10-25-2012, 12:01 AM
10/22-23/12
A more complete telling.
Well, im not sure i want to write this. One section anyway. But I did, promise someone, to not self edit or recoil at projected concern at what other people might think or react, to the extent the do, so im going to, as closely to the experience as I can. Really, only one part bothered me, but how I reacted to it...doesn’t bother me. So there is that. And most of it was fine adventures and perception. So...that said.
I’ve had this open for 8 hours. And not been able to write anymore for some reason. So...going to do it 1 2 3 4 style leave most the details out, the wonderful, energetic details that make it alive. I may be getting lazy, or tired, or momentarily wise. I haven’t taken my pick of those options yet. I’m also open to other suggestions. lol.
1. In the sky, the sea of the night, there is nothing but pools of water. And planets. Planets are land, pools of water are the open sky. Stars. The stars are lights in the water. All of the empty space, all the energy flowing, that we see as empty space, is collapsed into a mosaic of planets and pools of water that are full of stars. I am the eye, outside of time, beyond, perceiving this. I want more then anything to see those I love, my friends, and share this vision. From so far, so much, it seems still, and alone. So warm, in the sea of pools and islands of land. So cold, and without color, beyond.
2. To Fly! To be the wing that rides the winds. And the wind, not so cold, not so far, in, not above. To fly on the wings of an eagle, but talons outstretched, carrying the olive branch of a dove. Transport, trick! Beware those that advize one to become a cold, hollow point. Steam parade. The fog, rising, rising, to the stars. Steam from a fence, the dew warmed by the suns rising light. Not the needle...sharp and cold, vainly trying to pierce the veil of heaven like a sharp yet flaccid, empty little phallus. Pelvic thrust, without the reach, is silly. Humph. Steam rises, the rain falls, cold. Both are water. Both fly...one lives in the sky, one falls to the earth. Consider, Sen. Consider.
3. A meal, of freshwater fish, trout perhaps. The meat is sweet, raw? Served on a large leaf. I see my friends, from here, ( ) like ( ) and ( ) and others. This day ( ) cooks, and it is freshwater fish, not pastry or burgers. And friends from not here. We wait, for the dawn to become the day. We steam, and then we rise. Smoke on the water, fire in the sky. The smoke is not burning, is steam, the warmth is the sun...all the stars. It is warmer, inside.
4. Return Someday. Rain.
5. I return. There has been a great flood, like a hurricane. A kind old woman, she opens a shack built on concrete blocks above the muddy swamp of the land. It is painted blue. There is no fema, no national guard, no international relief. Just a single blue hut, for those that might find it. I find it. I am cold, and nude. Having fallen with and as the rain. I find three blankets. I huddle, near a fire, teeth chattering. Two young men, maybe even still teenagers a bit before 20, come in. One has a stick, and another a skateboard or something like that. Black jackets, with patches. They see a man huddled in a blanket, cold. There is no one around. They think to beat him to death, for fun, to consume him. I look up, and with my eyes say please, do not. But they will, and they do...approach. Enough. I have had enough. Games, games games. Permitting such games. They know my real name, somebody from the “inside” told them where to find me “in dreams”. I am not completely nude, I am wearing a (Edited) necklace my (Edited) bought for himself in the event in los angeles. That is what they want, plus the fun of the act.
6. No. I remove my emergency blankets. The first two I snap and bind them still, and in shook. The third, the silver chord, I wrap around their necks, a different end of the blanket in each hand, and pull. And pull, till it cuts head. I pull harder, until there energy sheaths fray and bubble, it adds steam tot he room, I am warmer. No. I make sure they are completely dead. They have three days to live in the tonal (Edit: My perception in dream, certainly not a belief of fact). I enjoy, the sensation of pulling the chord tight, the sheer exertion, deliberate nature of the action. But I am sad. Just because I was not vulnerable, and they couldn’t see that... others would be....had been...vulnerable. Perhaps next time it would be a friend, or a child. Or an elder. They had gotten people here, before, and would have again. Now they would not.
