the pen with no ink. “Home is a place we are”. This seems a good time to wake. To write notes, so I do instantly. An hour or two has passed, its not even 2am yet. I write, and then go back to sleep directly. No false wakings
When im asleep again, im back in the apartment I found my nephew and brother in. My brother is now present. He got the computer I sent, I see it again. He, in turn, has purchased new xbox's and a ps4.
One of the xbox's the older one, he gives to me. I greatly appreciate the gesture, as its another portal device. I know I wont use it much, but it there if I want to. I find an old game, from a dream ten years ago, saved, the dream. Where i left it. Its so different then me now, but I look at it, but do not play. Its a dream, saved, paused, from long ago. How familiar, yet old and no longer ME it feels. I close the window in dreams. I step outside. I am on a porch, the outside has moved. Home was where we were you see, and where we were moved, even though we, always being were we are, did not. A name, fills in, in a space. “Tineateas” Not sure if its a name, or a space. Lines of force, on a superficial world map. They loop and loop, California, where i am was over the spot, that in another, another level...was the land of “gong”. I find my sister here. I show her that sort of flying, and how to do it some.
Tu Di Gong (also known as Tu Di, Tu Gong, Tudi Yeye and Dabo Gong), is a Chinese earth god worshipped by Chinese folk religion worshippers and Taoists. A more formal name for Tu Di Gong is Fude Zhengshen(福德正神), literally the "God of Fortunes and Virtues".[1][2]
In China, every village[citation needed] had a shrine to Tu Di Gong. It was this deity who was in charge of administering the affairs of a particular village. In traditional times, village concerns were primarily agricultural or weather-related. This god was not all-powerful, but was a modest heavenly bureaucrat to whom individual villagers could turn in times of drought or famine.[1]
A large statue of Tu Di Gong at the Hongludi Temple in Zhonghe District,Taiwan.
Today, he is still worshiped by many Chinese, with many housing small shrines with his image, commonly located under the main altar, or below the house door. Many worships make prayers to him for wealth and their well being. He is also traditionally worshiped before the burial of deceased persons to thank him for using his land to return their bodies to the earth.[1]
Commoners often called Tu Di Gong "Grandpa" (yeye), which reflects his close relationship to the common people.[1]
Tu Di Gong is portrayed as an elderly man with a long white beard, a black or gold hat and a red or yellow robe, which signifies his position as a bureaucrat. He carries a wooden staff in his right hand and a golden ingot on the left.[1]
The same man, as by the RV, a few nights before. I think of him as “the racist old man”. The “racist old man” softens. Now there is “tolerance” if not acceptance. Its not that hes racist, as such, its how I see it; a hierarchy of social classes, or power grades, some are not as high as others. Another strange word. “Biber ... Gong”. When the man softens, misty clouds form, in layers of the sky. Rain, that soaks, in the roof, layers separate, but it does not leak. A softening of the land, from the drought. I am in an area, of prototypical ranches, old barns, a rural area, enclosed, I feel, by cities. The man tells me, this land is protected, conserved, the golden fields, in the center of the weight of beings. I is very beautiful, like a memory, from my treasured perception.
It is time for me to move again, I am drawn to the university, for more “unfinished business”. Its not as heavy here, so conversely, its not as easy to propel myself like a dolphin swims. However, I verify I still can, but here, it is simply easier to walk. I check with professors, departments, I have, in dreaming, this advanced degree im never sure if I completed or not. Once again, I do not find out tonight. Others are coming. Are here. I send a notice, somehow, to meet in the luncheon area, for a meeting/breakfast. It will last all day. I find the person in charge of catering, and pay, and it is set up. The cooking begins. As they cook, I decide I need to share something of myself. Somehow I remove strops of bacon, and spend a long time cooking them, to a crispy perfection. I stack them geometrically, upwards, on a plate, and set this as the centerpiece. Soon people I know, some now, some before, some never in waking, come, about seventy it seems. We have our breakfast, and conversations, in the large room. Some leave. But we are not done. Oddly, I speak very little. The caterer man comes, and moves the food, and says we need to move to smaller, yet more stately, series of rooms. I question him. He says they need the big one for evening meal. I nod. I help move things. This feast is now, gone on through dinner. Some twenty are left. Now we begin eating the bacon. I sit at a side table, there are two woman, a very dark one, and a younger lighter skinned one.
