06-27-2012, 12:01 AM
6/26/12
Easter Egg Hunt
I only woke once, needing/wanting to record a dream. The latter ones “felt” similar, but before waking I didn’t feel a desire or need to recap or recall them so I let them fade into being impressions and feelings, as opposed to words and stories. When I do that, im left with a different kind of feeling, energy from dreaming. When im recording, or writing, I generally only do so if there is energy from the dream or a specific intent to be written, not sure how to explain but I try and do so every couple posts it seems.
I was almost alone. I do not recall from before, but it seems like it was a hard life, hungry, on edge, never resting easy. There was a girl with me, maybe a bit younger. In not sure if it was sister, or not, it was close but not defined. We were “found” by beings i could not quite remember, and left in a school. It was like a boarding school. When the dream story picked up, I had already been there for years? In sleep. Waking, sleeping, keeping quiet at the edges, going to class. It was full of people younger then me, then one solder...like up to late teens. In the dream, I was no older then 11 or 12 years of age.
The girl and I would often sit, alone, and talk, or read, or stay out of the way of the older children. They had their own social structure and pecking order, big kids and small, loud, and although we were all in uniforms, like at a catholic school, our shoes gave away our “poverty”. That was the one customizable piece of the uniform. We had plain, durable but inexpensive shoes. A bit old. That, and other small details, set people apart. Also we didn’t have the pedigree of “parents” or “where we came from, or big stories about where we were going”. It didn’t seem too bad, we just stayed to ourselves. We had more friends, another girl and a very young little boy. So there were like four of us really. The different people on the fringes. One day, after class, I saw my face in the mirror. It looked like I did, at 11, but my hair was platinum blond or just platinum, one of the girls hair was like this as well I recall, the one I came here with. The other girls hair was brown, and the little boys hair was very blonde but thin.
A holiday came. It was Easter, but there was a spring snowstorm, and the boarding school was cut off for a bit. So the teachers did their best, hosting a holiday for the students. Sometimes they would stay for the students like us who had no home to go too, so there were always some staff on hand. In that way, we were somewhat closer to some of the staff then our fellow students, but that just made us more not isolated form the other students...but again, it was better then before, being afraid for survival itself all the time.
The holiday itself, was magic. Rather then hide eggs, power itself would manifest treats, baskets, eggs. But only for those who looked. So one still had to “hunt” for “power” and “baskets with candy/eggs” some eggs were food, others were like Faberge eggs covered with gems and crystals. So children and teens would scramble, seeking. Small children would go for the candy. Older children would seek food items like eggs or warm bread like cinnamon bread, still steaming. The older children tended to be more greedy, they only would seek the gems covered ones, that’s all they saw of real “value” what the “desired”. Power made them work the hardest for those, and they were in short supply. So the social structure the larger and louder students had came into play. Who was allowed to take what, and if they found it, the “bosses” would take their share, first picks. They didn’t even look, they sent others to look while they counted the returns. I...it was hard. They started organizing even down to the egg and bread level, and soon, they were even controlling the candy. They were careful not to deprive anyone of those things, but they slanted it so that the gifts of power had to go through them, for approval, then THEY were the ones who wee to be thanked by providing what spirit gifted. It made me very sad. I was street, sorta, I knew what was going on, and it wasn’t a harmless game like it seemed to teachers. Or did it? Regardless, my friends were small, or shy, and outside that structure in the school, so we were “allowed” to seek little, and keep nothing. I was not going to stand for that. So I went out, seeking as I do, finding eggs and candy, even a gem egg or two. Put them in a little basket, I asked power for something to hold them in. I was careful only to SEE and FEEL what were gifts for us, and I went to them. Once i understood, I didn’t need to look. When I felt a chocolate rabbit for the little one, it simply materialized in front of me. So then I didn’t really have to look after awhile. When spirit had given us all that it felt was out share, or that we could use, I was happy, the basket was overflowing. I found some bread and egg of “mine” and began eating it as I walked back to my friends. They had found a few things too, out in our side room hat was unused save by us, but as they usually were, they were busy playing dolls and jacks, and avoiding the others. We always used this room, when we were here alone in the summer when the other students had left.
