Senear's Dreaming & Discussion Thread.

[Senear]

7/10-11/14 Beloved Inspired?

I was reading Beloved by Toni Morrison, last night. At one point, around page 100, i got overcome with an intense feeling of deje vu. I put down my ipad, and sat u on my bed. It did not leave me, what happened is i got pulled into dreaming awake, something like a memory, something like a vision, and something like a dream. There was no realization, directly, just this feeling. what i saw was an older man, and two younger kids. A house like a farm, and the house numbers. Did i rad this, dream it? i wasn't thinking really. The number was 142. Not 124 from the book, but even this seemed relevant. When did i dream this, if i ever did? Something in the last two weeks, and then before, was the impression. Something about the way the man spoke, of things, people, it was no more then a few moments, shifted me even more. When im out of it, im sitting on the edge f my bed. My hands are shaking, like when one is tired, or nervous, almost a twitch. I dont fel good or bad, just shifted. I place my head in my hands, and look at my toes, on the carpet. I sit like that, for about 5 minutes. before getting up for some water. I kept reading, and those characters, or some similar, but mine weren't bad, came into the book. But that wasn't it, exactly. I read more attentively. I read until i got to around page 290. It was then 5am. Almost dawn, sky was the milky white just before the sun rises. I went to sleep then. Wondering, if not the book (this generally does not happen to me directly...dreaming about thing si see/read/watch) but because of that moment, and the feeling something in it...what of that, if anything, might come into my dreaming. I only wondered briefly, as i was soon asleep.

After some time asleep, i slowly come out of a fog, its is as if im breaking through clouds. I see a map, or the earth as if from above. I am looking down on southern California, it is not a map, as their are no borders, no political lines. Looking down from low orbit, a satellite like view. I see, a empty earth, or nearly so. Then the heavy weight of so many millions, growing, like deposits, hardening, and yet, from above, it can not be seen, just felt. I look at the contrast, deserts, and forests around hills, subtle differences between grasslands, and sand. I touch it, with a wet sponge. the sponge, it leaves something like green paint, thin, over the spot were humans grow. Gently, several presses of the sponge, like art. It leaves a pattern, the pattern is time. I present this, to another awareness, so show the pattern is growth; like a coral reef, in the warm sun. the golden glow, of heat, around the edges. People. This does not settle my debate with the spirit, but it does illustrate my perception. Its perception takes me into and around a dense cluster of freeway overpasses. "veins" i see them as, the veins in a leaf. this perspective does not shift me. It, and i, withdraw, both deep in contemplation. Its supposed ot be here, the green, the people/awareness/life. It just got to thick, like paint. That's why we need to use the sponge, lightly.

I am walking my town. the past and present, and future, all here, touching in a strange way. I see people from a hundred years ago, native tribal people, people who i can only guess are from the future, and people as if from now. It is not odd, they each have their own setting in the whole. I walk a street. I pass a cherry orchard (we have many around). the cherry blossoms, are sweet. Fields. Fields with current construction, new homes, the space has a boundary, and i see a state where its all filled. Some of the latter ones, in time, are seven story buildings, like duplicates stacked on each other. I have no shoes. I am walking on the side of a road, that now time, has no sidewalk or curb. the dust, is very real. I look at me feet. I am shifted, to the moment i was looking at my feet, on the side of the bed when i was so shifted when reading. I ask myself. Why? I look around, at the buildings filling, on levels, like ghosts, over the empty field. I ask myself, is this connected, to the field in back of my house, the construction going on there right now, the new homes? Mosst likely, but thats not the meaning, its an old...debate. Was with me since childhood.

I look up, and walk some more, to the end of the block, at the edge of the city limits. A man! A man comes out, from the side, one moment he is not there, then i feel the air move, and then, he is crossing the street. I stand waiting for him. He is a walker. He wont take a car. I know him, we know each other. he came to see me, and i him. He tells me he is from Delaware or Boston. (i pause here, i'm almost sure he is from texas or somewhere like that, but i know it means east...also, it was some sort of sly oke, i could tell in his glow, i could get that, but not the meaning exactly so i let it be) Not exactly sure which. He is tall, and thin...not thin, but wiry. Like a hiker, he is older then me by some 15 years it seems. He stops to remove his beat up shoe. We speak. about this place, its very magical. We walk a bit. As we walk we talk. As we talk, and walk, some women notice him and smile. He smiles back. He is more then a walker, he has no home. He is happy, to walk, and meet a lady, smile, and she takes him in, for a night, for a week, then its time to walk again. Something open and honest about his face. Hes not very much like me, this walker, and wanderer, and i stay here...mostly. But we are similar, and friends, it seems. A woman drives by slow in a truck, to look at him. he smiles and touches his hat. Now i look at his clothes more. He has a hat...more like an Indiana Jones hat then a cowboy hat. A plain shirt, buttoned. Some jeans...and the most discongrouse weird plane soft shoes. I point out hes wearing boot cut jeans...shouldn't he wear boots? The girls here, in this level, that are seeing him like cowboy boots. He tells me he wont wear boots, and there is no way he is putting on cowboy boots. I tell him that is perhaps wise, if we walks further, to Los angeles, or San Diego, It wont be nearly so cool. Different sub levels. I mention i have boots, but they are black urban boots, street boots, not cowboy boots. Although now, it seems, i walk bare footed. He smiles, lucid, as we talk. He is what he is. I ask myself, can this character, who in some ways reminds me of the man from the book, be tied to this? To him. Perhaps. He smiles, knowing at my inner question. We finish walking around the city. In time, it all fades, we walk in a circle, and yet, all the city parts slowly fade. We walked tot he past, it seems. But never actually moved.