There is a bit of space between us, we are spread out, no one next to the other, at a small table. It seems, everyone feels “leaderless” All these people were under the same tent, same job, in a way, as me. First there was the old boss, long ago, removed. Then their was the new boss. The new boss was removed it seemed, do to unnecessary, destructive cruelty for some inner reason. Now there was no boss, no organization, and people were confused. It seems the point of the breakfast, and the bacon, was for them to work it out. I speak carefully to the black lady and the younger one about the bosses. I am on the edge, just advising. We eat the meal. A large group of them start walking their way. I need to fly more, I need to go another. I leave the university, purposefully, relaxed, wandering again.
At the edge, I am pulled down, its heavy again, I need to switch modes. I see. Something strange. Some cheerleaders. A white van. A man gets out, with a gun, and shoots them, vengeance? Some sick thing? I don’t know the story, but I feel the bullets. I spread out to be mist. I engulf them all, before any die, and like the maps, I absorb them all into myself to sort latter, to heal, or to preserve. I was, intrigued on some level; what is this, to block my path, here, at the edge, why? The reaction is to absorb. When I do, im much larger, and I fly, like a cloud. Im following a road, out to the wilderness. I am going to meat those that left the luncheon, but going a different way they can not. Am I following a stream, in a gully, but it grows, its large. It is as if im following the Colorado river, in deep red rock canyon walls, through the four corners area. And im looking down, near and far, big and small, at the river. I see something that makes me stop. And peer. Deep in the canyon, a city, made up of tall futuristic buildings, about 20, tall spires. Around it a tall (small) concrete wall, circular. Reminds me of a space colony from some movie, but there is no dome over it. Another awareness comes to speak to me. Bald. I have the funny thought, if im flying like superman, this would be his friend/enemy lex luthor. On the ground. It snot those things, but that personality fits him. He asks me to enter the city, to unlock it. He too, he says, needs a place to leave his family, to be safe. I can store knowledge there, protected. I see a nuclear cooling tower. Well yes, in the blood of the place, is radioactivity, but its safe. Its power. I do not agree or not, I do not speak. I simply move on. What I notice in the river, are tinny silver fish. But are they tiny? They would be huge to see from so far, more like whales. I wonder again about perspective, for a moment, and move on, im almost to the meeting place.
Its a long strip of land, that is at the river. A second river joins the first here, so this spit of land dwindles until it is knife like plateau, between, at the point the Colorado meets another river. On the top are pinion pines and brush. The soil is sparse, and the rocks are red. Here is were we were to meet. And they are here. When they arrive, we open picnic lunches, and have another meal, finally, the rest of the bacon in eaten. I am so excited, anticipation. I rise in the air. I begin to spin. As I do, bits of many meta songs I here, they go into the spin, hotter, faster. I do this...not sure how long, until the music is gone from me. And I settle tot he ground. And look around. They are all gone. Hours or more had passed. Gone without a trace. But I look. Here are some shoes, there, a jacket. I stand on the cliff, looking at the river. I know the all just jumped, and left. From this spot. I am alone. But not lonely. I find a few scrawled maps, a note to me, to another, left, with rocks on them to keep the wind from blowing them. I gather these, and put them in myself. I feel...satisfaction. Like the job is done. Now I can wander. Somehow being the flaming twirling sun, opened...something. And they left. Like earlier, the sons of ragnar. I did what I do, and now... the river. It goes on. I will follow it, to the sea. And begin walking, then flying, content.
Some things, it seems, in dreams, no matter how lucid, no matter how aware, and no matter how understood remain hidden, not guarded, or buried away, but hidden from explanation by virtue of the fact the concepts and understanding simply does not exist in a human mind. Some things bleed over in metaphor, and still others can be embodied in archetypes and stories, in symbolic actions and representations. Looking a this, I moved them into clusters, some more illuminated by the light of awareness, some more opaque; I could feel myself feeling into them, and I did not loose my awareness, but there was no return. Like radar waves not returning to the device. These I left as dark, and on the map, my awareness created, I took a quill pen with gold ink, and carefully, as a monk, on the margins in those areas, I wrote “Here Be Dragons”. I carefully put the quill away, in a small box, and re capped the inkwell with golden luminescent ink. I rolled the vellum map and put it into a box in my mind.
I then turned to more practical matters. The computers, in dreams, that are communication and access portals. I had a new one, properly configured to now. I now take out an ink pen, and carefully order another device for my brother. Finally, I look for an older, yet more powerful one, for my mother. I buy two computers, not for my own use. And carefully fill out the delivery instructions; when im done, they appear, and I test each one as I did the layers beyond the form of things. There are things I do not expect, particularly in the older one; but when i'm satisfied, I I lift each one and drop it for final delivery into a seam in dreaming. With this, the direct working tasks are done, and I feel now I must go out of the blank space, into the realm of more solidified energy; what we call dreaming.