7. I hid the bodies, just empty skins, like old banana peels, under the hut. And took the “warmth” and made myself my familiar clothes. I could have made them from the flame too, if I had been left alone. The old lady returned, and I asked her about the disaster, the past and future, and the city I saw re emerging from the swamp. By the time we were done speaking, the world had aged, recovered, much time had past. She was very kind...she didn’t know about those guys..the hut was to use and move on. Sometimes she meets the people that come. Sometimes she works alone, thinking there was no disaster. But rain always falls, does it not? Sometimes, broken children would just take and consume the men and women, shivering, and alone. To tell her would be to harm her. Best to thank grandmother, and move on.
8. The ones I took, because they wanted to play, not a fun game, like civilization, or Hollywood squares, but rather murder death kill, one had a wife and child, and one a sister. I felt their tears. The mother would die of a broken heart, and the wife would commit suicide. How dare they! Be so evil, so wrong, to do that...and come to their deserved end, and leave those who loved them incomplete, and sad. For them, the mom and wife, and child, I cried. For those people...I CARE. I was waiting for god, or spirits, to reprimand me, for what I did. They did not. They did not care, not like law. I acted legally. Simply taking blows, and spending energy to heal, reform, leave, was also an equally valid choice, but not demanded. I acted differently. But since i didn’t have to heal myself, I could and wanted to do more, for the sad spirits who also were victims of those two. So...I traveled tot he edge of the realm. The border, like a shimmering wall full of spirits. To the border crossing. A small village.
9. At the village, there is a open air market. There I made inquiries. I looked for vendors. Flea market traders. They had, of course, already collected and cured the hides of the two I killed. All the vendors were my friends, faces of people ive known...antique merchants, those types, even a person from an old chat room. When I asked for what I wanted, they said of course our friend. Good to see you. But I traded. I gave 3 cigarettes, tobacco, from my box of cigarettes. They gave me the twos remains. And an extra. They looked like fat marijuana cigarettes. I added these to my box of smokes, and went to cross the border. (Edit: To bring them to their loved ones to smoke) I would take them across, to those that loved them, the third joint...was what they were when they became bad. Changed them from husband and brother, loved by a child, to such low parasitic predators. That was mixed into a third joint. That one I did not put in my pack. I saw an unattended backpack, like a parcel a postman carries for mail, not with a crosser entity. In this I but the third joint, and stood two crosers behind. I did this very sneaky like. Into my pockets, I placed flowers. Herbs. And candy. To fool the dogs if they stuck their nose in my pocket.
10. The joint in the mail parcel was found, and spirits swarmed around it. I was far enough from the parcel I was not questioned. A dog sniffed me, but smelt the sage? And moved on. And I crossed to another energy realm. This was a place, a place those two would never find, never be allowed. Such low awareness was considered a drug here...a bad one. But to me this was different. This was for those that loved them they harmed, to smoke, and breath out, full of their love. To become as they saw them, as they truly were. The deaths I thought might be a crime, were not. This would be considered a crime, but I did not see it so.
11. I briefly find my (Edited) and (Edited), they have a toy helicopter with a camera, they show me...how it can hover and move, and record. What a wonderful toy. They are having fun playing. This part felt nice. But soon I had to go again. First I found my (Edited) necklace, remembered i had it, and when he thanked me, I said it was no trouble at all to bring it...he looked at me with seeing eyes. Im a bad liar. Lol.
12. Somehow it is whispered, that I am a murderer and a drug dealer. Now it is whispered. The weird beautiful blond girl, from so many dreams, from the tomb of the shawabati, is with me. I’m always careful around her, don’t lean in with emotions. Now I see...she is shawabati too. But young, not...self willed as much. She always wants me to declare emotions that would prove im malfunction...like love. So im careful to keep that to myself. For the first time in 15 years, I tell her the reasons for why she does some things, and she pauses. I say but that’s OK, I like you. She is leading me back to the dream hospital. She grabs my arm says...don’t go in. Somebody from somewhere above said your to be...recalled with sanction. I will...”Grasp” the “portal” then you can enter through my arms. I was scared. For this she would be harmed, destroyed. But no, she said, no. I am like you, just not as old. I cant be destroyed, ill find another form...my form has never even yet been alive! Its OK, see? Thank you. When she grasped the door of the hospital, she became like a great robot tiger. I walked under her legs, and into the door.