As we walk, we are surrounded my fields. Wheat waist high on one side, corn, taller then a man, on the other. Here a fallow field. I was warm, the air had a buzz. We are walking to a slow, sluggish river, a creek really, we can smell a bit ahead of us. There is a discrepancy. Some people are"White" and some "black". All are dressed as if it is the 1880's. We come to the river. there are two lines. A long line, full of black folk. A shorter lines, for whites. A preacher, doing marriages, and two helpers. It costs two dollars it seems. As we draw close, i am now, certain this aspect is influenced by waht i read, the recognition of that, makes me, subtly less enthusiastic. The man with me, he looks at me amused. What sort of character am i in the dream? Clearly i am a character in it. I am also aware, the light shows it. this other man also has the light, here and there others, in varying degrees. Im aware, im a character doing, and i'm me. Can i relate this, to my feeling on the bed. this gives the man, who has a feeling beyond the dream, a smile. As i separate myself, a bit, as i walk, to weigh it all. Because, as i do so, i shine even brighter. Too much. The man removes his vest, as it was making it too hot, and laughs silently. We come to the river, we are across the stream, is a couple plank footbridge across...its no more then six feet wide. The parson, marries 4 couples, quickly, all white. He finishes the white line, its short. the black folk are waiting, silver coins in their hands. He says "sorry folks, im done for the day, try next Sunday" Many of them look downbeat. many wait here, i see stakes and stones denoting their place in line, it seems very seldom that line moves. They sigh, and let their shoulders slump, hold hands, leave rocks with names for their place in line, and shuffle back into the oak woodland. I see the whites leave past us, over the bridge, the way we came. I say tot he man with me, "lets figure out where these whites are going". He nods.


We walk a bit, and it skips, fades, comes to a new focus. We found where all the white folks went. there is an edge of a cornfield, a path. They are standing, looking into the corn. Looking away from the corn, but standing in a long line, along the edge, connected somehow, at the edge of the field. I peer at them closely, how they glow or don't, what they are wearing. They aren't doing anything, really, but at the same time, they all seem quite busy. the ones closes to the edge, looks at me funny. Like why am i here. I can read something in this. I can write something in this, and i realize...they can not. they stand, looking. I step towards a man, glowing a bit, the closest man to me. I look in his eyes, and see my face. Im black!? I am surprised by this, i wasn't as far as i know earlier. How strange. I have a small notepad. On it are scratches like no language. I tear it out, and smile, and hand it to the man, he feels it, the shape of it, but cant read. What is this? he asks. "I can read it to you" i say. He says "you can read!!??" some i say, "the dame taught me". I begin reciting the poem, it seems subversive somehow, to their order. But he listens intently, touching the words like trying to feel them, like objects. He asks me, what i the other language in it? "french" i tell him. "like Paris" he says, impressed. when its over, he seems shaken, he withdraws, along the line of whites. I think we may be in trouble. then he turns around, and reaches, impossibly long distance, and touches my arm, pulls at my shirt sleeve. "Its ok he says, i understand i think...Tell her, tell her, no to you... "you i will help" and then he runs along, past them all, past the cornfield, and into the distance. The poem was only partly written by me, it was also...her. Now it is time to find her, we go to "report" what we have seen/done.

We enter something, like a small theater. the room is full of a few dozen women, watching a stage/podium. At the podium, is the woman who wrote this. Solid, very real. It is something like a "society" club for song and gossip and good manors, a touch of refinement you see, to these people. The woman. she sees me, and the other man. she nods. She is talking about something that doesn't interest me, but then its stories, music. Shes getting closer and closer to revealing her roll, but the ladies here, they nod, too polite, to entranced by the "glamour" of far away places, and a life refined, to quite peg her. And so, finally, she plays a song, on a piano, an example. the ladies clap with gloved hands, politely, proper, but enthusiastic. then the woman, she stands on the stage. And looks at them all, at the end of one of her funny stories about high society far away in Europe or New York. She tells them all, with a sly, determined, yet open look. "the truth is, the songs i share, and stories i write, are for the purpose of freeing the slaves". Gasps from the dames. the curtain behind the woman, the red velvet stage curtain, rips at this, a jagged tare, like a lightning bolt, zig, zag, half of it settles on the floor. I see so much light behind it. Around the curtain, no, through the tear, walks a woman, so bright can hardly look at her. Like a form in a shine, she walks around, and steps before the assembled womens league members. their stunned silence, is now a silence of awe. "my sponsor" the woman says, "Marie Antoinette".


