07-28-2016, 12:00 AM
7/26-27/16 Painting level of God
- To start, it was something like a strange, hyper real narrative. There was a man and a woman, they would go on trips, in a car, to sedona, spiritual themed things, to catch a glimpse. They were always looking out the side of their eyes, to catch these flashes in time, that would zoom past, not unlike widely spaced streetlights might seem to wiz past a car in motion. The thing they were so hungry to find, and only saw these flashes that went by so quick, was meaning, understanding, spirituality in some sense of the word.
- There was a concurrent, other level of things, that was like the mirror to them...beings, the mirror of these two, and others. Short and childlike, i saw this in the glimpses that i saw through there eyes. Part of me split to be there, and part here. A good portion of me, however, stayed grounded in my actual self, that knew i was dreaming, the room around me, etc.
- The journey, for the other selves of these people, was, like the other level, a narrative or a story that they gave definition and plot via their perception and interaction. The more childlike, but rougher selves, and i could not but help think of them as hobbits, as a bit of a definitional joke, found one of those places; a fairy like gathering in a woods, that was just one of the flashes the other two had barely registered.
- The spirits there laid out a huge feast on wooden trestle tables. All sorts of things, like pork and vegetables; abundant, good, but also simple. They bid the travelers welcome, but there was a stern warning; "Eat only until one is full, is no longer hungry, but do not take on bite beyond that state". I could see/understand, know, from the guiding spirits, that to do so was as disrespectful as pulling off an old mans clothes and lashing him. they felt it in a similar way. And so, the great feast was started.
- The man and the woman saw a flash, it was off in the forest. The woods, and area, looked to me like the pacific northwest of the united states, the moss and ferns, to me, seemed indicative of something like the olympia temperate rain forest. Back and forth they rushed. They parked their SUV. They were walking into the woods, towards something like, but not light. Driven by something like, but not, the hunger that drove the other selves.
- The feast was fine, so many dishes, hard to sample a fraction and not be full. So they ate. I could feel when they were no longer hungry, but, the mind might say that one still is. This was not a trap as such, they KNEW, but they allowed it without a shift in disposition as long as it was not said, rude, aware. The male little hobbit type being, said, "these potatoes sweetened with yam are...perfect, i was full on those, but this pork and apple, i have to eat more" Still, the mood did not yet change. He took a large piece of pork, with pink skin, and put it in his mouth, and bit of half. Then paused. He declared, in his mind or out loud it was not clear, that he was too full. And placed the piece of meat back on his plate. Not to be finished. The teeth marks in the flesh were exaggerated. Time slowed. IT was like a gong, not a gong, but the slow...exaggerated moment.
- In the forest, with the two, it is chaos. The feeling of light is replaced by actual wind. A crack in the sky, driving rain. Branches whipping. the two, who went into the woods. Pause, they runa round like crazy looking for shelter. But there is none. And the rock cried out "no hiding place, there is no hiding place down here" OR i heard it. it was a song.
There's no hiding place down ground
Well, I run to the rocks and I hide my face
The rocks cried out, No hiding place
There's no hiding place down here
Oh, the devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe
The devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe
The devil wears hypocrite's shoe
If you don't watch, he'll slip it on you
There's no hiding place down here
- Screaming, flame. The assembled spirits, angry, a wailing. Fire. IT's too much, for the greedy ones. I am reassured. OF course they knew the nature of those that come, the...4 who were primary, were not upset. IT was...part of the experience. That was enough, to keep me impartial, experiencing, the...frenzy i hardly understood.
- Time. Morning...more time than that? A morning. The man and the women, in the car. Rushing, faster. Trying to catch another flash. There is nothing. No matter how much they drive, were they go, nothing but unbroken reality. This seems to be all they do now, searching. they are not happy, with even each other. Miserable in each others company, in some way. They drive. they drive roads full of rocks, full of sharp rocks, reckless. Along the sea. Into the forest. Nothing. Finally, a road too rocky.
- One of the tires, not punctured, sliced. The man holds it, thinking how to fix. The tires are honeycombed, filled with a jell like resin, to survive such places. A jagged piece of obsidian, had finally brought the drive to an end. The car, is in an area, similar to where i saw them before. He manages to affix the cut piece enough to move the car of the road. The tension between the two is almost too much for me to maintain cohesion. infact, i pull out, into the forest for a time and wait.