13. Doctors. Doctors, orderlies. Am the only patient really in this hospital. Others are usually my guests. Drs ignore me. Are discussing their orders. And carefully not noticing me. One guy, an orderly, sorta waves me over. Tells me whats going on. The doctors of course know see all through my eyes. They KNOW what I did and why, why I broke the seals of the border etc. They..agree. Are proud. They have got strange orders...to harm me. They have decided to ignore them. But...they cant touch me or talk. This orderly is a guest...not staff...i think...its ( )? So the deal is, he distracts a doctor, who knows the game but wont look at me so when asked what he saw knew, he knew nothing, saw nothing. I am guided, after one line of site clears after another. To move closer to the door. Eventually, the lines of seeing clear, and I walk out the other side of the hospital. The wake world side. And its done...I look back, from a hill. The war...is so close. The hospital just declared itself its own authority. I see my shawabati friend, who was born of a time when I was betrayed, as part of it, but is now my friend, had been from the start just not been alive enough to know it... the other shawabati, rise, become large. With lazer cannons on its head. The sky boils with flame. Now this place, in dreams, is a nation it accepts no more orders, broke free, in chaos. My god the wars so close...now It is at the very edge of our own tonal world. This is...news.
14. Life reviews for many, including me. UFO/abduction lucid feeling. Is just awareness, not body. I ask and am told. My review is hard, but familiar, like a fingerprint. Then I go to speak to people who are scared. None are in danger, are friends...relations. This is due to war being at the very edge of spilling into tonal reality.
15. I am driving my toy car. Can not read these notes. Looks like I wrote “Sidredah Seff taft”
16. Family gathering. I am preparing a meal. I am thinking of the raw fish, but none would eat a raw trout. I take a small piece of meat...i think its lamb or mutton, not beef. I slice it thin like fat noodles...these i lightly cook, fry, in a buttery oil, I add salt, pepper, and rosemary. I prepare a gravy from the renderings, a light one with olive oil or something similar. This is served on flat bread rolls...like gyro bread. But thinner. Not pita bread, more like Indian nan bread. Its to be folded and eaten. I want to thank ( ) for the fish meal, with the lamb, but its just my tonal family no friends so im a bit sad because im pretty sure this would taste good to her lol. There is enough for all...but one relative wants to take home the leftovers, another relative says its OK. I have to say im sorry, these aren’t leftovers, there are still 4 who have not eaten, and I too need to eat. I only made an exact portion no waste. But can I make you something special, you would like to take home? But they were so indignant, like feeling embarrassed, they said no and looked upset. But the greater harm would be to let others, let myself, go hungry, so it had to be so.
17. I drive for many hours, in my silver car. The desert, at dusk, now evening. I know the road. I leave Barstow California, and am heading towards las Vegas across the Mojave desert. Long road trip, like 4 hours. I remember every detail of two hours of that trip. But im not headed to Vegas I am going to the small community of Baker, California. You know, the worlds largest thermometer place. Kitch. Hehe. Near calico ghost town. When I arrive, its very dark, there are...things of legend in the desert. Some scary, skin walkers, some wonderful, like a maiden riding a deer, a living moon. I do not leave the road, I have a thing to do. I leave the interstate at baker, and pull into a parking lot. In real life the restaurant is called “the mad Greek” used to be the only food between Barstow and Vegas, now there are others in that little town. But with my coming, the place is given a temporary new name...that I cant remember. But the sign was blue...with a red circle in the middle...and a zigzag down the middle of the sign, like it opened and closed. Was neat. Wasn’t a word on it, and it was special one night only...like a test, the restaurant might be renamed if it was purchased. So I go in. I see the art dealers from my sisters show. And some shape shifters etc. Getting burgers, gyros, etc. When im here, im the manager, so the menu changes a bit, and lots of spirits from the desert come in to spend their spirit cash. The vendors...one wants to speak to me, in private, in a backroom.