A older girl is there, her job was just to watch us and snitch if we do anything, or leave, to the boss students. She sees me smiling and whistling as I chew my bread and egg, and she grabs my basket. She said I was hoarding, taking all this for myself, not sharing it out to the leader, mayor, for him to decide who is “most deserving” she pulls me by my ear towards the main room with one hand, and snatches the basket away with the other and is quite rough. At first I plead and try to explain, and even try to explain how to see power and just find its gifts directly, I think that was the point after all, not the actual things. But she doesn’t listen, and then the in crowd, when im dragged up tot hem, aren’t listening either.
I try and explain, but it makes them more angry, hostile, hateful in a restrained way. They dump out my basket, and say I had so much, it some then they had all together found, so therefore, I must have TAKEN all from them. I tried to explain again, I only found what was willed for the four of us to find, if they’d only listen they’d each have such a bounty, but one of them smacked me on the face. It turned very red. Then I began to cry in frustration.
This brought a teacher, but also like an older nun type. She always seemed so severe, I hardly ever talked to her she acted....odd around us. But she was always in the background, hovering, once I almost saw her smiling when we were playing dolls. I didn’t like to play dolls, I like dot play swords in the garden by the yew tree, but the girls liked to play dolls sometimes and to be honest I sorta liked it too sometimes. Sometimes that nun/teacher would hover and listen to the stories we made for the dolls, not quite paying attention but I could tell she was. So she seemed OK. She was always here. So then the other students pronounced their judgement on me, and us, being greedy. They Said my face was red because I got so mad being asked to share. Not because they struck me. That i cried tears of greed for the loss of my stolen treats. I tried to yell, thats not true! You struck me, and you steal from my friends, and the little ones! But as soon as I spoke the nun gave me a stern, penetrating look. Then a male teacher came and listened to their story, and seemed to buy into it. He turned a cool eye on me. The other students said “they simply don’t belong, they aren’t the right sort of people at all” the male teacher looked hard at me. The head student took the basket, and the others went back to their dividing and seeking games. The teachers spoke about “grave concerns” but i was so broken in spirit now I hardly listened. I sat facing a wall, and slumped my head and silently sobbed.
The nun teacher I could feel behind me, it had gone quiet save for my sobs. “Look at me” she commanded. I looked up and turned around, seeing her through tear streaked eyes. She was emanating light, it reminded me of when the when I saw the sun through my almost closed eyes. Very energetic. I of course remembered my life here, this age, this place, but it was like one of the stories...infact it WAS one of the stories, we acted out with the dolls in play, so it was like a life imagined, my knowing of self, here, me, this age. So I looked up at her, my eyes must have held more sadness, or grief, then I would have thought, and it wasn’t because of the treats or basket. It was the rest of it. The teacher looked into my eyes. Then there was no separation between us, she was I and I was her, but I wasn’t aware, so mostly she was me...I saw. I saw so much. I saw stories.
I am in another world. I am a hobo? A homeless man? Something like that. I sleep on a bed of cardboard and have only my rags to keep me warm. But im like I am now, I can see. There is a man, a man who lives in a gleaming tower in a city. I see, people, women sometimes go up to his tower. Then I see, a day latter, bundles tied, trash bags, left in a dumpster in the ally. Im just the homeless man, so he doesn’t thing to see if I can see. He looks young, but I look again. He is like a mannequin, around the joints are floating rings like razor wire, and the eyes seem dead, cold. But outside, he is a warm man, a handsome man. Children and police, women trust and like him. But im not fooled. I sleep in a trashcan.
Im not so easily deceived it seems. When im sure, about my seeing. I do something to the fence by the dumpster. Something that will interact with his rings, and harm no other. So one night. I pretend to be asleep, I see him, coming out. With a body. He dumps it, then stands and pleasures himself over it by the fense. His arm, with a ring, hits the chain link. It is stuck. Then he gets drawn to the fence like a magnet. He cries in shock, then he sees me. Sleeping on the cardboard, looking. He screams, he curses,
he promises wealth and such, free me! I demand it! Or you will be cursed. My face curls back, not a laugh, or a smile, A look like animal, teeth bared. A snarl perhaps. I have like 4 teeth. And then, slowly, that thing, that man dies. The fence you see, the rings, it shifted them, his form is cut, his invulnerable form. On the outside, it looks like he was hung from the fence. But really it is the rings.