I walk, leisurely, down long empty roads that seem to be leading towards a city. I walk along a bridge with a rail line on it, it crosses a concrete truss bridge, and goes into something like a tunnel. I am waling on the edge of a drainage control embankment, going towards the bridge. It reminds me of the Los Angles river, and cross the concrete lined Chanel, going into the tunnel, it seems to be the start of a gray, low-rise industrial area. It is a very long walk, but i'm not in a hurry. Near a fence, with a gate, overlooking the channel, I run into a strange man with a beard. He is thin, and weather beaten, about forty years old. He seems like a backpacker more then a homeless man. He notices me, and pauses, then decides my presence does not change anything. We exchange a few words. When he get sin the tunnel, he removes a long stick with knife on it, like a jury rigged spear.
A train is coming, loud, powerfully. Its coming from outside going into the tunnel. He let part of it pass, then, with his spear, he cuts some cords, some cargo on a flatbed car, a single package, falls loose. When the train passes, he stops to gather what he hunted. They are...small, compact, seemingly foam blocks. That fit into each other. But they are greatly compressed. Somehow, someway, I see that each can be expanded, under the correct circumstances, to build a large barricade. He places them, into their container that fell with them, they compress even more. He loads this into his huge backpack. He pays me no attention, he is on the cell phone with the builder, and I hear him say he will get paid 200$ for each of the 12 or so blocks, which he considers an OK days hunting. I ask the (dream) scout to lend me momentum (push) to catch the moving train. He agrees. This seems fair, because I bore witness to his hunt. He walks out, back the way he came, and jumps the fence into the riverbed, to make his delivery. Im now alone again, and I go the opposite way, into the city. I do this by merging into the train, there is space somehow, not riding in it, I get ahead of it, I bend my steps, and let it hit me, and I am then in its structure, as long as I hold it. Like bat claws, the talons tighten the grip, when the bat relaxes. I do something similar, which is no easy feat, with a train bearing down on me, but I do. And am swept forward as I relax. Bat like.
Im carried into the city, past the tunnel, I detach myself from being embedded in the train, and start walking again. I have a general sense of where I am going. I enter a large, sprawling complex of three story condo buildings, it is near the industrial area, but across another river, at the edges of it, there are tall embankments with fences blocking it off. I walk in the first cluster of buildings, into one of the many small courtyards with small trees, between the buildings. There is something like a large party, like a martygraw, or celebration, no costumes, but young and old people, perhaps a celebration around a sporting event, is the feeling. Individual homes are open, serving food and liquor, and people wander between them, there is much music. This is a familiar place, in many recent dreams, the place where we , my family, were moving too, but it did not feel permanent, a month to month rental. Many family members are here, my brother is here, somewhere, if I can find him. Which is not my main focus, I figure ill find it when I find it, I start walking, watching.
I instinctively gravitate tot he places were there are less loud people. Little side walkways, and places on the edge. Something, the THICKNESS of energy, has made me, first stumble, and then fall, face first, towards the grass covered ground in a narrow space. I put my hands out in-front of me, so I do not face plant. An amazing thing happens. Little lines of force, like a magnetic repulsion, keeps me from falling. I lean into it. My legs lift up. Im suspended three feet from the ground. I began pushing and pulling, learning how this works. It feels, and looks, as if im doing pushups. Soon, practicing, I have the trick. I find a way to put slightly more weight in one direction or another, and propel myself, slowly at first, and then with great speed up and down these isolated pathways at the edges.
I find a narrow pathway, were the unseen pets, cats and dogs, live. I look around alcoves, little secluded spots by trees. I see young people, and some old ones, awkwardly making out or making love in secluded “bowers”. Its strange, no one removes their clothes. I don’t look to much at that, give them space. I find a spot, by a dog and cat, and don’t move; I rotate, more and more, until, I spin to somewhere else. A dog is looking at me, knowingly, it is, I suspect, another scout.