This dealer sold me three pieces of jewelry. But now she has three pieces, that she wants
me to send to the person the gifts were for, for repairs. This does not make sense to me. Why would the merchant need repairs on things... So I make her explain several times. She shows me a paper. And the first piece. A small earning, like a stud...both sides are small and blue like lapus lazuli? She tells me. The piece that goes through the ear whole. Its...not solid...like smoke. She needs that fixed. And a necklace, and something else. I still don’t see why she cant do it herself, but she...hah it gets hard to explain. I have to be intermediary in dreams. So OK. But now, she shows me three photos of one piece of jewelry. She needs THIS. She cant make this herself. Each photo is close up of a section of a large piece...im not sure if its crown, a thick necklace or what. I see a foot, and a peg, then an space missing, all in silver. It looks royal or religious...or spiritual. I say im sorry I cant remember all of this...she makes me try. God. If I were ( ) or ( ) or ( ) I could remember this, and draw it. But I say I can at least...keep the image in my awareness and see if I can find the right person to deliver it too. That has to be good enough. Shes such a small, regal, Persian lady. But then shes not...she shifts...she looks like...a similar feeling in energy European woman. And then shes more spiritual...like in a dream a women who rode on my back, or even the other older nagual types ive met in dreams and reality. She smiles says I will do fine. She pats my arm above the elbow and smiles a nice warm smile.
Last part of dreaming. I decided to keep the dinner on the highway, in the desert. The spirits cheer, a place they can eat and mix with travelers. The changed sign becomes permanent. Now the vendors can eat and sell here too. The old chef, had kinda taken over and run the place down. And was angry about change. So the new manager...a spirit being, tossed him out. And the living moon, Menily, told him he had to walk the open desert...to either Barstow or las Vegas, but he could not demand a cab, since he gave spirit no service, and they were not there to give free rides to people that hung signs that read “no spooks, spics, or centaurs” on the front door. So in dreaming, if your ever traveling along interstate I-15, between Barstow and Vegas, and find yourself approaching the spec on the map baker ca, out by the salt flats and sand, stop on by and grab a bite to eat! If you do so in the tonal, visit the “mad Greek” and have a Gyro, and look to see if anything seems...odd. I’m going to make that my next road trip now
A more complete telling.
Well, im not sure i want to write this. One section anyway. But I did, promise someone, to not self edit or recoil at projected concern at what other people might think or react, to the extent the do, so im going to, as closely to the experience as I can. Really, only one part bothered me, but how I reacted to it...doesn’t bother me. So there is that. And most of it was fine adventures and perception. So...that said.
I’ve had this open for 8 hours. And not been able to write anymore for some reason. So...going to do it 1 2 3 4 style leave most the details out, the wonderful, energetic details that make it alive. I may be getting lazy, or tired, or momentarily wise. I haven’t taken my pick of those options yet. I’m also open to other suggestions. lol.
1. In the sky, the sea of the night, there is nothing but pools of water. And planets. Planets are land, pools of water are the open sky. Stars. The stars are lights in the water. All of the empty space, all the energy flowing, that we see as empty space, is collapsed into a mosaic of planets and pools of water that are full of stars. I am the eye, outside of time, beyond, perceiving this. I want more then anything to see those I love, my friends, and share this vision. From so far, so much, it seems still, and alone. So warm, in the sea of pools and islands of land. So cold, and without color, beyond.
2. To Fly! To be the wing that rides the winds. And the wind, not so cold, not so far, in, not above. To fly on the wings of an eagle, but talons outstretched, carrying the olive branch of a dove. Transport, trick! Beware those that advize one to become a cold, hollow point. Steam parade. The fog, rising, rising, to the stars. Steam from a fence, the dew warmed by the suns rising light. Not the needle...sharp and cold, vainly trying to pierce the veil of heaven like a sharp yet flaccid, empty little phallus. Pelvic thrust, without the reach, is silly. Humph. Steam rises, the rain falls, cold. Both are water. Both fly...one lives in the sky, one falls to the earth. Consider, Sen. Consider.