I see latter. The police find him, it is in all the headlines. This great man. Killed by a filthy transient. I am never taken to trial, the police beat me to death in the ally, slowly, mocking, taunting. I never do more then raise my arm, to cover my eyes, I do not want to see. So like that, on my bed of newspaper and trash, I die, my life runs out. But I don’t leave right away. A few days latter, the trail of bodies. The great man, is exposed. Its not a matter of vindication. The nobody and nothing snuffed out in the ally, thats just swept away. No link. But it was done.
And then I see some of the life, before this school, I had forgotten. Same being I guess. Not even like earth. The children, living in the ruins, like Warsaw between the German and soviet invasion. Eating well little, cats and rats were long eaten. Eating even ****, to stay alive. Bodies? Sad. So from here we came. Orphans. I see...it was THIS nun and the male teacher, who found us, who nursed us to “sanity” and then placed us in this school. Where they say we don’t belong. So she saw...no I saw all of that. Then I...she saw with the basket and eggs. She knew. She knew I was struck, and why I cried, and what the other children did, under the teachers, notice, their games which were not games. She grew hard, but not at me. We “looked” to prove. At the other children...how they wasted no time taking what spirit had given us, greedily eating and hiding and sharing t out as rewards for their evil deeds. Now the teacher was upset...sad. She held me in one arm, and went to the male teacher. They touched awareness, and shared again between them. His face went very pale...with seeing. And maybe some shame for believing the others. They conferred what to do. But first, they gave me a basket, with lunch, and a living song, like a book. So I returned to my friends, in our small room And we opened the song, and ate the lunch, and then we lay down to rest, and we were happy.
I was out of dreaming per say for awhile, as I slept, happy. I just felt what happened. The school got empty again, in time. The girl left with the female teacher, for a time not because we were bad, but because we were “good”. The bad students went home for summer as usual. I was here. The male teacher stayed to maintain the schools “reality” needed one always. The lesser teachers leave like the students for the summer. Groundskeepers stay on too. I am a little sad, but I sleep. I know the feeling, I feel when we are apart, the feeling I feel when we all play, is called love. Just me and it and the teacher. I am still, I lay on a bed. I feel the sun, and here the insects of summer. From this I am drawn out again.
Now it snot a school. Now its a glade, a clearing in a forest, on the top of a hill. It is night, and the stars shine with such life above. The constellations are alive. I see the hunter, like a painting. I sit in the circle, by a campfire. The other students, hundreds, are around. Sitting. But they aren’t people. They are like forest sprites, and satyrs. And they all are hostile. Well not all most are indifferent, and many even friendly. But their chiefs are not friendly. The chiefs, the satyrs anyway, dance around with locked hands, around me and the fire. They kick me from time to time with goat feet, but little happens, I kneel impassively. I see from the eyes of the constellation, the hunter. He is the king. I see I wear clothes like of woven tree bark. On the bark clothes, are symbols. I see the rune with three prongs, and many others, alive like burning bark, on my clothes. They kick and kick, and look more afraid. They don’t notice. The nymphs and few satyrs who were behind them, in their kicking circle, have gone and sat down and watch, and hum. Only this small circle remains hostile. They draw closer, and closer, like trying to push me into the fire. Finally they do, they are so close. But then they begin to burn too. But these few, maybe 12, are so determined to do this, hateful, they don’t notice. I look up, and the collapse in, in on the flame, on me, im in the middle. They burn, and shriek, and are gone. I sit n the center of the fire, it feels alive. I look tot he stars, and see they too are fire. And then the flames dwindle. And I sit alone in the center. And I know it is done. And the beings around me now are my friends, or my tribe. Now I wear robes of white and gold, with golden and red flaming runes. I think it looks a bit too much like seen to be an importance thing. The hunter laughs at me nicely with flame in his eye stars. And I wake to write. Fin.
