09-27-2012, 12:01 AM
9/20-21/12
Tabula Rasa
I began dreaming in a sunlight glade, at the base of some mountains. A glacier was high above, and clouds formed wall across the top of the mountains angular peak. The sun filled the sky, late afternoon, bathing all in a warm, golden light. It was fall, but in this glade, at the foot of this great mountain, it was spring. There was a camp, around the mountain, where great men like titans, but I thought perhaps gods, (The quality of the image reminded me artistically of the picture ( ) posted earlier in my thread) were hunting stags and boars. There is was fall. But this glade, was eternal spring, because it is always spring, around the one who made her solitary camp, for her own reasons, temporarily here. She was close. I traveled to the edge of the glade, and through a rock gate, a wall of cold snow, a blizzard. Through that, I was not appropriately dressed. To a land like Iceland in winter. There were paw prints in the snow. Cats. Large Cats. And chariot wheels it looked like. I was looking for my black cat baba, but I couldn’t remember if it was baba or ( ), but it didn’t matter. She had him, pulling the chariot.
And then I am pulled, I am looking at the dream internet and these forums, but without a screen. I had posted several questions to someone, three I labeled 1, 2 and three. The person I addressed was responding, ( ), bu not in the tonal. My questions had more around them on this side. I never saw him, he was communicating through the forums representation. Like a layer between. But he said of course he would always answer good questions. He had written some and I read it. He asked me to explain something. I looked to type, but no, I saw carbon paper. The white with the yellow one underneath that gets imprinted on. I only had several pencils missing the lead, which would write on the carbon, but not the white copy for me. This made knowing what I wrote if it the words formed write difficult. It is difficult to write, especially without a keyboard, and read in dreams. So id write a few letters, lift the carbon paper to see if the letters were formed correctly, write a few more. It took allot of focus, and I was pulled back to the other place. It went on like this for some time, completely pulled back tot he writing, or the magic place.
I am back in the magic place. Freyja...i missed her again trying to write. The cat prints were old, and I was turning as blue as the jotin she was hunting. I returned to her spring camp. And warmed myself next to a ball of living flame, that was the sun. As I thawed, I thought bout what i was looking for. Just to see my cats who had passed, lots of them. And to hunt...i had a sword and a spear, I wished to hunt...what she was hunting. I was full of purpose. But mostly to see the cats. Time did not really move. I knew when she had killed some ice giants, because the cold wall would retreat more from the magic glade, and it would get just a bit nicer. She was securing her campground. In time I grew restless, so I found a lute? It was on my back. I began to strum. I was inspired to play a song, and sing to the spring. It was, funny enough, Stairway to heaven by led zeppelin. I would pause when I got to lyrics that had more meaning for me recently. (Insert feeling of leaving part)
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
then im pulled back to the other place, because ( ) is communicating again. What I managed to write was “About the first rule, what is” And to this, he wrote in energy in response “there is only the one rule, and what it is is what it is”. I pondered that for a bit, and began formulating response. It wasn’t exactly what i was going to ask, but id work with it, this type of writing, like etching was hard. I got smart, and got a secondary notebook I could write one easily, and filled margins with responses, and tried to boil it down to one easy to write. Short. Before I could, im pulled back to the glade again.