3. A meal, of freshwater fish, trout perhaps. The meat is sweet, raw? Served on a large leaf. I see my friends, from here, ( ) like ( ) and ( ) and others. This day ( ) cooks, and it is freshwater fish, not pastry or burgers. And friends from not here. We wait, for the dawn to become the day. We steam, and then we rise. Smoke on the water, fire in the sky. The smoke is not burning, is steam, the warmth is the sun...all the stars. It is warmer, inside.
4. Return Someday. Rain.
5. I return. There has been a great flood, like a hurricane. A kind old woman, she opens a shack built on concrete blocks above the muddy swamp of the land. It is painted blue. There is no fema, no national guard, no international relief. Just a single blue hut, for those that might find it. I find it. I am cold, and nude. Having fallen with and as the rain. I find three blankets. I huddle, near a fire, teeth chattering. Two young men, maybe even still teenagers a bit before 20, come in. One has a stick, and another a skateboard or something like that. Black jackets, with patches. They see a man huddled in a blanket, cold. There is no one around. They think to beat him to death, for fun, to consume him. I look up, and with my eyes say please, do not. But they will, and they do...approach. Enough. I have had enough. Games, games games. Permitting such games. They know my real name, somebody from the “inside” told them where to find me “in dreams”. I am not completely nude, I am wearing a (Edited) necklace my (Edited) bought for himself in the event in los angeles. That is what they want, plus the fun of the act.
6. No. I remove my emergency blankets. The first two I snap and bind them still, and in shook. The third, the silver chord, I wrap around their necks, a different end of the blanket in each hand, and pull. And pull, till it cuts head. I pull harder, until there energy sheaths fray and bubble, it adds steam tot he room, I am warmer. No. I make sure they are completely dead. They have three days to live in the tonal (Edit: My perception in dream, certainly not a belief of fact). I enjoy, the sensation of pulling the chord tight, the sheer exertion, deliberate nature of the action. But I am sad. Just because I was not vulnerable, and they couldn’t see that... others would be....had been...vulnerable. Perhaps next time it would be a friend, or a child. Or an elder. They had gotten people here, before, and would have again. Now they would not.
7. I hid the bodies, just empty skins, like old banana peels, under the hut. And took the “warmth” and made myself my familiar clothes. I could have made them from the flame too, if I had been left alone. The old lady returned, and I asked her about the disaster, the past and future, and the city I saw re emerging from the swamp. By the time we were done speaking, the world had aged, recovered, much time had past. She was very kind...she didn’t know about those guys..the hut was to use and move on. Sometimes she meets the people that come. Sometimes she works alone, thinking there was no disaster. But rain always falls, does it not? Sometimes, broken children would just take and consume the men and women, shivering, and alone. To tell her would be to harm her. Best to thank grandmother, and move on.
8. The ones I took, because they wanted to play, not a fun game, like civilization, or Hollywood squares, but rather murder death kill, one had a wife and child, and one a sister. I felt their tears. The mother would die of a broken heart, and the wife would commit suicide. How dare they! Be so evil, so wrong, to do that...and come to their deserved end, and leave those who loved them incomplete, and sad. For them, the mom and wife, and child, I cried. For those people...I CARE. I was waiting for god, or spirits, to reprimand me, for what I did. They did not. They did not care, not like law. I acted legally. Simply taking blows, and spending energy to heal, reform, leave, was also an equally valid choice, but not demanded. I acted differently. But since i didn’t have to heal myself, I could and wanted to do more, for the sad spirits who also were victims of those two. So...I traveled tot he edge of the realm. The border, like a shimmering wall full of spirits. To the border crossing. A small village.
9. At the village, there is a open air market. There I made inquiries. I looked for vendors. Flea market traders. They had, of course, already collected and cured the hides of the two I killed. All the vendors were my friends, faces of people ive known...antique merchants, those types, even a person from an old chat room. When I asked for what I wanted, they said of course our friend. Good to see you. But I traded. I gave 3 cigarettes, tobacco, from my box of cigarettes. They gave me the twos remains. And an extra. They looked like fat marijuana cigarettes. I added these to my box of smokes, and went to cross the border. (Edit: To bring them to their loved ones to smoke) I would take them across, to those that loved them, the third joint...was what they were when they became bad. Changed them from husband and brother, loved by a child, to such low parasitic predators. That was mixed into a third joint. That one I did not put in my pack. I saw an unattended backpack, like a parcel a postman carries for mail, not with a crosser entity. In this I but the third joint, and stood two crosers behind. I did this very sneaky like. Into my pockets, I placed flowers. Herbs. And candy. To fool the dogs if they stuck their nose in my pocket.