Now the gasps were entirely of awe, a historic figure, of refinement, to these country farmer types. Frontier town people. their ideas, i could see, the ladies, and mens outside were simple, and ritualistic in some way. And yet. the dame, shaman like figure, entertained them, and through their childlike wonder, wrote her stories, to...for the very purpose of "tearing the curtain". At this point, the omen her,e wee all sold. Whatever the dame was up to, to be backed by such radiant...civility, splendor, it must be good; as that was their...the flame that drew their gaze, the slave stuff, well, that really can be forgiven, forgotten in the glow. With that, they were off. The dame, said it was time to go elsewhere, to remember the lessons of poetry and good graces...and letting slaves be, yes yes that, the crowd mumbled, as if they didnt understand or even approve but what did it matter compared tot he rest of it? She speaks to me, us. over the mumbles from the crowd, to us. And then she says "ill leave those two in charge, to bring songs, in my absence". the women in the audience notice us look for a moment, then go back tot heir excited talking. Just two men, who cares. the music...silk, real silk from china! a hand ina glove, holding aparisoll...those were the exciting thing, not two men. No objection there, no concern at all. But its a bit more urgent then all of that. We need to leave...now. Not pack, not prep, just walk..me and the walker. I look for him, but he is suddenly gone. Time is weird again, he snuck off to sleep i know. So i go to find him and leave immediately.

It seems he slept...in a burger king of all places. It was night, around 2am. I found him in the unlocked store. somehow, in the brief space he left, he had gotten a job there. Or was that before, long ago? Time again, not really reliable it seemed. He had gotten kicked out. He was closing the store, but was told he could not sleep in it, he was going to sleep in some plants on the side. I told him a story. It was a dream from god knows when, about going to an el pollo loco, was this dram in colleg ei wondered? with friends, and buying lots of everything, and how we got removed for over utalizing the setting, its no big thing, was the point, it happens. He nodded and grunted, as he backed a camping pack, to leave. the hold up was...he couldn't find his brown shoes. He needed shoes. I brought up the cowboy boots again and he laughed, looked at me straight on, said "they are for ridding and standing...but WALKING? they would kill my feet. Yea...i agreed, i just thought they would look iconic i guess. I chuckle. The door opens. A pretty, vaguely asian woman, walks in. He looks at her warily, and sorta retracts and smiles, at the same time. Freezes a bit. The woman is clutching some paperwork. Like a summons to court. She tells him, she warned him, and now, the dame is gone, she is serving him...for...some wrong? Copper. Part of her looks and smells like copper to me. She isn't even unfriendly, really, just...determined. She leaves. I look t the paper. A lawyers careful, cursive scrawl. I look at it, and then him. He says he "staid a time" with her before, then walked. It seemed, from what i understood when i looked at it, that when the dame or marie antoinette figure was "in charge" he could not be held accountable, for his...wanderings, as it was under their "immunity" but they left, left him partly in charge, so that no longer applied. And he was being served. I really did not understand, but i saw something sorta...against me in some vague way, i didn't like it. so i folded and tore the paper and threw it away. I said "who cares, we got to walk". He said...no. It is true... but it doesn't matter, it wont file till tomorrow, we are leaving, walking now. somehow it concerned the "burger king" location. We wouldn't be there. come light of dawn. Also, i saw the paperwork was valid. i couldnt tear it up, and actually, had nothing to do with me, was not my deal. So i unfolded. i noticed how the torn parts...similar to the curtain, were healing themselves. And the script on the page...was similar, but different, to the poem. More sorcery stuff i guessed, and left it on the counter. To file itself tomorrow. I just found the guy some slippers, and wrapped the feet in cloth, good enough shoes he said. i made a sly joke...i hope he didnt get busy HERE...in a "burger king bathroom" (i knew somehow he had) He doesn't get it, me and my silly references. It was referencing the song "humpty dance by Digital underground" He had no idea, but saw me laughing, in energy/glow, so he smilled getting that and not the reference. We leave. And i wake. its noon. Get up for the day.

I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I'd love you to love me

I'll shine up the old brown shoes,
Put on a brand-new shirt
I'll get home early from work
If you say that you love me

Didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
Ohh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?
Feelin' all alone without a friend, you know you feel like dyin'
Ohh, didn't I, didn't I, didn't I see you cryin'?

[Senear]

8/28-29/14 Ragnar, Flying, City in the Canyon, Departure.

Some things, it seems, in dreams, no matter how lucid, no matter how aware, and no matter how understood remain hidden, not guarded, or buried away, but hidden from explanation by virtue of the fact the concepts and understanding simply does not exist in a human mind. Some things bleed over in metaphor, and still others can be embodied in archetypes and stories, in symbolic actions and representations. Looking a this, I moved them into clusters, some more illuminated by the light of awareness, some more opaque; I could feel myself feeling into them, and I did not loose my awareness, but there was no return. Like radar waves not returning to the device. These I left as dark, and on the map, my awareness created, I took a quill pen with gold ink, and carefully, as a monk, on the margins in those areas, I wrote “Here Be Dragons”. I carefully put the quill away, in a small box, and re capped the inkwell with golden luminescent ink. I rolled the vellum map and put it into a box in my mind.

