11-06-2011, 12:00 AM
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The
first one im going to tell is more then a month old....less then a
week after the "temple of the dooms? of the forgotten god" one.
I found myself in a grand amusement park with my brother and other
family members. As I looked around, each of the rides was a
dream/challenge or a representation of some peril ive faced in my life.
The haunted house id see as a child and again in the last year, where
the dead would be howling in their rooms. But now it was more like the
Disneyland haunted house. I could appreciate it. Roller coasters, gift
shops...each of them had meaning. I had a set of nice luggage. Every one
of these rides id take something meaningful to me. So a ride that was
about my fear as a child, I took the teddy bear my father gave me that
was his as a child. From the haunted house a wind up clock. A different
object from each one. I packed these neatly into the bags, until they
were full. One of the things I find is the stone tablet I told you
about. The one I broke and danced over the traps. Its here, in pieces
still and crumbly. This time im trying to keep the damn thing together
and am looking at the writing. Somehow I put it in a pile of papers...my
sloppy notes from another dream I told you about? And forget it.
A light rain started falling, at the end of one of the gift shop
streets was an electronics store with an open mesh screen ceiling. I was
a bit worried for the devices, but the attendant, didn?t seem
concerned. He was a very thin, very "ghetto" black guy. Crack thin. I
took this in, but just smiled didn?t recoil. He made a comment and
smiled, and I smiled too. But it was time to go. We pulled the luggage
into a plush red velvet and brass (art deco) waiting room. The whole
room was an elevator. Attendants in uniforms (again period art deco 20's
uniforms...a big white guy and black guy)) with wary eyes closed the
doors, and it moved. I turned my back on the baggage. When the room
stopped and the doors opened, I went back for it. It was gone! I got
desperate. My family left with the crowd, but I turned back. I
confronted the attendants. They just smiled cruelly. "Sir if you don?t
calm down we will have to restrain you". They just wanted to kick my
ass. I take the room back out to the now empty amusement park, shutting
down. I wander looking for my bags. I wander back to the amusement shop
and the crack head. He sees im upset, and he asks very gently "Is this
one of your bags?" He pulls out the smallest of the bags and opens it
for me too look. In it is the teddy bear on some folded T-shirts. I feel
relief but confusion.
Why did they take it? I ask. He points
at a symbol on the clasp. It is a symbol I have been seeing in my eyes
when I close them. An oval with twin lines bisecting it, outside and
turning at an angle towards the center. He asks "where did you find the
luggage?" And I think...I just found it and used it. "The symbol is the
symbol of the master, the teacher" "When full, the pieces go out to
those who can learn from the experiences or use the objects". He hugs
the ratty old bear to his chest and smiles. And I smile. I feel so good.
That I was able to share and help. Im glad he has my bear to help him,
I realize allot. about the process of collecting
it all, then giving it away. Allot more then I can communicate in words.
I had completed a holy task. The crack head said so lol. I
mentioned to him "somebody better tell the guards, they were going to
beat me". I really want to rub their face in it. lol. I wander back to
the room and there is a figure in Tibetan or at least yellow or saffron
robes. I smile and then im out, with just my sloppy loose leaf notes in
a pile clutched in my hand.
Right after this, I am in a
ceremony. Im not the center of it. I am part of the honor guard (like
the Vatican Swiss guard) in position around the room. The uniform is a
cross between Napoleonic and Spartan (lol). So allot of my pale thigh is
showing because its just a little puff around the waste and high boots.
I think about how ugly I look...its showing all of my (exaggerated like
a low self esteem characterture in the dream) roly-poly physique. How
silly I must look, a fat bald guy (im not bald yet lol) who is too short
whilst the other guards/knights look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. I
laugh about it but nobody is looking at me like that. They aren?t even
looking...im part of the ceremony, and nobody is looking at my man boobs
through the silk shirt. hehe Im just focused on not slouching. I keep
wanting to shift around but im making myself stand straight despite my
natural poor posture. Somehow I make it. That same Teacher figure,
conducting the class smiles. at us all. He?s fine but its not about him
either.