My hand had stopped mid strum. Now I was hungry. I was sitting in a stool chair, brightly colored...folding cloth center thing. Somebody had set out a platter for me. Figs, nuts, a bit of honey cake. A pitcher with some frothy mead. Beyond that, there was a boar, and a stag roasting, and a plate and eating dagger left for me. I knew it was fine if I ate of them, so I ate a small bit from each food, and drank, and felt refreshed. I saw a small sword, and a hunting bow laid against a larger throne like chair, so I knew the hunter had returned, and u felt cats around. But I wanted to finish singing. I suppose that’s why I was there, other then to hunt. So I continued with stairway to heaven. (insert bustle in your hedgerow part) The warmth, and the food, a sound like humming bees, faint, or a hummingbirds wings.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
Im pulled back tot he dream forum. I see ( ) had left. He told me something about he was also looking at DNA mutations? A documentary, and was now awake. He seemed annoyed perhaps all the time this took, but my attention was literally split between tasks, so I didn’t do either one very well I suppose. He asked me about the “old mother”. I said something she said about him, the hunter lady, I had seen her face at some point and forgotten then. Perhaps it was from another time. Old did not mean age. Also, as I have it in my notes, I said that she was preparing me, out of proper space. Im not sure now what that means. I think perhaps where i kept going back and forth too. After I managed to communicate this, a wonderful magic thing happened. The energy that would be like forums posts, and the paper, it turned to stone. Like a large stone tablet at an angle. Instead of words, their were pictogram s, runes at the top. I could read. Them. Sun, moon, an arrow. It was everything caught and put to stone. I saw in the dream somebody else had responded to what I asked, but indirectly, in another “thread” This was the case, when I woke and checked, as I saw it. In tonal. But the one I asked only responded in dreams. Once it was set in stone, (it was like block used to print pamphlets) it grew small and vanished, the whole setting vanished, and I was again in the springtime glade.
I finished the song. The part (insert wind on down the road) I paused, on, because it had some meaning in regards to my shadow gazing of the past few nights...12 am, 1am, standing in the light of an open door, seeing myself through the long shadow it casts. Seeing what casts it. I was done. I put away my lute. When I looked in front of me, there was a new spear and sword. Not the ones i manifest with myself. Both very wonderful, covered in living runes of fire that moved. Just the things for slaying icy foes. I took this to mean it was time for me to hunt with the hostess. So the one s manifest dissolved back into me, and I took the new weapons, with a joyful heart. I stepped through a pavilion door (a pavilion had been erected around me when the food was left, and the last thing I recall from this part was a joyous sound like laughter, or music. During this whole back and forth, I had woken partially at least three times to take notes. One thing I noted. My sense of smell was off the charts. I could smell the cold from the air conditioner. The smell of my body. Smell of first the moon, and then the sun, on the roof over my head. Almost cant explain. After i left the pavilion, more time passed, and a I woke again, but my recall dissolved into magic when I left the tent. But I had..smells and tastes and feelings. Cant write them. I smelled the paper I wrote on, along with feeling it. Im not sure i ever opened my eyes to see the page, I just saw it.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all is one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
After some time, I was with my father, and his brother who had died two years before him. Unlike in life, they were comfortable together, at peace. Their mother, my grandmother, who died a few years before either of them was there, and their sister who died when I was five. We were all in a car. My dad was excited about something artistic, his bother about carpentry, and their sister about dancing.
There mother, my grandmother, who was a stern old one room schoolhouse teacher in her past, was talking about all the children, to teach, some who never learned anything in life. Never had the chance, so they were held in between, with those that serve and also had more to learn. This was a specific layer of energy i was in as I saw it. I had much of the feast, from the springtime pavilion, to share, we sat out on a blanket, under an oak tree, and I played a song again, but something new and original, for them. My father had much wonderful, artistic insight about my tonal existence, and existence in general, so I was appreciative for that perspective. Then, that second meal was done, and I needed to leave them again and return to other places.
I am in the familiar dream “hospital” Its not always what it seems, some rooms open to vast auditoriums for performances, etc. To me it is a place of rest, not confinement. This time, I saw it as a “mental hospital”. I had a private room, although not specifically as a patient. There are other wings, like hotels. Or so I told myself. I walked the rounds, it was closing, I saw no staff, so I took it on myself to check medication levels, make sure nurses were at their posts. To shoo patients to bed and say goodnight, I even tucked one elderly man in and gave his forehead a kiss goodnight. Had a clipboard.
But then, a man and a women came and did everything I had done. And there was a guard walking with them. I stopped them, and told them I already had done everything, it seemed empty. They smiled and thanked me politely, but suggested it wasn’t my job. I said yes, but it can be, I am as highly educated as you are, and capable...well...i haven’t finished my last degree yet but im taking the classes again...so that’s almost the same. In a laughing manner. They were very open, no reaction bad energy, but they were firm on it. I didn’t work there, in that role, all of that, as eloquently as I stated it aside, with a smile. The guard tapped me on the shoulder, said I had someplace else to be, yes? I know him, a big guy but hes nice. So I laughed said ohh...yea...i was avoiding it. But i actually was confused a bit about what things were, but in a relaxed sort of way.