I then turned to more practical matters. The computers, in dreams, that are communication and access portals. I had a new one, properly configured to now. I now take out an ink pen, and carefully order another device for my brother. Finally, I look for an older, yet more powerful one, for my mother. I buy two computers, not for my own use. And carefully fill out the delivery instructions; when im done, they appear, and I test each one as I did the layers beyond the form of things. There are things I do not expect, particularly in the older one; but when i'm satisfied, I I lift each one and drop it for final delivery into a seam in dreaming. With this, the direct working tasks are done, and I feel now I must go out of the blank space, into the realm of more solidified energy; what we call dreaming.

I walk, leisurely, down long empty roads that seem to be leading towards a city. I walk along a bridge with a rail line on it, it crosses a concrete truss bridge, and goes into something like a tunnel. I am waling on the edge of a drainage control embankment, going towards the bridge. It reminds me of the Los Angles river, and cross the concrete lined Chanel, going into the tunnel, it seems to be the start of a gray, low-rise industrial area. It is a very long walk, but i'm not in a hurry. Near a fence, with a gate, overlooking the channel, I run into a strange man with a beard. He is thin, and weather beaten, about forty years old. He seems like a backpacker more then a homeless man. He notices me, and pauses, then decides my presence does not change anything. We exchange a few words. When he get sin the tunnel, he removes a long stick with knife on it, like a jury rigged spear.


A train is coming, loud, powerfully. Its coming from outside going into the tunnel. He let part of it pass, then, with his spear, he cuts some cords, some cargo on a flatbed car, a single package, falls loose. When the train passes, he stops to gather what he hunted. They are...small, compact, seemingly foam blocks. That fit into each other. But they are greatly compressed. Somehow, someway, I see that each can be expanded, under the correct circumstances, to build a large barricade. He places them, into their container that fell with them, they compress even more. He loads this into his huge backpack. He pays me no attention, he is on the cell phone with the builder, and I hear him say he will get paid 200$ for each of the 12 or so blocks, which he considers an OK days hunting. I ask the (dream) scout to lend me momentum (push) to catch the moving train. He agrees. This seems fair, because I bore witness to his hunt. He walks out, back the way he came, and jumps the fence into the riverbed, to make his delivery. Im now alone again, and I go the opposite way, into the city. I do this by merging into the train, there is space somehow, not riding in it, I get ahead of it, I bend my steps, and let it hit me, and I am then in its structure, as long as I hold it. Like bat claws, the talons tighten the grip, when the bat relaxes. I do something similar, which is no easy feat, with a train bearing down on me, but I do. And am swept forward as I relax. Bat like.

Im carried into the city, past the tunnel, I detach myself from being embedded in the train, and start walking again. I have a general sense of where I am going. I enter a large, sprawling complex of three story condo buildings, it is near the industrial area, but across another river, at the edges of it, there are tall embankments with fences blocking it off. I walk in the first cluster of buildings, into one of the many small courtyards with small trees, between the buildings. There is something like a large party, like a martygraw, or celebration, no costumes, but young and old people, perhaps a celebration around a sporting event, is the feeling. Individual homes are open, serving food and liquor, and people wander between them, there is much music. This is a familiar place, in many recent dreams, the place where we , my family, were moving too, but it did not feel permanent, a month to month rental. Many family members are here, my brother is here, somewhere, if I can find him. Which is not my main focus, I figure ill find it when I find it, I start walking, watching.

I instinctively gravitate tot he places were there are less loud people. Little side walkways, and places on the edge. Something, the THICKNESS of energy, has made me, first stumble, and then fall, face first, towards the grass covered ground in a narrow space. I put my hands out in-front of me, so I do not face plant. An amazing thing happens. Little lines of force, like a magnetic repulsion, keeps me from falling. I lean into it. My legs lift up. Im suspended three feet from the ground. I began pushing and pulling, learning how this works. It feels, and looks, as if im doing pushups. Soon, practicing, I have the trick. I find a way to put slightly more weight in one direction or another, and propel myself, slowly at first, and then with great speed up and down these isolated pathways at the edges.

I find a narrow pathway, were the unseen pets, cats and dogs, live. I look around alcoves, little secluded spots by trees. I see young people, and some old ones, awkwardly making out or making love in secluded “bowers”. Its strange, no one removes their clothes. I don’t look to much at that, give them space. I find a spot, by a dog and cat, and don’t move; I rotate, more and more, until, I spin to somewhere else. A dog is looking at me, knowingly, it is, I suspect, another scout.