Edit: The one song actually from dream i didnt use was that "amaranth" one but ive posted it enough hehe
Easter Egg Hunt
I only woke once, needing/wanting to record a dream. The latter ones “felt” similar, but before waking I didn’t feel a desire or need to recap or recall them so I let them fade into being impressions and feelings, as opposed to words and stories. When I do that, im left with a different kind of feeling, energy from dreaming. When im recording, or writing, I generally only do so if there is energy from the dream or a specific intent to be written, not sure how to explain but I try and do so every couple posts it seems.
I was almost alone. I do not recall from before, but it seems like it was a hard life, hungry, on edge, never resting easy. There was a girl with me, maybe a bit younger. In not sure if it was sister, or not, it was close but not defined. We were “found” by beings i could not quite remember, and left in a school. It was like a boarding school. When the dream story picked up, I had already been there for years? In sleep. Waking, sleeping, keeping quiet at the edges, going to class. It was full of people younger then me, then one solder...like up to late teens. In the dream, I was no older then 11 or 12 years of age.
The girl and I would often sit, alone, and talk, or read, or stay out of the way of the older children. They had their own social structure and pecking order, big kids and small, loud, and although we were all in uniforms, like at a catholic school, our shoes gave away our “poverty”. That was the one customizable piece of the uniform. We had plain, durable but inexpensive shoes. A bit old. That, and other small details, set people apart. Also we didn’t have the pedigree of “parents” or “where we came from, or big stories about where we were going”. It didn’t seem too bad, we just stayed to ourselves. We had more friends, another girl and a very young little boy. So there were like four of us really. The different people on the fringes. One day, after class, I saw my face in the mirror. It looked like I did, at 11, but my hair was platinum blond or just platinum, one of the girls hair was like this as well I recall, the one I came here with. The other girls hair was brown, and the little boys hair was very blonde but thin.
A holiday came. It was Easter, but there was a spring snowstorm, and the boarding school was cut off for a bit. So the teachers did their best, hosting a holiday for the students. Sometimes they would stay for the students like us who had no home to go too, so there were always some staff on hand. In that way, we were somewhat closer to some of the staff then our fellow students, but that just made us more not isolated form the other students...but again, it was better then before, being afraid for survival itself all the time.
The holiday itself, was magic. Rather then hide eggs, power itself would manifest treats, baskets, eggs. But only for those who looked. So one still had to “hunt” for “power” and “baskets with candy/eggs” some eggs were food, others were like Faberge eggs covered with gems and crystals. So children and teens would scramble, seeking. Small children would go for the candy. Older children would seek food items like eggs or warm bread like cinnamon bread, still steaming. The older children tended to be more greedy, they only would seek the gems covered ones, that’s all they saw of real “value” what the “desired”. Power made them work the hardest for those, and they were in short supply. So the social structure the larger and louder students had came into play. Who was allowed to take what, and if they found it, the “bosses” would take their share, first picks. They didn’t even look, they sent others to look while they counted the returns. I...it was hard. They started organizing even down to the egg and bread level, and soon, they were even controlling the candy. They were careful not to deprive anyone of those things, but they slanted it so that the gifts of power had to go through them, for approval, then THEY were the ones who wee to be thanked by providing what spirit gifted. It made me very sad. I was street, sorta, I knew what was going on, and it wasn’t a harmless game like it seemed to teachers. Or did it? Regardless, my friends were small, or shy, and outside that structure in the school, so we were “allowed” to seek little, and keep nothing. I was not going to stand for that. So I went out, seeking as I do, finding eggs and candy, even a gem egg or two. Put them in a little basket, I asked power for something to hold them in. I was careful only to SEE and FEEL what were gifts for us, and I went to them. Once i understood, I didn’t need to look. When I felt a chocolate rabbit for the little one, it simply materialized in front of me. So then I didn’t really have to look after awhile. When spirit had given us all that it felt was out share, or that we could use, I was happy, the basket was overflowing. I found some bread and egg of “mine” and began eating it as I walked back to my friends. They had found a few things too, out in our side room hat was unused save by us, but as they usually were, they were busy playing dolls and jacks, and avoiding the others. We always used this room, when we were here alone in the summer when the other students had left.