Im sitting like at a meeting table, in a break room. Theres even a water cooler. White linoleum floors, particle board ceiling. Fits the setting. I see everyboody From ( ) here. Or lots of us anyway. ( ) is speaking, hes quite animated. Hes standing, using his hands. Hes saying something like “the inexplicable waves of effervescent bubbles of awareness spiral out of the alabaster and ivory walls of creation” Been speaking awhile. Sounds good to me. But im looking around and peoples expressions vary from “I dig it” to “WTF”. I see ( ) with a pinched look on her face, shes taking notes trying to chart the meaning. She asks a question and the answer is like that and shes writing.
Then like before, im pulled like in the spring glade. Its not the guard, its like a nurse? He seems quite agitated with me. He has a long speech about my fundamental shortcomings, or my way of being, and is diagnosing? An dim just listening, nodding my head. Saying “good point!” etc. This actually makes him annoyed, more and more, my head nodding and laughing. No! No! Im saying its not good! I say sadly, yea, I suck! And am genuinely amused. Then he kinda loses it with me, pulls his hair out. “Look at you! Look at you! Your not bothered by anything I say, you went and closed the shift for the night...and you are a patient! Or should be! MY GOD MAN, YOUR NOT EVEN WEARING ANY PANTS! I laughed said yea, well, its casual Friday, and I didn’t know how to dress half as formal, so I figured A double breasted jacket and tie, and no pants just boxers, was half as formal, so it works...is it not so? And I winked and laughed. “No it doesn’t work!!!” First off, your wearing the jacket...a coat that is ( ) in it.….you have it buttoned around your neck inside out, like a poncho, and you don’t even have a shirt on underneath! The tie, is wrapped around your head and you wrote “Tastes like chicken” On it with lipstick. He said that i simply assume my insanity is OK?Km that im equivalent, but im not, hes CORRECT and I am WRONG, and ive not faced my issues if i cant see it!!! So I responded with a long story. I said “Do you want my coat? You can have it I have a closet full of them...get them custom made by a guy in Venice. Here, ill put it on you, inside out, shiny silk showing! I wasn’t even being sarcastic. I didn’t understand what he was mad about. Bu the had turned white, and was quivering with rage, like he was about to explode.
I got pulled back to the meeting, and now ( ) is speaking. And ( ) is taking notes, but not really, hes drawing army guys shooting at each other and wrote “omg PWNED” and making X’s for eyes. Damn it looks like fun I want to play too. But hes also listening.
Im pulled back to the doctors office room. Its another “helper” ive seen before Less high strung then that last guy. He had the coat I put on the guy, and he puts it back on me as I had it. I said “wheres the new guy, I liked him, he brought up some good points”. The replacement looks in my eyes and laughs, but is very neutral. He tells me he did not pass the real employment interview (seeing if he could handle me? Lol) Then he says “on an entirely related note, when next you decide to stay here, you will have a new roommate. Please don’t give him the keys to the building, he wont be going anywhere for along time. I responded in a Tweety voice. “I go through more puddy cats that way” and held my pinky to my mouth like Dr evil (Austin powers), and laughed.