- IT is the middle of the night. there is a very heavy rain. The place where they parked the car, it is flooded, the car seems to be floating. They are still asleep. I use the rain, a heavy burst, to wake them. The car has detached from the bank. They think they will wait it out. A peal of thunder. They realize they need to get out, abandon it, but they are unwilling. Something has to be done but what, its hard when you dont think, i think explaining now. not then.
- It is morning. the sun is up. The car is on grass. But it had clearly been flooded. IT will not start again. IT is warm, like spring. They seem to accept the sudden shift. The man walks out, he walks up the bank, so does the woman. They dont seem to...remember. He looks at it, and looks away. He proclaims that he is starting to go broke, the beginning of being destitute, this loss after loss. She seems angry. He reminds me of me when he says that, what he means, energy, expense. But no, that's not me, its just...everyone that ever was or is, reminds me of me. And this one, proclamation, about energy, more specifically.
Hello
I've waited here for you
Everlong
Tonight I throw myself in two
Out of the red
Out of her head she sang
Come down and waste away with me
Down with me
Slow, how you wanted it to be
I'm over my head
Out of her head she sang
And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang
Breathe out
So I can breathe you in
Hold you in
And now
I know you've always been
Out of your head
Out of my head I sang
- This needs to be done. For their sake, and mine. Its enough of the reaction phase. I had found a house, that, infact, was the dwelling of what they sought. They had been driving around and around it. Its an old victorian farmhouse in a field of a dirt and gravel road. there i guide them, to be safe in the night. It is night again, was little transition. The knock on the door, apprehensive. I stand back watching. Im not actually there, nor was i ever anything solid in any of this.
- There are groups graduating up from small children to middle aged. Four groups. I know what theya re. Like the being sin the forest. the same underneath. I had noted at some point that the two levels had merged into one, they never noticed. So they sort those people away. To my surprise, the adress me. I am further surprised i am with my nephew again. I didnt notice. A group takes him. six year olds. They say they are equivalent. I am surrounded and led by 15-20 year olds. I tell them, this is funny, why. Both of us are infact twice the age we are assigned. a bit more than twice. I make a hoke about having turned forty a few hours before, right before i went to sleep. Smiles/non reaction or commentary in return.
- These, people, beings. I understand, like i understood before. They see everything, feel, observe, becasue they are pure and without that sort of definition. In a way, they would take each, peacefully, and see them. This, i would think, should frighten me, but it never does. They take me to a a large room with many small beds. Its nice enough, thoughts, unfiltered, directly. But quickly, whats in me is out in the open. And there is one voice. It notes everything. Its like a running commentary, as each new disgusting aspect is manifest it calls it. IT's not emotional, thats what is disturbing. Its spoken from and by the pure voice of a nine year old child. There is nothing to be mad at. I dont get reactions like shame. I get this...wanting to move, walk. do something, but not to address it.
- It notes strange things. Things from when i was two. Some are normal human things that are nothing. Some are deep and dark. I dont want to write them, i dont want to go into it, becasue i did not there. Some of the thing is would have expected were the worst, were never mentioned. some that i did not know, are normal part of living, were. It wsnt a catalogue of misdeeds, it was observations of what are. They are different. Any one of them, i could have been unnerved by. But i focussed.
- I began to walk in a circle. And then i was making steps, like dancing in a drum circle perhaps. I began to vocalize. there were four key points in the circle. where is tepped ehavy. Everything was commented on. And is tarted slow and unsure, as i built up. "he steps heavy, downbeats that depress, drag downward". the child said. the vocalizations are polluted it said. then it turned into music. From outside/in. Not what one would expect, and not to the rhythm of what i was doing. I listened. Interstate love song by stone temple pilots. Which, in the reaction, was commente don, might as well ahve been the darkest screamo. what it was wouldn't matter you see.
Feelin' like a hand in rusted shame
So do you laugh at those who cry?
Reply?
Leavin' on a southern train
Only yesterday you lied,
Promises of what I seemed to be
Only watched the time go by
All of these things you said to me
Breathing is the hardest thing to do
With all I've said and all that's dead for you
You lied
Good bye
- this was a circular reaction to that voice i simply would not or could not react to or focus on all the hooks. like hands. I quickly moved on. More, i started...in what i was doing, nothing else was real in that moment. the four were posted, four clear basic...resonances inside. It took on a dynamic of its own. The only connection i had to anything was that voice critiquing and not liking anything it perceived.