As I propel myself, spinning, not moving, I shift into one of the “here be dragon” energies. I emerge, but not fully, in another side space. Here, is Ragnar. Ragnars sons, to be precise. Their mother is Freya. Fenir, the wolf, is at the “margins”. A great sea cliff, over a fjord. Small. The sons of Ragnar, and Freya, become small, like the foam blocks on the train. I propel myself up a steep cliff, climbing, with them riding me like a carriage. I stop, at a cliff platform, near the top. A strange stone and wood, Scandinavian temple. “upsala”. And a white tree. The get off my back, and I stand. This was not my adventure. It was for the sons of lothgar, going to the temple to seek Odin. I don’t have many details. And we do not speak, just a bit part in some legend. I then, fly back down, and re enter the housing complex, at the spot I left. Again by the embankment, over the concrete river. I now fly through the people, who are all very drunk. “halls of waiting” I think of it now. Where warriors feast waiting “something”. I move in another way, there are many traps, that divide the sections of revelers. I am able to bypass them all by flying like this. I understand true flight can not be done here, its too “low and heavy” but what im doing, repulsion of that heavy force, seems to work very well. The levels are like circles in circles, and each threshold I pass is in and of itself a “trap”. It seems I am lost, like a labyrinth, full of unaware drinkers. But, then I relax, like with the train. I find an open door, with people who recognize me, “uncles and family”. They have food. Toffy covered peanuts. I eat a few. Refreshed. When I find them, I have gone far enough in, I know. So I go back outside, slowly, drifting.


I don’t “need” to find my “room”. I am fine, I will survive, thrive even, outside. Sleeping, wandering. I don’t need a box. I don’t need to go or stay or leave, im always were I am, I own that moment; I am always home. With this relaxation, the next place I suddenly find, was the goal it seems. I find my nephew, and by extension, brother rand sister and mom etc. He, my nephew, presents me with the pen, not the quill, I had used earlier. I had lost it. He had used it, to draw, used all the ink, he thinks I will be mad. But I am not. All the looking for a new home, moving, and I feel, know, I speak, or perhaps he speaks these words to me. I write them down, with the pen with no ink. “Home is a place we are”. This seems a good time to wake. To write notes, so I do instantly. An hour or two has passed, its not even 2am yet. I write, and then go back to sleep directly. No false wakings

When im asleep again, im back in the apartment I found my nephew and brother in. My brother is now present. He got the computer I sent, I see it again. He, in turn, has purchased new xbox's and a ps4.
One of the xbox's the older one, he gives to me. I greatly appreciate the gesture, as its another portal device. I know I wont use it much, but it there if I want to. I find an old game, from a dream ten years ago, saved, the dream. Where i left it. Its so different then me now, but I look at it, but do not play. Its a dream, saved, paused, from long ago. How familiar, yet old and no longer ME it feels. I close the window in dreams. I step outside. I am on a porch, the outside has moved. Home was where we were you see, and where we were moved, even though we, always being were we are, did not. A name, fills in, in a space. “Tineateas” Not sure if its a name, or a space. Lines of force, on a superficial world map. They loop and loop, California, where i am was over the spot, that in another, another level...was the land of “gong”. I find my sister here. I show her that sort of flying, and how to do it some.
Tu Di Gong (also known as Tu Di, Tu Gong, Tudi Yeye and Dabo Gong), is a Chinese earth god worshipped by Chinese folk religion worshippers and Taoists. A more formal name for Tu Di Gong is Fude Zhengshen(福德正神), literally the "God of Fortunes and Virtues".[1][2]
In China, every village[citation needed] had a shrine to Tu Di Gong. It was this deity who was in charge of administering the affairs of a particular village. In traditional times, village concerns were primarily agricultural or weather-related. This god was not all-powerful, but was a modest heavenly bureaucrat to whom individual villagers could turn in times of drought or famine.[1]

A large statue of Tu Di Gong at the Hongludi Temple in Zhonghe District,Taiwan.
Today, he is still worshiped by many Chinese, with many housing small shrines with his image, commonly located under the main altar, or below the house door. Many worships make prayers to him for wealth and their well being. He is also traditionally worshiped before the burial of deceased persons to thank him for using his land to return their bodies to the earth.[1]
Commoners often called Tu Di Gong "Grandpa" (yeye), which reflects his close relationship to the common people.[1]
Tu Di Gong is portrayed as an elderly man with a long white beard, a black or gold hat and a red or yellow robe, which signifies his position as a bureaucrat. He carries a wooden staff in his right hand and a golden ingot on the left.[1]



The same man, as by the RV, a few nights before. I think of him as “the racist old man”. The “racist old man” softens. Now there is “tolerance” if not acceptance. Its not that hes racist, as such, its how I see it; a hierarchy of social classes, or power grades, some are not as high as others. Another strange word. “Biber ... Gong”. When the man softens, misty clouds form, in layers of the sky. Rain, that soaks, in the roof, layers separate, but it does not leak. A softening of the land, from the drought. I am in an area, of prototypical ranches, old barns, a rural area, enclosed, I feel, by cities. The man tells me, this land is protected, conserved, the golden fields, in the center of the weight of beings. I is very beautiful, like a memory, from my treasured perception.