So im out of that area. I take a bus. It drops me off
in a historic Colorado mining town that looks like it Was an
attraction, but is back to a little shabby. I step off the bus, onto a
busy sidewalk. All the cars look kind of worn and cheap, the people have
the "lower middle class" trying to not be poor vibe. Road pavement is cracked. But not dirty or
dangerous. I look a round, look at the sky, look up and down the main
street trying to figure where I am and why the hell im here. And
something blindsides me and knocks me to the pavement. A man stands over
me with a drawn, ornate Gun with a laser sight. He quickly points it
at my chest and fires. No words, no anything. Just knocks me down and
shoots me. All I do is raise my clutched papers like a futile shield.
But his face. It was rubbery and wrong...not a mask, but sort of like
uncooked sourdough. Just not quite right. He fires. The loudest and
scariest sound.
The bullet hits me. He turns and runs, disappears
back into the shadows and is gone. But im alive? I look at my notes.
Impossibly, that thick stone tablet was hidden by my sketches and notes
on the loose sheets of notebook paper. It blocked the
bullet. I pick myself up, and walk into what looks like it was a old
saloon/tourist saloon restored/mostly abandoned again bar. Sit down and
the barkeep (In period barkeep like clothes) comes up and pats my
shoulder. You survived! By God your alive. Nobody has ever survived a
point blank shot by that type of weapon. Im not talking, im forming
questions in my mind. "your lieutenant.. Your friend. He rebelled to
take over your operation...Im all that?s left. But by god your back and
you survived. Poured me drink and I sipped, confused. Looked around the
room, The polished brass and bottle of whisky, saloon stage,
chandelier, the upstairs rooms. My base, a place I was at another time
apparently. No real memories. Im alive. For now. But I know he will
never stop until I destroy him or he kills me so he can take what he
lacks. Im not sure I can or will. But he wont attack again for awhile,
it takes along time to build up the energy. Or so I understand. Time for
a drink I guess.
Im not sure that was ....triggered the memory. And your saying the
purple lips...ick. The shooters seemed purple and spittly, and his eyes
had a dead steel behind the warmth. might not be him. But I know the
type. I used to be one of that type. Or close
to it . Before I closed down and went
free? On an adventure? Was born? Who knows not me. But the bad guys
always surround themselves with needy victims as a shield against people
like me , and as a source of gratification. Anyway.
there it is. In words. When most of it was imagery and emotion.
>
The
first one im going to tell is more then a month old....less then a
week after the "temple of the dooms? of the forgotten god" one.
I found myself in a grand amusement park with my brother and other
family members. As I looked around, each of the rides was a
dream/challenge or a representation of some peril ive faced in my life.
The haunted house id see as a child and again in the last year, where
the dead would be howling in their rooms. But now it was more like the
Disneyland haunted house. I could appreciate it. Roller coasters, gift
shops...each of them had meaning. I had a set of nice luggage. Every one
of these rides id take something meaningful to me. So a ride that was
about my fear as a child, I took the teddy bear my father gave me that
was his as a child. From the haunted house a wind up clock. A different
object from each one. I packed these neatly into the bags, until they
were full. One of the things I find is the stone tablet I told you
about. The one I broke and danced over the traps. Its here, in pieces
still and crumbly. This time im trying to keep the damn thing together
and am looking at the writing. Somehow I put it in a pile of papers...my
sloppy notes from another dream I told you about? And forget it.
A light rain started falling, at the end of one of the gift shop
streets was an electronics store with an open mesh screen ceiling. I was
a bit worried for the devices, but the attendant, didn?t seem
concerned. He was a very thin, very "ghetto" black guy. Crack thin. I
took this in, but just smiled didn?t recoil. He made a comment and
smiled, and I smiled too. But it was time to go. We pulled the luggage
into a plush red velvet and brass (art deco) waiting room. The whole
room was an elevator. Attendants in uniforms (again period art deco 20's
uniforms...a big white guy and black guy)) with wary eyes closed the
doors, and it moved. I turned my back on the baggage. When the room
stopped and the doors opened, I went back for it. It was gone! I got
desperate. My family left with the crowd, but I turned back. I
confronted the attendants. They just smiled cruelly. "Sir if you don?t
calm down we will have to restrain you". They just wanted to kick my
ass. I take the room back out to the now empty amusement park, shutting
down. I wander looking for my bags. I wander back to the amusement shop
and the crack head. He sees im upset, and he asks very gently "Is this
one of your bags?" He pulls out the smallest of the bags and opens it
for me too look. In it is the teddy bear on some folded T-shirts. I feel
relief but confusion.