- Pulses and resonances. A building of energy in patterns. I only can explain becasue of that voice. IT was saying things like "look how god rejects him, pulls away from the approach". What i was perceiving was this circular growth, like bubbling, of fluid from nothing. Not fluid, but similar. In it, with the words i was hearing, pulses that would make it black, or lighter, it would mix, and recoil, one would be stronger than the other. IT was beyond the shifting i've seen often, that happen inside of dreams, with those iob types of beings when they lock gaze. Whatever i was doing, and i didnt have a form again, maybe dancing? was shifting the waters/oil substance. As it reacted to certain things. It mixed. not the lighter or blacker. somehow, i mixed it to a purple blue type color. Violet perhaps? but a bit darker. There was small bits of dark and no color still/gold or absence of dark. This went on until...it withdrew, i was done. Falls away. The childs voice is also silent.
- I am sitting in the middle of the circle i made dancing, that space. My knees are drawn up. Im staring at my hands. the quiver. Like with energy not exhaustion, they vibrate. they are covered by the substance i saw, a thin layer. It is slowly absorbing into the skin or dissipating.
- Another voice, one of the smaller children. Has a british accent. She says simply "He touched the painting level, painted with it. they meant the energy reactions...the quicksilver like...i assume. With or at around god was the unsaid part. I looked at my hands again,. i raised them and licked them. I wanted to swallow some of that so i didnt loose it? It had no taste. It was smooth and clear. It felt like something without feeling like anything. So i put my hands back out. Fascinated by the substance dissolving into my hands, and seeing every little wrinkle and pore in my skin. Also, i couldn't really do anything in that state but look. I had no speech in me even in mind.
- this happened quickly. The girls voice said "we have to tell her the one she said might come some day, shes been talking about, is here. he painted. The mean voice is now sullen, or miffed. He just says "he could have done it somewhere else than my bedroom". This is sweet/funny to me, but no emotion still. it ends any open curiosity about the flaws proclaimed. IT really was a child, and innocent in this way. Well, my hands dry, they resonate. And i wake from that as it fades. So i didnt really listen to *$*! she said, the other child about the lady. No real curiosity then or now about that or any of that. Really, only what i touched/perceived. that was it. The rest, was, in its way, like the proclamations of flaws, if that makes any sense.
- To start, it was something like a strange, hyper real narrative. There was a man and a woman, they would go on trips, in a car, to sedona, spiritual themed things, to catch a glimpse. They were always looking out the side of their eyes, to catch these flashes in time, that would zoom past, not unlike widely spaced streetlights might seem to wiz past a car in motion. The thing they were so hungry to find, and only saw these flashes that went by so quick, was meaning, understanding, spirituality in some sense of the word.
- There was a concurrent, other level of things, that was like the mirror to them...beings, the mirror of these two, and others. Short and childlike, i saw this in the glimpses that i saw through there eyes. Part of me split to be there, and part here. A good portion of me, however, stayed grounded in my actual self, that knew i was dreaming, the room around me, etc.
- The journey, for the other selves of these people, was, like the other level, a narrative or a story that they gave definition and plot via their perception and interaction. The more childlike, but rougher selves, and i could not but help think of them as hobbits, as a bit of a definitional joke, found one of those places; a fairy like gathering in a woods, that was just one of the flashes the other two had barely registered.
- The spirits there laid out a huge feast on wooden trestle tables. All sorts of things, like pork and vegetables; abundant, good, but also simple. They bid the travelers welcome, but there was a stern warning; "Eat only until one is full, is no longer hungry, but do not take on bite beyond that state". I could see/understand, know, from the guiding spirits, that to do so was as disrespectful as pulling off an old mans clothes and lashing him. they felt it in a similar way. And so, the great feast was started.
- The man and the woman saw a flash, it was off in the forest. The woods, and area, looked to me like the pacific northwest of the united states, the moss and ferns, to me, seemed indicative of something like the olympia temperate rain forest. Back and forth they rushed. They parked their SUV. They were walking into the woods, towards something like, but not light. Driven by something like, but not, the hunger that drove the other selves.