It is time for me to move again, I am drawn to the university, for more “unfinished business”. Its not as heavy here, so conversely, its not as easy to propel myself like a dolphin swims. However, I verify I still can, but here, it is simply easier to walk. I check with professors, departments, I have, in dreaming, this advanced degree im never sure if I completed or not. Once again, I do not find out tonight. Others are coming. Are here. I send a notice, somehow, to meet in the luncheon area, for a meeting/breakfast. It will last all day. I find the person in charge of catering, and pay, and it is set up. The cooking begins. As they cook, I decide I need to share something of myself. Somehow I remove strops of bacon, and spend a long time cooking them, to a crispy perfection. I stack them geometrically, upwards, on a plate, and set this as the centerpiece. Soon people I know, some now, some before, some never in waking, come, about seventy it seems. We have our breakfast, and conversations, in the large room. Some leave. But we are not done. Oddly, I speak very little. The caterer man comes, and moves the food, and says we need to move to smaller, yet more stately, series of rooms. I question him. He says they need the big one for evening meal. I nod. I help move things. This feast is now, gone on through dinner. Some twenty are left. Now we begin eating the bacon. I sit at a side table, there are two woman, a very dark one, and a younger lighter skinned one.


There is a bit of space between us, we are spread out, no one next to the other, at a small table. It seems, everyone feels “leaderless” All these people were under the same tent, same job, in a way, as me. First there was the old boss, long ago, removed. Then their was the new boss. The new boss was removed it seemed, do to unnecessary, destructive cruelty for some inner reason. Now there was no boss, no organization, and people were confused. It seems the point of the breakfast, and the bacon, was for them to work it out. I speak carefully to the black lady and the younger one about the bosses. I am on the edge, just advising. We eat the meal. A large group of them start walking their way. I need to fly more, I need to go another. I leave the university, purposefully, relaxed, wandering again.


At the edge, I am pulled down, its heavy again, I need to switch modes. I see. Something strange. Some cheerleaders. A white van. A man gets out, with a gun, and shoots them, vengeance? Some sick thing? I don’t know the story, but I feel the bullets. I spread out to be mist. I engulf them all, before any die, and like the maps, I absorb them all into myself to sort latter, to heal, or to preserve. I was, intrigued on some level; what is this, to block my path, here, at the edge, why? The reaction is to absorb. When I do, im much larger, and I fly, like a cloud. Im following a road, out to the wilderness. I am going to meat those that left the luncheon, but going a different way they can not. Am I following a stream, in a gully, but it grows, its large. It is as if im following the Colorado river, in deep red rock canyon walls, through the four corners area. And im looking down, near and far, big and small, at the river. I see something that makes me stop. And peer. Deep in the canyon, a city, made up of tall futuristic buildings, about 20, tall spires. Around it a tall (small) concrete wall, circular. Reminds me of a space colony from some movie, but there is no dome over it. Another awareness comes to speak to me. Bald. I have the funny thought, if im flying like superman, this would be his friend/enemy lex luthor. On the ground. It snot those things, but that personality fits him. He asks me to enter the city, to unlock it. He too, he says, needs a place to leave his family, to be safe. I can store knowledge there, protected. I see a nuclear cooling tower. Well yes, in the blood of the place, is radioactivity, but its safe. Its power. I do not agree or not, I do not speak. I simply move on. What I notice in the river, are tinny silver fish. But are they tiny? They would be huge to see from so far, more like whales. I wonder again about perspective, for a moment, and move on, im almost to the meeting place.

Its a long strip of land, that is at the river. A second river joins the first here, so this spit of land dwindles until it is knife like plateau, between, at the point the Colorado meets another river. On the top are pinion pines and brush. The soil is sparse, and the rocks are red. Here is were we were to meet. And they are here. When they arrive, we open picnic lunches, and have another meal, finally, the rest of the bacon in eaten. I am so excited, anticipation. I rise in the air. I begin to spin. As I do, bits of many meta songs I here, they go into the spin, hotter, faster. I do this...not sure how long, until the music is gone from me. And I settle tot he ground. And look around. They are all gone. Hours or more had passed. Gone without a trace. But I look. Here are some shoes, there, a jacket. I stand on the cliff, looking at the river. I know the all just jumped, and left. From this spot. I am alone. But not lonely. I find a few scrawled maps, a note to me, to another, left, with rocks on them to keep the wind from blowing them. I gather these, and put them in myself. I feel...satisfaction. Like the job is done. Now I can wander. Somehow being the flaming twirling sun, opened...something. And they left. Like earlier, the sons of ragnar. I did what I do, and now... the river. It goes on. I will follow it, to the sea. And begin walking, then flying, content.

[Senear]

12/6-7/14 Castle Noble Story, Small Stories.