As I propel myself, spinning, not moving, I shift into one of the “here be dragon” energies. I emerge, but not fully, in another side space. Here, is Ragnar. Ragnars sons, to be precise. Their mother is Freya. Fenir, the wolf, is at the “margins”. A great sea cliff, over a fjord. Small. The sons of Ragnar, and Freya, become small, like the foam blocks on the train. I propel myself up a steep cliff, climbing, with them riding me like a carriage. I stop, at a cliff platform, near the top. A strange stone and wood, Scandinavian temple. “upsala”. And a white tree. The get off my back, and I stand. This was not my adventure. It was for the sons of lothgar, going to the temple to seek Odin. I don’t have many details. And we do not speak, just a bit part in some legend. I then, fly back down, and re enter the housing complex, at the spot I left. Again by the embankment, over the concrete river. I now fly through the people, who are all very drunk. “halls of waiting” I think of it now. Where warriors feast waiting “something”. I move in another way, there are many traps, that divide the sections of revelers. I am able to bypass them all by flying like this. I understand true flight can not be done here, its too “low and heavy” but what im doing, repulsion of that heavy force, seems to work very well. The levels are like circles in circles, and each threshold I pass is in and of itself a “trap”. It seems I am lost, like a labyrinth, full of unaware drinkers. But, then I relax, like with the train. I find an open door, with people who recognize me, “uncles and family”. They have food. Toffy covered peanuts. I eat a few. Refreshed. When I find them, I have gone far enough in, I know. So I go back outside, slowly, drifting.
I don’t “need” to find my “room”. I am fine, I will survive, thrive even, outside. Sleeping, wandering. I don’t need a box. I don’t need to go or stay or leave, im always were I am, I own that moment; I am always home. With this relaxation, the next place I suddenly find, was the goal it seems. I find my nephew, and by extension, brother rand sister and mom etc. He, my nephew, presents me with the pen, not the quill, I had used earlier. I had lost it. He had used it, to draw, used all the ink, he thinks I will be mad. But I am not. All the looking for a new home, moving, and I feel, know, I speak, or perhaps he speaks these words to me. I write them down, with the pen with no ink. “Home is a place we are”. This seems a good time to wake. To write notes, so I do instantly. An hour or two has passed, its not even 2am yet. I write, and then go back to sleep directly. No false wakings
When im asleep again, im back in the apartment I found my nephew and brother in. My brother is now present. He got the computer I sent, I see it again. He, in turn, has purchased new xbox's and a ps4.
One of the xbox's the older one, he gives to me. I greatly appreciate the gesture, as its another portal device. I know I wont use it much, but it there if I want to. I find an old game, from a dream ten years ago, saved, the dream. Where i left it. Its so different then me now, but I look at it, but do not play. Its a dream, saved, paused, from long ago. How familiar, yet old and no longer ME it feels. I close the window in dreams. I step outside. I am on a porch, the outside has moved. Home was where we were you see, and where we were moved, even though we, always being were we are, did not. A name, fills in, in a space. “Tineateas” Not sure if its a name, or a space. Lines of force, on a superficial world map. They loop and loop, California, where i am was over the spot, that in another, another level...was the land of “gong”. I find my sister here. I show her that sort of flying, and how to do it some.
Tu Di Gong (also known as Tu Di, Tu Gong, Tudi Yeye and Dabo Gong), is a Chinese earth god worshipped by Chinese folk religion worshippers and Taoists. A more formal name for Tu Di Gong is Fude Zhengshen(福德正神), literally the "God of Fortunes and Virtues".[1][2]
In China, every village[citation needed] had a shrine to Tu Di Gong. It was this deity who was in charge of administering the affairs of a particular village. In traditional times, village concerns were primarily agricultural or weather-related. This god was not all-powerful, but was a modest heavenly bureaucrat to whom individual villagers could turn in times of drought or famine.[1]
A large statue of Tu Di Gong at the Hongludi Temple in Zhonghe District,Taiwan.
Today, he is still worshiped by many Chinese, with many housing small shrines with his image, commonly located under the main altar, or below the house door. Many worships make prayers to him for wealth and their well being. He is also traditionally worshiped before the burial of deceased persons to thank him for using his land to return their bodies to the earth.[1]
Commoners often called Tu Di Gong "Grandpa" (yeye), which reflects his close relationship to the common people.[1]
Tu Di Gong is portrayed as an elderly man with a long white beard, a black or gold hat and a red or yellow robe, which signifies his position as a bureaucrat. He carries a wooden staff in his right hand and a golden ingot on the left.[1]
The same man, as by the RV, a few nights before. I think of him as “the racist old man”. The “racist old man” softens. Now there is “tolerance” if not acceptance. Its not that hes racist, as such, its how I see it; a hierarchy of social classes, or power grades, some are not as high as others. Another strange word. “Biber ... Gong”. When the man softens, misty clouds form, in layers of the sky. Rain, that soaks, in the roof, layers separate, but it does not leak. A softening of the land, from the drought. I am in an area, of prototypical ranches, old barns, a rural area, enclosed, I feel, by cities. The man tells me, this land is protected, conserved, the golden fields, in the center of the weight of beings. I is very beautiful, like a memory, from my treasured perception.