Why did they take it? I ask. He points
at a symbol on the clasp. It is a symbol I have been seeing in my eyes
when I close them. An oval with twin lines bisecting it, outside and
turning at an angle towards the center. He asks "where did you find the
luggage?" And I think...I just found it and used it. "The symbol is the
symbol of the master, the teacher" "When full, the pieces go out to
those who can learn from the experiences or use the objects". He hugs
the ratty old bear to his chest and smiles. And I smile. I feel so good.
That I was able to share and help. Im glad he has my bear to help him,
I realize allot. about the process of collecting
it all, then giving it away. Allot more then I can communicate in words.
I had completed a holy task. The crack head said so lol. I
mentioned to him "somebody better tell the guards, they were going to
beat me". I really want to rub their face in it. lol. I wander back to
the room and there is a figure in Tibetan or at least yellow or saffron
robes. I smile and then im out, with just my sloppy loose leaf notes in
a pile clutched in my hand.
Right after this, I am in a
ceremony. Im not the center of it. I am part of the honor guard (like
the Vatican Swiss guard) in position around the room. The uniform is a
cross between Napoleonic and Spartan (lol). So allot of my pale thigh is
showing because its just a little puff around the waste and high boots.
I think about how ugly I look...its showing all of my (exaggerated like
a low self esteem characterture in the dream) roly-poly physique. How
silly I must look, a fat bald guy (im not bald yet lol) who is too short
whilst the other guards/knights look like Arnold Schwarzenegger. I
laugh about it but nobody is looking at me like that. They aren?t even
looking...im part of the ceremony, and nobody is looking at my man boobs
through the silk shirt. hehe Im just focused on not slouching. I keep
wanting to shift around but im making myself stand straight despite my
natural poor posture. Somehow I make it. That same Teacher figure,
conducting the class smiles. at us all. He?s fine but its not about him
either.
So im out of that area. I take a bus. It drops me off
in a historic Colorado mining town that looks like it Was an
attraction, but is back to a little shabby. I step off the bus, onto a
busy sidewalk. All the cars look kind of worn and cheap, the people have
the "lower middle class" trying to not be poor vibe. Road pavement is cracked. But not dirty or
dangerous. I look a round, look at the sky, look up and down the main
street trying to figure where I am and why the hell im here. And
something blindsides me and knocks me to the pavement. A man stands over
me with a drawn, ornate Gun with a laser sight. He quickly points it
at my chest and fires. No words, no anything. Just knocks me down and
shoots me. All I do is raise my clutched papers like a futile shield.
But his face. It was rubbery and wrong...not a mask, but sort of like
uncooked sourdough. Just not quite right. He fires. The loudest and
scariest sound.
The bullet hits me. He turns and runs, disappears
back into the shadows and is gone. But im alive? I look at my notes.
Impossibly, that thick stone tablet was hidden by my sketches and notes
on the loose sheets of notebook paper. It blocked the
bullet. I pick myself up, and walk into what looks like it was a old
saloon/tourist saloon restored/mostly abandoned again bar. Sit down and
the barkeep (In period barkeep like clothes) comes up and pats my
shoulder. You survived! By God your alive. Nobody has ever survived a
point blank shot by that type of weapon. Im not talking, im forming
questions in my mind. "your lieutenant.. Your friend. He rebelled to
take over your operation...Im all that?s left. But by god your back and
you survived. Poured me drink and I sipped, confused. Looked around the
room, The polished brass and bottle of whisky, saloon stage,
chandelier, the upstairs rooms. My base, a place I was at another time
apparently. No real memories. Im alive. For now. But I know he will
never stop until I destroy him or he kills me so he can take what he
lacks. Im not sure I can or will. But he wont attack again for awhile,
it takes along time to build up the energy. Or so I understand. Time for
a drink I guess.
Im not sure that was ....triggered the memory. And your saying the
purple lips...ick. The shooters seemed purple and spittly, and his eyes
had a dead steel behind the warmth. might not be him. But I know the
type. I used to be one of that type. Or close
to it . Before I closed down and went
free? On an adventure? Was born? Who knows not me. But the bad guys
always surround themselves with needy victims as a shield against people
like me , and as a source of gratification. Anyway.
there it is. In words. When most of it was imagery and emotion.