The kingdom was ruled by an aging king, and the succession to the throne was not settled, it was not a matter of eldest inherits, but the most competent. I was one of the two Sons of the king. My brother was the more military brother, and took delight in hunting the stags and creatures that inhabited the forests. I was the more sociable one, who took time to study, and speak to people, and made a study of strategy and ruling. A War had been raging, a long, grinding affair. A great victory had been one, and so, the elder brother was returning, to celebrate and to appear at a feast for the two of us, at which time the decision on ruler-ship would be announced. The castle was a buzz of activity, and I waited for my brother, to greet him when he rode on his horse, through the gates. There was a warmth in the air, it seemed like early summer, there was a buzz of insects, the smells of food baking, the frantic activity of the servants and soldiers. I smiled, when the knights rode into the castle, dusty, tired, but triumphant. I felt more secure, and happy, because they had returned.

After refreshing himself, and changing into court clothes, my brother came to greet me. I too had retreated to my chambers, to make myself ready for the meal in the evening, the feast was several days away. We exchange pleasantries, and embrace, and quickly the steward ushers him to meet with the king. He seems troubled, absent, but is pleasant, perhaps a bit too pleasant, but I brush that observation aside. MY room, my chambers, consist of a long rectangular space, one part dedicated to sleep, and full of what I consider treasures. Sorcerer items, books, scrolls, objects of energy that spin and turn. Paintings and tapestries on the wall. It is, in some way, a place of honor, where treasures are brought for me to learn from, and in which I create. Although I too can fight, and use a sword, my passion is understanding, a deeper sort of challenge.

The next morning, as if for relaxation, my brother and some men leave for a morning hunt with hounds and a trumpet. I wake leisurely, my dream explorations have left me tired, and needing a large meal and time to consider. I walk in an inner courtyard, near a fountain. My brother has returned, and he has killed a white stage, I see a taxidermist removing the antlers and the hide, and the cook is waiting for the meat, to be added to the feast. Again, he seems troubled. MY brother asks me, if I will allow him to sleep in my chamber, to help him resolve something, to be near the energies I have crafted and studied. I do not hesitate, I say of course, even though, I know that is the seat of my power. I will rest in the guest chambers, for the time he is here I tell him. He pauses. He asks me, if I truly know what it is I offer, and the sacrifice it may be. I do not understand, not really. I say “of course”, however. He takes my arm in a clasp, and looks me straight in the eye. He says, tomorrow, before the feast, he will take me into the “deep woods” to “ride the green paths” to “show me our heritage”. A secret, perhaps, something he has learned at war. Again, I am struck by the feeling of...not understanding, the deeper aspect then the words. This leaves me feeling troubled. I leave for the guest chambers, In another wing of the manor in the castle, and look at my hands, almost like a meditation, and soon, I am sleeping in a large overstuffed chair.

As long as I remember
We've marched across this land
(Oh, oh, oh)
Reached for a new horizon
Pulled by the killing hand
(Oh, oh, oh)
All fed up with lies
The time has come
To break these chains and fly

Here we stand, bound forever more
We're out of this world, until the end
Here we are, mighty, glorious
At the end of the rainbow
With gold in our hands

When I wake, I go to find him, for the ride. As I am walking the silent stone corridor, in this less used wing of the manor, I begin to hear noises. Sounds of battle. There are three dark, robed figures, uncanny, I think of them as dark elves, magical. With wicked looking swords. For each Of these hooded figures, there are two human females, amazon like, with golden swords, and helmets with wings, similar to Valkyries. They are, murdering the guards, and the servants. I do not thing, and I do not hesitate. I am wearing a sword, more a dagger, but also have the power of my being, which is not in
an object. Without asking, or contemplating, I begin to fight, and I strike quickly and decisively. Soon, all of the robed figures, who were using lightning and energy as a weapon, are slain. When they die, the cloaks become flat, like they have melted. The Valkyries, are not as fearsome as opponents, almost as if they were the seen ones, to distract. I fight them less forcefully, but the do not relent, and soon, 4 of the six are slain, and two are knocked down, hurt, but not dead. I am in a shifted state, im seeing energy, time, stories in every stone, every noise, time itself seems different, as is my state of awareness. One of the Valkyries has black hair, and seems to be moaning. One is dark blonde, and that one is silent. No quarter can be given, that seems to be a law of the kingdom, be live or die in defeat. I have come next to my chambers. And I look, shocked, when I see every single object, every book, every mote of dust has been stolen. It is bare. A feeling of loss, not for the objects, but for my essence, so profound, an anger, perhaps. There may be more assailants, I dimly hear noise in the distance. I catch a glimpse of the brother, hiding, crawling from behind some stones. He looks at me, and there must have been a quality to my gaze, he shrunk, and slunk off, away from the fighting sounds. One of the Valkyries had vanished. But the golden hair one, not her hair was black with gold highlights. And it was awake.