And im back at the meeting. Hours have passed, this conversation had been going back and forth it seems for quite awhile. ( ) is talking, and I see the energy from it, ( ) is explaining exactly. I listen closely to this part. She says “You think im being creative, but im NOT creative, not with this, not in this. Its not creativity, its principals, like how things are structured. (words). Creativity is a good thing, but if every person creatively made their own language, no one could speak share at all. Thats why I try to find common principals, then build from those, not because i love plodding along". People are equally getting, or not getting, what shes saying as much as they were or were not with ( ). ( ) seems frustrated, and worn low in energy. ( ) seems tired, he gets up and walks to a pitcher of water and pours it, and wipes his forehead. I’m thinking I had the fun thing getting pulled out so many times. I was doodling too, but I drew what the words said. Those were my notes, a pictogram. I was looking at ( )'s mouth as she talked, time seemed to slow, or something. It looked like a lopsided O at one point, and she had a look on her face. Like oh no. Sens about to be “interesting”. I said, that was very well said, because of and is tarted rattling things off fast. I started using my hands to talk, then stopped talking, because i was catching all the energy, from everybody talking, and saying see! See! Look how it all fits together, its inspiration, and contemplation, words and vision. And I got quite animated. I took a second to appreciate, that the second doctor guy, was kind enough to dress me properly before I jumped up and started walking around. For my turn to speak, I don’t want to speak I said. I want to go...to the river! We can see it better a the river. And we all kinda flew in a rush, to a familiar river. A city with a new bridge across to an old town. I went farther. A large river. But then we grew and grew, so walking to the middle was only waste deep...it was like a small creek or stream. The sun! A beautiful music, a deeply spiritual moment. I was putting together all the talking in dream energy. I can really explain this part. A video will.
Latter, it is as a game. I am a city watchman, or a watcher over a city. A city on an island, Venice like I mentioned i laughed. But its sinking. The royal lines are tangled. Conflict. So I pull my own. I mean I pull my own people energy, and build another city, a islands in a lake, a lake on a large island. Rings, like Atlantis in pictures sorta. I build, someone helps me build, I grows, in time. But again, like a game. Gold is the color, like the light in the springtime glade. I pull people. A king,a queen, governors, ministers. Its chart like a chain of governance. thAts the 2 dimensional chart. There are chart sin time...to the next ruler, and next, I am selecting human energy for each, until the time the city needs to die. Gold...i see their portraits in gold, and connectors. For one son, three generations down, no wife. Auditions, in a temple. Spirits come and dance, different colors, purple and blue, orange and green, their skin is their color, so we can select one to be incarnated, to fill that wife role. That son, son of kinks, three generations in, has a very rarefied energy only a spirit can en kindle a baby from it. But its important. For continuity of the game city.
Latter im in the city, at some point in its existence, not the very start, maybe halfway in its life. My “mother” of gold light, is the boss. But I don’t always listen, I change my perspective to fit the times. Roll with the changes. There is, in this point, a murder in the city. Of an important person. I become a watchman, or an investigator, captain of the guard. I investigate the murder. I solve the murder. Lightning. Lightning from the horizon. The people, they tell me, hide, it will kill you. I say “it will just mostly kill me” It strikes me on my shoe, and arcs through my body, which changes into three balls hanging in the sky massive. Then they merge, and turn into a glitter like fireworks, that bathes the city in light. Im fine, I just wanted to leave, and thats how it could be done. The city had become too real, in space and time, a world. Its harder to leave worlds then dreams of worlds.
I am at home, my siblings are with me. My father is coming to visit, from the dead, or maybe we came to visit him. We are cleaning, vacuuming, getting ready. We had been eating take out. I want to cook meals he liked. I need many Mexican things I don’t have. Everyday, I saw two buses. One came from Mexico, with guest workers, to pick fruit and vegetables. One went somewhere else, and some of the people transferred. I was afraid to approach one to ask. But this day, I did. A man who looked like the guy in the “born in east la” video, who thinks the phone is Jesus talking, got off the bus. I said I needed help to make my father, gave his name, a special meal. He volunteered, as a helper, not a day laborer. He came to the home, and picked fruit and vegetables that had grown from seed. I needed nopales, to make the soup stock. For posole (a type of pork stew with homeny corn and cactus pad) He knew how to prepare the cactus pads, so he did that. He said it was an honor to help prepare my father a meal that brings him comfort. And he showed me how to cook it. I said thank you in Spanish. He said, oh, we have not been speaking Spanish, don’t you know? He said something I cant remember, something about the ( ) tribe, but not directly. Then, he turned to a great wolf, greater then one would think in stature from his human form, and smiled, and ran off, into the trees, and south, to the mountains of central Mexico. I could see him leave, all the way, because i could see from high. Fin.