- The feast was fine, so many dishes, hard to sample a fraction and not be full. So they ate. I could feel when they were no longer hungry, but, the mind might say that one still is. This was not a trap as such, they KNEW, but they allowed it without a shift in disposition as long as it was not said, rude, aware. The male little hobbit type being, said, "these potatoes sweetened with yam are...perfect, i was full on those, but this pork and apple, i have to eat more" Still, the mood did not yet change. He took a large piece of pork, with pink skin, and put it in his mouth, and bit of half. Then paused. He declared, in his mind or out loud it was not clear, that he was too full. And placed the piece of meat back on his plate. Not to be finished. The teeth marks in the flesh were exaggerated. Time slowed. IT was like a gong, not a gong, but the slow...exaggerated moment.
- In the forest, with the two, it is chaos. The feeling of light is replaced by actual wind. A crack in the sky, driving rain. Branches whipping. the two, who went into the woods. Pause, they runa round like crazy looking for shelter. But there is none. And the rock cried out "no hiding place, there is no hiding place down here" OR i heard it. it was a song.
There's no hiding place down ground
Well, I run to the rocks and I hide my face
The rocks cried out, No hiding place
There's no hiding place down here
Oh, the devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe
The devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe
The devil wears hypocrite's shoe
If you don't watch, he'll slip it on you
There's no hiding place down here
- Screaming, flame. The assembled spirits, angry, a wailing. Fire. IT's too much, for the greedy ones. I am reassured. OF course they knew the nature of those that come, the...4 who were primary, were not upset. IT was...part of the experience. That was enough, to keep me impartial, experiencing, the...frenzy i hardly understood.
- Time. Morning...more time than that? A morning. The man and the women, in the car. Rushing, faster. Trying to catch another flash. There is nothing. No matter how much they drive, were they go, nothing but unbroken reality. This seems to be all they do now, searching. they are not happy, with even each other. Miserable in each others company, in some way. They drive. they drive roads full of rocks, full of sharp rocks, reckless. Along the sea. Into the forest. Nothing. Finally, a road too rocky.
- One of the tires, not punctured, sliced. The man holds it, thinking how to fix. The tires are honeycombed, filled with a jell like resin, to survive such places. A jagged piece of obsidian, had finally brought the drive to an end. The car, is in an area, similar to where i saw them before. He manages to affix the cut piece enough to move the car of the road. The tension between the two is almost too much for me to maintain cohesion. infact, i pull out, into the forest for a time and wait.
- IT is the middle of the night. there is a very heavy rain. The place where they parked the car, it is flooded, the car seems to be floating. They are still asleep. I use the rain, a heavy burst, to wake them. The car has detached from the bank. They think they will wait it out. A peal of thunder. They realize they need to get out, abandon it, but they are unwilling. Something has to be done but what, its hard when you dont think, i think explaining now. not then.
- It is morning. the sun is up. The car is on grass. But it had clearly been flooded. IT will not start again. IT is warm, like spring. They seem to accept the sudden shift. The man walks out, he walks up the bank, so does the woman. They dont seem to...remember. He looks at it, and looks away. He proclaims that he is starting to go broke, the beginning of being destitute, this loss after loss. She seems angry. He reminds me of me when he says that, what he means, energy, expense. But no, that's not me, its just...everyone that ever was or is, reminds me of me. And this one, proclamation, about energy, more specifically.
Hello
I've waited here for you
Everlong
Tonight I throw myself in two
Out of the red
Out of her head she sang
Come down and waste away with me
Down with me
Slow, how you wanted it to be
I'm over my head
Out of her head she sang
And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang
Breathe out
So I can breathe you in
Hold you in
And now
I know you've always been
Out of your head
Out of my head I sang
- This needs to be done. For their sake, and mine. Its enough of the reaction phase. I had found a house, that, infact, was the dwelling of what they sought. They had been driving around and around it. Its an old victorian farmhouse in a field of a dirt and gravel road. there i guide them, to be safe in the night. It is night again, was little transition. The knock on the door, apprehensive. I stand back watching. Im not actually there, nor was i ever anything solid in any of this.
- There are groups graduating up from small children to middle aged. Four groups. I know what theya re. Like the being sin the forest. the same underneath. I had noted at some point that the two levels had merged into one, they never noticed. So they sort those people away. To my surprise, the adress me. I am further surprised i am with my nephew again. I didnt notice. A group takes him. six year olds. They say they are equivalent. I am surrounded and led by 15-20 year olds. I tell them, this is funny, why. Both of us are infact twice the age we are assigned. a bit more than twice. I make a hoke about having turned forty a few hours before, right before i went to sleep. Smiles/non reaction or commentary in return.