A older girl is there, her job was just to watch us and snitch if we do anything, or leave, to the boss students. She sees me smiling and whistling as I chew my bread and egg, and she grabs my basket. She said I was hoarding, taking all this for myself, not sharing it out to the leader, mayor, for him to decide who is “most deserving” she pulls me by my ear towards the main room with one hand, and snatches the basket away with the other and is quite rough. At first I plead and try to explain, and even try to explain how to see power and just find its gifts directly, I think that was the point after all, not the actual things. But she doesn’t listen, and then the in crowd, when im dragged up tot hem, aren’t listening either.
I try and explain, but it makes them more angry, hostile, hateful in a restrained way. They dump out my basket, and say I had so much, it some then they had all together found, so therefore, I must have TAKEN all from them. I tried to explain again, I only found what was willed for the four of us to find, if they’d only listen they’d each have such a bounty, but one of them smacked me on the face. It turned very red. Then I began to cry in frustration.
This brought a teacher, but also like an older nun type. She always seemed so severe, I hardly ever talked to her she acted....odd around us. But she was always in the background, hovering, once I almost saw her smiling when we were playing dolls. I didn’t like to play dolls, I like dot play swords in the garden by the yew tree, but the girls liked to play dolls sometimes and to be honest I sorta liked it too sometimes. Sometimes that nun/teacher would hover and listen to the stories we made for the dolls, not quite paying attention but I could tell she was. So she seemed OK. She was always here. So then the other students pronounced their judgement on me, and us, being greedy. They Said my face was red because I got so mad being asked to share. Not because they struck me. That i cried tears of greed for the loss of my stolen treats. I tried to yell, thats not true! You struck me, and you steal from my friends, and the little ones! But as soon as I spoke the nun gave me a stern, penetrating look. Then a male teacher came and listened to their story, and seemed to buy into it. He turned a cool eye on me. The other students said “they simply don’t belong, they aren’t the right sort of people at all” the male teacher looked hard at me. The head student took the basket, and the others went back to their dividing and seeking games. The teachers spoke about “grave concerns” but i was so broken in spirit now I hardly listened. I sat facing a wall, and slumped my head and silently sobbed.
The nun teacher I could feel behind me, it had gone quiet save for my sobs. “Look at me” she commanded. I looked up and turned around, seeing her through tear streaked eyes. She was emanating light, it reminded me of when the when I saw the sun through my almost closed eyes. Very energetic. I of course remembered my life here, this age, this place, but it was like one of the stories...infact it WAS one of the stories, we acted out with the dolls in play, so it was like a life imagined, my knowing of self, here, me, this age. So I looked up at her, my eyes must have held more sadness, or grief, then I would have thought, and it wasn’t because of the treats or basket. It was the rest of it. The teacher looked into my eyes. Then there was no separation between us, she was I and I was her, but I wasn’t aware, so mostly she was me...I saw. I saw so much. I saw stories.
I am in another world. I am a hobo? A homeless man? Something like that. I sleep on a bed of cardboard and have only my rags to keep me warm. But im like I am now, I can see. There is a man, a man who lives in a gleaming tower in a city. I see, people, women sometimes go up to his tower. Then I see, a day latter, bundles tied, trash bags, left in a dumpster in the ally. Im just the homeless man, so he doesn’t thing to see if I can see. He looks young, but I look again. He is like a mannequin, around the joints are floating rings like razor wire, and the eyes seem dead, cold. But outside, he is a warm man, a handsome man. Children and police, women trust and like him. But im not fooled. I sleep in a trashcan.
Im not so easily deceived it seems. When im sure, about my seeing. I do something to the fence by the dumpster. Something that will interact with his rings, and harm no other. So one night. I pretend to be asleep, I see him, coming out. With a body. He dumps it, then stands and pleasures himself over it by the fense. His arm, with a ring, hits the chain link. It is stuck. Then he gets drawn to the fence like a magnet. He cries in shock, then he sees me. Sleeping on the cardboard, looking. He screams, he curses,
he promises wealth and such, free me! I demand it! Or you will be cursed. My face curls back, not a laugh, or a smile, A look like animal, teeth bared. A snarl perhaps. I have like 4 teeth. And then, slowly, that thing, that man dies. The fence you see, the rings, it shifted them, his form is cut, his invulnerable form. On the outside, it looks like he was hung from the fence. But really it is the rings.