10. The joint in the mail parcel was found, and spirits swarmed around it. I was far enough from the parcel I was not questioned. A dog sniffed me, but smelt the sage? And moved on. And I crossed to another energy realm. This was a place, a place those two would never find, never be allowed. Such low awareness was considered a drug here...a bad one. But to me this was different. This was for those that loved them they harmed, to smoke, and breath out, full of their love. To become as they saw them, as they truly were. The deaths I thought might be a crime, were not. This would be considered a crime, but I did not see it so.
11. I briefly find my (Edited) and (Edited), they have a toy helicopter with a camera, they show me...how it can hover and move, and record. What a wonderful toy. They are having fun playing. This part felt nice. But soon I had to go again. First I found my (Edited) necklace, remembered i had it, and when he thanked me, I said it was no trouble at all to bring it...he looked at me with seeing eyes. Im a bad liar. Lol.
12. Somehow it is whispered, that I am a murderer and a drug dealer. Now it is whispered. The weird beautiful blond girl, from so many dreams, from the tomb of the shawabati, is with me. I’m always careful around her, don’t lean in with emotions. Now I see...she is shawabati too. But young, not...self willed as much. She always wants me to declare emotions that would prove im malfunction...like love. So im careful to keep that to myself. For the first time in 15 years, I tell her the reasons for why she does some things, and she pauses. I say but that’s OK, I like you. She is leading me back to the dream hospital. She grabs my arm says...don’t go in. Somebody from somewhere above said your to be...recalled with sanction. I will...”Grasp” the “portal” then you can enter through my arms. I was scared. For this she would be harmed, destroyed. But no, she said, no. I am like you, just not as old. I cant be destroyed, ill find another form...my form has never even yet been alive! Its OK, see? Thank you. When she grasped the door of the hospital, she became like a great robot tiger. I walked under her legs, and into the door.
13. Doctors. Doctors, orderlies. Am the only patient really in this hospital. Others are usually my guests. Drs ignore me. Are discussing their orders. And carefully not noticing me. One guy, an orderly, sorta waves me over. Tells me whats going on. The doctors of course know see all through my eyes. They KNOW what I did and why, why I broke the seals of the border etc. They..agree. Are proud. They have got strange orders...to harm me. They have decided to ignore them. But...they cant touch me or talk. This orderly is a guest...not staff...i think...its ( )? So the deal is, he distracts a doctor, who knows the game but wont look at me so when asked what he saw knew, he knew nothing, saw nothing. I am guided, after one line of site clears after another. To move closer to the door. Eventually, the lines of seeing clear, and I walk out the other side of the hospital. The wake world side. And its done...I look back, from a hill. The war...is so close. The hospital just declared itself its own authority. I see my shawabati friend, who was born of a time when I was betrayed, as part of it, but is now my friend, had been from the start just not been alive enough to know it... the other shawabati, rise, become large. With lazer cannons on its head. The sky boils with flame. Now this place, in dreams, is a nation it accepts no more orders, broke free, in chaos. My god the wars so close...now It is at the very edge of our own tonal world. This is...news.
14. Life reviews for many, including me. UFO/abduction lucid feeling. Is just awareness, not body. I ask and am told. My review is hard, but familiar, like a fingerprint. Then I go to speak to people who are scared. None are in danger, are friends...relations. This is due to war being at the very edge of spilling into tonal reality.