Tabula Rasa
I began dreaming in a sunlight glade, at the base of some mountains. A glacier was high above, and clouds formed wall across the top of the mountains angular peak. The sun filled the sky, late afternoon, bathing all in a warm, golden light. It was fall, but in this glade, at the foot of this great mountain, it was spring. There was a camp, around the mountain, where great men like titans, but I thought perhaps gods, (The quality of the image reminded me artistically of the picture ( ) posted earlier in my thread) were hunting stags and boars. There is was fall. But this glade, was eternal spring, because it is always spring, around the one who made her solitary camp, for her own reasons, temporarily here. She was close. I traveled to the edge of the glade, and through a rock gate, a wall of cold snow, a blizzard. Through that, I was not appropriately dressed. To a land like Iceland in winter. There were paw prints in the snow. Cats. Large Cats. And chariot wheels it looked like. I was looking for my black cat baba, but I couldn’t remember if it was baba or ( ), but it didn’t matter. She had him, pulling the chariot.
And then I am pulled, I am looking at the dream internet and these forums, but without a screen. I had posted several questions to someone, three I labeled 1, 2 and three. The person I addressed was responding, ( ), bu not in the tonal. My questions had more around them on this side. I never saw him, he was communicating through the forums representation. Like a layer between. But he said of course he would always answer good questions. He had written some and I read it. He asked me to explain something. I looked to type, but no, I saw carbon paper. The white with the yellow one underneath that gets imprinted on. I only had several pencils missing the lead, which would write on the carbon, but not the white copy for me. This made knowing what I wrote if it the words formed write difficult. It is difficult to write, especially without a keyboard, and read in dreams. So id write a few letters, lift the carbon paper to see if the letters were formed correctly, write a few more. It took allot of focus, and I was pulled back to the other place. It went on like this for some time, completely pulled back tot he writing, or the magic place.
I am back in the magic place. Freyja...i missed her again trying to write. The cat prints were old, and I was turning as blue as the jotin she was hunting. I returned to her spring camp. And warmed myself next to a ball of living flame, that was the sun. As I thawed, I thought bout what i was looking for. Just to see my cats who had passed, lots of them. And to hunt...i had a sword and a spear, I wished to hunt...what she was hunting. I was full of purpose. But mostly to see the cats. Time did not really move. I knew when she had killed some ice giants, because the cold wall would retreat more from the magic glade, and it would get just a bit nicer. She was securing her campground. In time I grew restless, so I found a lute? It was on my back. I began to strum. I was inspired to play a song, and sing to the spring. It was, funny enough, Stairway to heaven by led zeppelin. I would pause when I got to lyrics that had more meaning for me recently. (Insert feeling of leaving part)
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.
Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.
then im pulled back to the other place, because ( ) is communicating again. What I managed to write was “About the first rule, what is” And to this, he wrote in energy in response “there is only the one rule, and what it is is what it is”. I pondered that for a bit, and began formulating response. It wasn’t exactly what i was going to ask, but id work with it, this type of writing, like etching was hard. I got smart, and got a secondary notebook I could write one easily, and filled margins with responses, and tried to boil it down to one easy to write. Short. Before I could, im pulled back to the glade again.
My hand had stopped mid strum. Now I was hungry. I was sitting in a stool chair, brightly colored...folding cloth center thing. Somebody had set out a platter for me. Figs, nuts, a bit of honey cake. A pitcher with some frothy mead. Beyond that, there was a boar, and a stag roasting, and a plate and eating dagger left for me. I knew it was fine if I ate of them, so I ate a small bit from each food, and drank, and felt refreshed. I saw a small sword, and a hunting bow laid against a larger throne like chair, so I knew the hunter had returned, and u felt cats around. But I wanted to finish singing. I suppose that’s why I was there, other then to hunt. So I continued with stairway to heaven. (insert bustle in your hedgerow part) The warmth, and the food, a sound like humming bees, faint, or a hummingbirds wings.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.