I see latter. The police find him, it is in all the headlines. This great man. Killed by a filthy transient. I am never taken to trial, the police beat me to death in the ally, slowly, mocking, taunting. I never do more then raise my arm, to cover my eyes, I do not want to see. So like that, on my bed of newspaper and trash, I die, my life runs out. But I don’t leave right away. A few days latter, the trail of bodies. The great man, is exposed. Its not a matter of vindication. The nobody and nothing snuffed out in the ally, thats just swept away. No link. But it was done.
And then I see some of the life, before this school, I had forgotten. Same being I guess. Not even like earth. The children, living in the ruins, like Warsaw between the German and soviet invasion. Eating well little, cats and rats were long eaten. Eating even ****, to stay alive. Bodies? Sad. So from here we came. Orphans. I see...it was THIS nun and the male teacher, who found us, who nursed us to “sanity” and then placed us in this school. Where they say we don’t belong. So she saw...no I saw all of that. Then I...she saw with the basket and eggs. She knew. She knew I was struck, and why I cried, and what the other children did, under the teachers, notice, their games which were not games. She grew hard, but not at me. We “looked” to prove. At the other children...how they wasted no time taking what spirit had given us, greedily eating and hiding and sharing t out as rewards for their evil deeds. Now the teacher was upset...sad. She held me in one arm, and went to the male teacher. They touched awareness, and shared again between them. His face went very pale...with seeing. And maybe some shame for believing the others. They conferred what to do. But first, they gave me a basket, with lunch, and a living song, like a book. So I returned to my friends, in our small room And we opened the song, and ate the lunch, and then we lay down to rest, and we were happy.
I was out of dreaming per say for awhile, as I slept, happy. I just felt what happened. The school got empty again, in time. The girl left with the female teacher, for a time not because we were bad, but because we were “good”. The bad students went home for summer as usual. I was here. The male teacher stayed to maintain the schools “reality” needed one always. The lesser teachers leave like the students for the summer. Groundskeepers stay on too. I am a little sad, but I sleep. I know the feeling, I feel when we are apart, the feeling I feel when we all play, is called love. Just me and it and the teacher. I am still, I lay on a bed. I feel the sun, and here the insects of summer. From this I am drawn out again.
Now it snot a school. Now its a glade, a clearing in a forest, on the top of a hill. It is night, and the stars shine with such life above. The constellations are alive. I see the hunter, like a painting. I sit in the circle, by a campfire. The other students, hundreds, are around. Sitting. But they aren’t people. They are like forest sprites, and satyrs. And they all are hostile. Well not all most are indifferent, and many even friendly. But their chiefs are not friendly. The chiefs, the satyrs anyway, dance around with locked hands, around me and the fire. They kick me from time to time with goat feet, but little happens, I kneel impassively. I see from the eyes of the constellation, the hunter. He is the king. I see I wear clothes like of woven tree bark. On the bark clothes, are symbols. I see the rune with three prongs, and many others, alive like burning bark, on my clothes. They kick and kick, and look more afraid. They don’t notice. The nymphs and few satyrs who were behind them, in their kicking circle, have gone and sat down and watch, and hum. Only this small circle remains hostile. They draw closer, and closer, like trying to push me into the fire. Finally they do, they are so close. But then they begin to burn too. But these few, maybe 12, are so determined to do this, hateful, they don’t notice. I look up, and the collapse in, in on the flame, on me, im in the middle. They burn, and shriek, and are gone. I sit n the center of the fire, it feels alive. I look tot he stars, and see they too are fire. And then the flames dwindle. And I sit alone in the center. And I know it is done. And the beings around me now are my friends, or my tribe. Now I wear robes of white and gold, with golden and red flaming runes. I think it looks a bit too much like seen to be an importance thing. The hunter laughs at me nicely with flame in his eye stars. And I wake to write. Fin.
Edit: The one song actually from dream i didnt use was that "amaranth" one but ive posted it enough hehe