15. I am driving my toy car. Can not read these notes. Looks like I wrote “Sidredah Seff taft”
16. Family gathering. I am preparing a meal. I am thinking of the raw fish, but none would eat a raw trout. I take a small piece of meat...i think its lamb or mutton, not beef. I slice it thin like fat noodles...these i lightly cook, fry, in a buttery oil, I add salt, pepper, and rosemary. I prepare a gravy from the renderings, a light one with olive oil or something similar. This is served on flat bread rolls...like gyro bread. But thinner. Not pita bread, more like Indian nan bread. Its to be folded and eaten. I want to thank ( ) for the fish meal, with the lamb, but its just my tonal family no friends so im a bit sad because im pretty sure this would taste good to her lol. There is enough for all...but one relative wants to take home the leftovers, another relative says its OK. I have to say im sorry, these aren’t leftovers, there are still 4 who have not eaten, and I too need to eat. I only made an exact portion no waste. But can I make you something special, you would like to take home? But they were so indignant, like feeling embarrassed, they said no and looked upset. But the greater harm would be to let others, let myself, go hungry, so it had to be so.
17. I drive for many hours, in my silver car. The desert, at dusk, now evening. I know the road. I leave Barstow California, and am heading towards las Vegas across the Mojave desert. Long road trip, like 4 hours. I remember every detail of two hours of that trip. But im not headed to Vegas I am going to the small community of Baker, California. You know, the worlds largest thermometer place. Kitch. Hehe. Near calico ghost town. When I arrive, its very dark, there are...things of legend in the desert. Some scary, skin walkers, some wonderful, like a maiden riding a deer, a living moon. I do not leave the road, I have a thing to do. I leave the interstate at baker, and pull into a parking lot. In real life the restaurant is called “the mad Greek” used to be the only food between Barstow and Vegas, now there are others in that little town. But with my coming, the place is given a temporary new name...that I cant remember. But the sign was blue...with a red circle in the middle...and a zigzag down the middle of the sign, like it opened and closed. Was neat. Wasn’t a word on it, and it was special one night only...like a test, the restaurant might be renamed if it was purchased. So I go in. I see the art dealers from my sisters show. And some shape shifters etc. Getting burgers, gyros, etc. When im here, im the manager, so the menu changes a bit, and lots of spirits from the desert come in to spend their spirit cash. The vendors...one wants to speak to me, in private, in a backroom.
This dealer sold me three pieces of jewelry. But now she has three pieces, that she wants
me to send to the person the gifts were for, for repairs. This does not make sense to me. Why would the merchant need repairs on things... So I make her explain several times. She shows me a paper. And the first piece. A small earning, like a stud...both sides are small and blue like lapus lazuli? She tells me. The piece that goes through the ear whole. Its...not solid...like smoke. She needs that fixed. And a necklace, and something else. I still don’t see why she cant do it herself, but she...hah it gets hard to explain. I have to be intermediary in dreams. So OK. But now, she shows me three photos of one piece of jewelry. She needs THIS. She cant make this herself. Each photo is close up of a section of a large piece...im not sure if its crown, a thick necklace or what. I see a foot, and a peg, then an space missing, all in silver. It looks royal or religious...or spiritual. I say im sorry I cant remember all of this...she makes me try. God. If I were ( ) or ( ) or ( ) I could remember this, and draw it. But I say I can at least...keep the image in my awareness and see if I can find the right person to deliver it too. That has to be good enough. Shes such a small, regal, Persian lady. But then shes not...she shifts...she looks like...a similar feeling in energy European woman. And then shes more spiritual...like in a dream a women who rode on my back, or even the other older nagual types ive met in dreams and reality. She smiles says I will do fine. She pats my arm above the elbow and smiles a nice warm smile.
Last part of dreaming. I decided to keep the dinner on the highway, in the desert. The spirits cheer, a place they can eat and mix with travelers. The changed sign becomes permanent. Now the vendors can eat and sell here too. The old chef, had kinda taken over and run the place down. And was angry about change. So the new manager...a spirit being, tossed him out. And the living moon, Menily, told him he had to walk the open desert...to either Barstow or las Vegas, but he could not demand a cab, since he gave spirit no service, and they were not there to give free rides to people that hung signs that read “no spooks, spics, or centaurs” on the front door. So in dreaming, if your ever traveling along interstate I-15, between Barstow and Vegas, and find yourself approaching the spec on the map baker ca, out by the salt flats and sand, stop on by and grab a bite to eat! If you do so in the tonal, visit the “mad Greek” and have a Gyro, and look to see if anything seems...odd. I’m going to make that my next road trip now