It is time for me to move again, I am drawn to the university, for more “unfinished business”. Its not as heavy here, so conversely, its not as easy to propel myself like a dolphin swims. However, I verify I still can, but here, it is simply easier to walk. I check with professors, departments, I have, in dreaming, this advanced degree im never sure if I completed or not. Once again, I do not find out tonight. Others are coming. Are here. I send a notice, somehow, to meet in the luncheon area, for a meeting/breakfast. It will last all day. I find the person in charge of catering, and pay, and it is set up. The cooking begins. As they cook, I decide I need to share something of myself. Somehow I remove strops of bacon, and spend a long time cooking them, to a crispy perfection. I stack them geometrically, upwards, on a plate, and set this as the centerpiece. Soon people I know, some now, some before, some never in waking, come, about seventy it seems. We have our breakfast, and conversations, in the large room. Some leave. But we are not done. Oddly, I speak very little. The caterer man comes, and moves the food, and says we need to move to smaller, yet more stately, series of rooms. I question him. He says they need the big one for evening meal. I nod. I help move things. This feast is now, gone on through dinner. Some twenty are left. Now we begin eating the bacon. I sit at a side table, there are two woman, a very dark one, and a younger lighter skinned one.
There is a bit of space between us, we are spread out, no one next to the other, at a small table. It seems, everyone feels “leaderless” All these people were under the same tent, same job, in a way, as me. First there was the old boss, long ago, removed. Then their was the new boss. The new boss was removed it seemed, do to unnecessary, destructive cruelty for some inner reason. Now there was no boss, no organization, and people were confused. It seems the point of the breakfast, and the bacon, was for them to work it out. I speak carefully to the black lady and the younger one about the bosses. I am on the edge, just advising. We eat the meal. A large group of them start walking their way. I need to fly more, I need to go another. I leave the university, purposefully, relaxed, wandering again.
At the edge, I am pulled down, its heavy again, I need to switch modes. I see. Something strange. Some cheerleaders. A white van. A man gets out, with a gun, and shoots them, vengeance? Some sick thing? I don’t know the story, but I feel the bullets. I spread out to be mist. I engulf them all, before any die, and like the maps, I absorb them all into myself to sort latter, to heal, or to preserve. I was, intrigued on some level; what is this, to block my path, here, at the edge, why? The reaction is to absorb. When I do, im much larger, and I fly, like a cloud. Im following a road, out to the wilderness. I am going to meat those that left the luncheon, but going a different way they can not. Am I following a stream, in a gully, but it grows, its large. It is as if im following the Colorado river, in deep red rock canyon walls, through the four corners area. And im looking down, near and far, big and small, at the river. I see something that makes me stop. And peer. Deep in the canyon, a city, made up of tall futuristic buildings, about 20, tall spires. Around it a tall (small) concrete wall, circular. Reminds me of a space colony from some movie, but there is no dome over it. Another awareness comes to speak to me. Bald. I have the funny thought, if im flying like superman, this would be his friend/enemy lex luthor. On the ground. It snot those things, but that personality fits him. He asks me to enter the city, to unlock it. He too, he says, needs a place to leave his family, to be safe. I can store knowledge there, protected. I see a nuclear cooling tower. Well yes, in the blood of the place, is radioactivity, but its safe. Its power. I do not agree or not, I do not speak. I simply move on. What I notice in the river, are tinny silver fish. But are they tiny? They would be huge to see from so far, more like whales. I wonder again about perspective, for a moment, and move on, im almost to the meeting place.
Its a long strip of land, that is at the river. A second river joins the first here, so this spit of land dwindles until it is knife like plateau, between, at the point the Colorado meets another river. On the top are pinion pines and brush. The soil is sparse, and the rocks are red. Here is were we were to meet. And they are here. When they arrive, we open picnic lunches, and have another meal, finally, the rest of the bacon in eaten. I am so excited, anticipation. I rise in the air. I begin to spin. As I do, bits of many meta songs I here, they go into the spin, hotter, faster. I do this...not sure how long, until the music is gone from me. And I settle tot he ground. And look around. They are all gone. Hours or more had passed. Gone without a trace. But I look. Here are some shoes, there, a jacket. I stand on the cliff, looking at the river. I know the all just jumped, and left. From this spot. I am alone. But not lonely. I find a few scrawled maps, a note to me, to another, left, with rocks on them to keep the wind from blowing them. I gather these, and put them in myself. I feel...satisfaction. Like the job is done. Now I can wander. Somehow being the flaming twirling sun, opened...something. And they left. Like earlier, the sons of ragnar. I did what I do, and now... the river. It goes on. I will follow it, to the sea. And begin walking, then flying, content.