- These, people, beings. I understand, like i understood before. They see everything, feel, observe, becasue they are pure and without that sort of definition. In a way, they would take each, peacefully, and see them. This, i would think, should frighten me, but it never does. They take me to a a large room with many small beds. Its nice enough, thoughts, unfiltered, directly. But quickly, whats in me is out in the open. And there is one voice. It notes everything. Its like a running commentary, as each new disgusting aspect is manifest it calls it. IT's not emotional, thats what is disturbing. Its spoken from and by the pure voice of a nine year old child. There is nothing to be mad at. I dont get reactions like shame. I get this...wanting to move, walk. do something, but not to address it.
- It notes strange things. Things from when i was two. Some are normal human things that are nothing. Some are deep and dark. I dont want to write them, i dont want to go into it, becasue i did not there. Some of the thing is would have expected were the worst, were never mentioned. some that i did not know, are normal part of living, were. It wsnt a catalogue of misdeeds, it was observations of what are. They are different. Any one of them, i could have been unnerved by. But i focussed.
- I began to walk in a circle. And then i was making steps, like dancing in a drum circle perhaps. I began to vocalize. there were four key points in the circle. where is tepped ehavy. Everything was commented on. And is tarted slow and unsure, as i built up. "he steps heavy, downbeats that depress, drag downward". the child said. the vocalizations are polluted it said. then it turned into music. From outside/in. Not what one would expect, and not to the rhythm of what i was doing. I listened. Interstate love song by stone temple pilots. Which, in the reaction, was commente don, might as well ahve been the darkest screamo. what it was wouldn't matter you see.
Feelin' like a hand in rusted shame
So do you laugh at those who cry?
Reply?
Leavin' on a southern train
Only yesterday you lied,
Promises of what I seemed to be
Only watched the time go by
All of these things you said to me
Breathing is the hardest thing to do
With all I've said and all that's dead for you
You lied
Good bye
- this was a circular reaction to that voice i simply would not or could not react to or focus on all the hooks. like hands. I quickly moved on. More, i started...in what i was doing, nothing else was real in that moment. the four were posted, four clear basic...resonances inside. It took on a dynamic of its own. The only connection i had to anything was that voice critiquing and not liking anything it perceived.
- Pulses and resonances. A building of energy in patterns. I only can explain becasue of that voice. IT was saying things like "look how god rejects him, pulls away from the approach". What i was perceiving was this circular growth, like bubbling, of fluid from nothing. Not fluid, but similar. In it, with the words i was hearing, pulses that would make it black, or lighter, it would mix, and recoil, one would be stronger than the other. IT was beyond the shifting i've seen often, that happen inside of dreams, with those iob types of beings when they lock gaze. Whatever i was doing, and i didnt have a form again, maybe dancing? was shifting the waters/oil substance. As it reacted to certain things. It mixed. not the lighter or blacker. somehow, i mixed it to a purple blue type color. Violet perhaps? but a bit darker. There was small bits of dark and no color still/gold or absence of dark. This went on until...it withdrew, i was done. Falls away. The childs voice is also silent.
- I am sitting in the middle of the circle i made dancing, that space. My knees are drawn up. Im staring at my hands. the quiver. Like with energy not exhaustion, they vibrate. they are covered by the substance i saw, a thin layer. It is slowly absorbing into the skin or dissipating.
- Another voice, one of the smaller children. Has a british accent. She says simply "He touched the painting level, painted with it. they meant the energy reactions...the quicksilver like...i assume. With or at around god was the unsaid part. I looked at my hands again,. i raised them and licked them. I wanted to swallow some of that so i didnt loose it? It had no taste. It was smooth and clear. It felt like something without feeling like anything. So i put my hands back out. Fascinated by the substance dissolving into my hands, and seeing every little wrinkle and pore in my skin. Also, i couldn't really do anything in that state but look. I had no speech in me even in mind.
- this happened quickly. The girls voice said "we have to tell her the one she said might come some day, shes been talking about, is here. he painted. The mean voice is now sullen, or miffed. He just says "he could have done it somewhere else than my bedroom". This is sweet/funny to me, but no emotion still. it ends any open curiosity about the flaws proclaimed. IT really was a child, and innocent in this way. Well, my hands dry, they resonate. And i wake from that as it fades. So i didnt really listen to *$*! she said, the other child about the lady. No real curiosity then or now about that or any of that. Really, only what i touched/perceived. that was it. The rest, was, in its way, like the proclamations of flaws, if that makes any sense.