Im pulled back tot he dream forum. I see ( ) had left. He told me something about he was also looking at DNA mutations? A documentary, and was now awake. He seemed annoyed perhaps all the time this took, but my attention was literally split between tasks, so I didn’t do either one very well I suppose. He asked me about the “old mother”. I said something she said about him, the hunter lady, I had seen her face at some point and forgotten then. Perhaps it was from another time. Old did not mean age. Also, as I have it in my notes, I said that she was preparing me, out of proper space. Im not sure now what that means. I think perhaps where i kept going back and forth too. After I managed to communicate this, a wonderful magic thing happened. The energy that would be like forums posts, and the paper, it turned to stone. Like a large stone tablet at an angle. Instead of words, their were pictogram s, runes at the top. I could read. Them. Sun, moon, an arrow. It was everything caught and put to stone. I saw in the dream somebody else had responded to what I asked, but indirectly, in another “thread” This was the case, when I woke and checked, as I saw it. In tonal. But the one I asked only responded in dreams. Once it was set in stone, (it was like block used to print pamphlets) it grew small and vanished, the whole setting vanished, and I was again in the springtime glade.
I finished the song. The part (insert wind on down the road) I paused, on, because it had some meaning in regards to my shadow gazing of the past few nights...12 am, 1am, standing in the light of an open door, seeing myself through the long shadow it casts. Seeing what casts it. I was done. I put away my lute. When I looked in front of me, there was a new spear and sword. Not the ones i manifest with myself. Both very wonderful, covered in living runes of fire that moved. Just the things for slaying icy foes. I took this to mean it was time for me to hunt with the hostess. So the one s manifest dissolved back into me, and I took the new weapons, with a joyful heart. I stepped through a pavilion door (a pavilion had been erected around me when the food was left, and the last thing I recall from this part was a joyous sound like laughter, or music. During this whole back and forth, I had woken partially at least three times to take notes. One thing I noted. My sense of smell was off the charts. I could smell the cold from the air conditioner. The smell of my body. Smell of first the moon, and then the sun, on the roof over my head. Almost cant explain. After i left the pavilion, more time passed, and a I woke again, but my recall dissolved into magic when I left the tent. But I had..smells and tastes and feelings. Cant write them. I smelled the paper I wrote on, along with feeling it. Im not sure i ever opened my eyes to see the page, I just saw it.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all is one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.
After some time, I was with my father, and his brother who had died two years before him. Unlike in life, they were comfortable together, at peace. Their mother, my grandmother, who died a few years before either of them was there, and their sister who died when I was five. We were all in a car. My dad was excited about something artistic, his bother about carpentry, and their sister about dancing.
There mother, my grandmother, who was a stern old one room schoolhouse teacher in her past, was talking about all the children, to teach, some who never learned anything in life. Never had the chance, so they were held in between, with those that serve and also had more to learn. This was a specific layer of energy i was in as I saw it. I had much of the feast, from the springtime pavilion, to share, we sat out on a blanket, under an oak tree, and I played a song again, but something new and original, for them. My father had much wonderful, artistic insight about my tonal existence, and existence in general, so I was appreciative for that perspective. Then, that second meal was done, and I needed to leave them again and return to other places.
I am in the familiar dream “hospital” Its not always what it seems, some rooms open to vast auditoriums for performances, etc. To me it is a place of rest, not confinement. This time, I saw it as a “mental hospital”. I had a private room, although not specifically as a patient. There are other wings, like hotels. Or so I told myself. I walked the rounds, it was closing, I saw no staff, so I took it on myself to check medication levels, make sure nurses were at their posts. To shoo patients to bed and say goodnight, I even tucked one elderly man in and gave his forehead a kiss goodnight. Had a clipboard.
But then, a man and a women came and did everything I had done. And there was a guard walking with them. I stopped them, and told them I already had done everything, it seemed empty. They smiled and thanked me politely, but suggested it wasn’t my job. I said yes, but it can be, I am as highly educated as you are, and capable...well...i haven’t finished my last degree yet but im taking the classes again...so that’s almost the same. In a laughing manner. They were very open, no reaction bad energy, but they were firm on it. I didn’t work there, in that role, all of that, as eloquently as I stated it aside, with a smile. The guard tapped me on the shoulder, said I had someplace else to be, yes? I know him, a big guy but hes nice. So I laughed said ohh...yea...i was avoiding it. But i actually was confused a bit about what things were, but in a relaxed sort of way.
Im sitting like at a meeting table, in a break room. Theres even a water cooler. White linoleum floors, particle board ceiling. Fits the setting. I see everyboody From ( ) here. Or lots of us anyway. ( ) is speaking, hes quite animated. Hes standing, using his hands. Hes saying something like “the inexplicable waves of effervescent bubbles of awareness spiral out of the alabaster and ivory walls of creation” Been speaking awhile. Sounds good to me. But im looking around and peoples expressions vary from “I dig it” to “WTF”. I see ( ) with a pinched look on her face, shes taking notes trying to chart the meaning. She asks a question and the answer is like that and shes writing.
Then like before, im pulled like in the spring glade. Its not the guard, its like a nurse? He seems quite agitated with me. He has a long speech about my fundamental shortcomings, or my way of being, and is diagnosing? An dim just listening, nodding my head. Saying “good point!” etc. This actually makes him annoyed, more and more, my head nodding and laughing. No! No! Im saying its not good! I say sadly, yea, I suck! And am genuinely amused. Then he kinda loses it with me, pulls his hair out. “Look at you! Look at you! Your not bothered by anything I say, you went and closed the shift for the night...and you are a patient! Or should be! MY GOD MAN, YOUR NOT EVEN WEARING ANY PANTS! I laughed said yea, well, its casual Friday, and I didn’t know how to dress half as formal, so I figured A double breasted jacket and tie, and no pants just boxers, was half as formal, so it works...is it not so? And I winked and laughed. “No it doesn’t work!!!” First off, your wearing the jacket...a coat that is ( ) in it.….you have it buttoned around your neck inside out, like a poncho, and you don’t even have a shirt on underneath! The tie, is wrapped around your head and you wrote “Tastes like chicken” On it with lipstick. He said that i simply assume my insanity is OK?Km that im equivalent, but im not, hes CORRECT and I am WRONG, and ive not faced my issues if i cant see it!!! So I responded with a long story. I said “Do you want my coat? You can have it I have a closet full of them...get them custom made by a guy in Venice. Here, ill put it on you, inside out, shiny silk showing! I wasn’t even being sarcastic. I didn’t understand what he was mad about. Bu the had turned white, and was quivering with rage, like he was about to explode.
I got pulled back to the meeting, and now ( ) is speaking. And ( ) is taking notes, but not really, hes drawing army guys shooting at each other and wrote “omg PWNED” and making X’s for eyes. Damn it looks like fun I want to play too. But hes also listening.
Im pulled back to the doctors office room. Its another “helper” ive seen before Less high strung then that last guy. He had the coat I put on the guy, and he puts it back on me as I had it. I said “wheres the new guy, I liked him, he brought up some good points”. The replacement looks in my eyes and laughs, but is very neutral. He tells me he did not pass the real employment interview (seeing if he could handle me? Lol) Then he says “on an entirely related note, when next you decide to stay here, you will have a new roommate. Please don’t give him the keys to the building, he wont be going anywhere for along time. I responded in a Tweety voice. “I go through more puddy cats that way” and held my pinky to my mouth like Dr evil (Austin powers), and laughed.
And im back at the meeting. Hours have passed, this conversation had been going back and forth it seems for quite awhile. ( ) is talking, and I see the energy from it, ( ) is explaining exactly. I listen closely to this part. She says “You think im being creative, but im NOT creative, not with this, not in this. Its not creativity, its principals, like how things are structured. (words). Creativity is a good thing, but if every person creatively made their own language, no one could speak share at all. Thats why I try to find common principals, then build from those, not because i love plodding along". People are equally getting, or not getting, what shes saying as much as they were or were not with ( ). ( ) seems frustrated, and worn low in energy. ( ) seems tired, he gets up and walks to a pitcher of water and pours it, and wipes his forehead. I’m thinking I had the fun thing getting pulled out so many times. I was doodling too, but I drew what the words said. Those were my notes, a pictogram. I was looking at ( )'s mouth as she talked, time seemed to slow, or something. It looked like a lopsided O at one point, and she had a look on her face. Like oh no. Sens about to be “interesting”. I said, that was very well said, because of and is tarted rattling things off fast. I started using my hands to talk, then stopped talking, because i was catching all the energy, from everybody talking, and saying see! See! Look how it all fits together, its inspiration, and contemplation, words and vision. And I got quite animated. I took a second to appreciate, that the second doctor guy, was kind enough to dress me properly before I jumped up and started walking around. For my turn to speak, I don’t want to speak I said. I want to go...to the river! We can see it better a the river. And we all kinda flew in a rush, to a familiar river. A city with a new bridge across to an old town. I went farther. A large river. But then we grew and grew, so walking to the middle was only waste deep...it was like a small creek or stream. The sun! A beautiful music, a deeply spiritual moment. I was putting together all the talking in dream energy. I can really explain this part. A video will.
Latter, it is as a game. I am a city watchman, or a watcher over a city. A city on an island, Venice like I mentioned i laughed. But its sinking. The royal lines are tangled. Conflict. So I pull my own. I mean I pull my own people energy, and build another city, a islands in a lake, a lake on a large island. Rings, like Atlantis in pictures sorta. I build, someone helps me build, I grows, in time. But again, like a game. Gold is the color, like the light in the springtime glade. I pull people. A king,a queen, governors, ministers. Its chart like a chain of governance. thAts the 2 dimensional chart. There are chart sin time...to the next ruler, and next, I am selecting human energy for each, until the time the city needs to die. Gold...i see their portraits in gold, and connectors. For one son, three generations down, no wife. Auditions, in a temple. Spirits come and dance, different colors, purple and blue, orange and green, their skin is their color, so we can select one to be incarnated, to fill that wife role. That son, son of kinks, three generations in, has a very rarefied energy only a spirit can en kindle a baby from it. But its important. For continuity of the game city.
Latter im in the city, at some point in its existence, not the very start, maybe halfway in its life. My “mother” of gold light, is the boss. But I don’t always listen, I change my perspective to fit the times. Roll with the changes. There is, in this point, a murder in the city. Of an important person. I become a watchman, or an investigator, captain of the guard. I investigate the murder. I solve the murder. Lightning. Lightning from the horizon. The people, they tell me, hide, it will kill you. I say “it will just mostly kill me” It strikes me on my shoe, and arcs through my body, which changes into three balls hanging in the sky massive. Then they merge, and turn into a glitter like fireworks, that bathes the city in light. Im fine, I just wanted to leave, and thats how it could be done. The city had become too real, in space and time, a world. Its harder to leave worlds then dreams of worlds.
I am at home, my siblings are with me. My father is coming to visit, from the dead, or maybe we came to visit him. We are cleaning, vacuuming, getting ready. We had been eating take out. I want to cook meals he liked. I need many Mexican things I don’t have. Everyday, I saw two buses. One came from Mexico, with guest workers, to pick fruit and vegetables. One went somewhere else, and some of the people transferred. I was afraid to approach one to ask. But this day, I did. A man who looked like the guy in the “born in east la” video, who thinks the phone is Jesus talking, got off the bus. I said I needed help to make my father, gave his name, a special meal. He volunteered, as a helper, not a day laborer. He came to the home, and picked fruit and vegetables that had grown from seed. I needed nopales, to make the soup stock. For posole (a type of pork stew with homeny corn and cactus pad) He knew how to prepare the cactus pads, so he did that. He said it was an honor to help prepare my father a meal that brings him comfort. And he showed me how to cook it. I said thank you in Spanish. He said, oh, we have not been speaking Spanish, don’t you know? He said something I cant remember, something about the ( ) tribe, but not directly. Then, he turned to a great wolf, greater then one would think in stature from his human form, and smiled, and ran off, into the trees, and south, to the mountains of central Mexico. I could see him leave, all the way, because i could see from high. Fin.