I am between myself, and the non thinking space I was in during combat. I feel it, look at it, and there is some attraction, physical if such can be said of dreams, but there is a collapsed, vulnerability, hat also stirs something protective, and yet, this does not stop the rage, or become, an emotion, its simply observed, inside me. Before I know it, I have reached down, pulled it up, and, it seems kissing, although I can not sense a mouth. Something passive, firm and yielding, scared and hopeful, but very subtle. I begin to resonate. I take it, and a robe of the vanished elf figure, and go into my room, even as more fighting has erupted around me. I seal the door behind me. My body, I feel, it is sexual, but also numb, like ice more then fire, but not unpleasant, it matches my inner state. A building feeling. A circle, recursive, of energy, this must be a mouth, a hand, in a place which must be the front of the female, or the back, a place to hold, a place to release, a curved form, subtle emotions, almost numb, but also electric. I do not want to stop, we are on the robe it seems. I duly note, the quiet outside. An hour of this. The door. Somebody has the key. The Stewart opens it. They saw were i went, but now the steward speaks. “this has gone on long enough. You brother told your father that you took one, to humiliate, as is your due, but now it is time to kill it, it is done.”. The woman, or whatever it is, is now firmly attached to my leg, connected. I understand it now. I know my brother, the fool, had done something, that brought these in, to kill. But all of that is an aside. What this is, is energy, of a sort, bound to the elves in robes, for a purpose. But that purpose is done. What it is now, is another thing, trusting, hope, uncomplicated. And I like it, there is a mystery, and link. I will not kill it, or detach it and stab it, if I even can. I can, I know, but I will feel less then I feel now. To my surprise, the steward smiles, and shows rows of alligator teeth. It is what he wanted to hear. He raises his arm, and darkness falls over me, like I was knocked out.

War between him and the day
Need someone to blame
In the end, little he can do alone

You believe but what you see?
You receive but what you give?

Caress the one, the never-fading
rain in your heart - the tears of snow-white sorrow
Caress the one, the hiding amaranth
In a land of the daybreak

Apart from the wandering pack
In this brief flight of time we reach
For the ones, whoever dare
I am before the throne, held down on my knees. The Valkyrie spirit, I see the energy, but it is attached, with a green lattice, to me. Separate, but connected. The kind looks at me with anger. I see the brittleness, the haughtiness, and foolish pride in his face. “Detach it, and kill it, or be judged, striped and turned out. I look around at the hard faces of the guards. My brother, has his head down, looks up at me with a miserable guilty face, then looks down at his feet. I see, wrongness, in things. Like the kind, not wise, full of pride and rigidity for rules, and war. The petty thoughts, mockery of faces, which a day before, were kind, celebrated me as a leader. He publicly tells me to refuse, is to denounce him, this is my only chance. As I speak, a spell is woven. Me defiant. A tomb, with a sword, broken, in dishonor, my name carved, forgotten, in a poor grave on the moors. This hardens me. MY state, shifts even more. A voice, a god, I think it, giving me strength, merging with my short, crisp words. I tell father I will not, I answer to a god, not him, an old spirit, father gird. (a demigod from some book who was a patron of peasants and justice). I thing that is who is merging with me in the moment. The fathers face turns purple, spittle out the corner of the lips. “So be it, you are denounced, and a traitor, and have chosen you fate”. Once again, I fall into blackness, the steward is waving his hands, his evil smile is the last thing I see, it grows and grows until all is darkness. I am in a blank space, and then, I am not at all. Blacked out, even in dreams.

Lacrimosa dies illa
qua resurget ex favilla
Rites of brutal violence
Tears of broken innocence
Chaos and intolerance
Cum resurget
Pater lacrimarum
Seven raging epic wars
Seven towers bleeding stone
Seven sins for his reborn
Cum resurget
Pater tenebrarum
I come to, in a forgotten garden, by a small swampy area, green, but sickly, by an old section of the walls. The steward, who us my executioner stands before me. When I wake he smiled. “so you are back, it would have been easier if you had not woken, but, I will admit, this too has its satisfaction”. I am immobile, I can not move. I am covered by a red/blue sticky latticework, and in it, are these things like rotten blueberries, all over, these nodules. “your execution” beams the steward. I wonder to myself, why does it not hurt, I speak to the Valkyrie spirit, and ask if she knows of this, if it hurts, it does not she tells me. I look up confused. “Make no mistake, now you are bound, soon, a day, an hour, the lines, of acid, they will burn through your energy. The blueberries will grow, and you will burn with the heat of sickness, and you will, certainly, die”. “An abominations death, fitting, poetic. I can be an artist too” and smiles evilly. “However, before that, I am compelled to ask you a third time, rule of three and all, will you detach and kill that thing?” The look I give says it all, but then, grudgingly, I speak. “They did something wrong, let them in. This one, was energy, put to use. But I can see, a peasant, a simpler spring energy, taken, bound into a form, for a purpose. But without the will to do, was anothers. Innocent, neutral, I will not kill it, or send it away for another too. I like it...I....” “Good”, the steward interrupts my words, “I didn’t think so, formalities can be so Tiresome.” “Now that that is settled, I shall activate the acid and be done with you. And your family. He laughs. It is clear, that, the brother, the father, are fools, unaware. One consumed by pride, one by hidden fear under the nobility. They will die, see all fall away, rather than admit being wrong. Serves the fools right, I decide. Waiting for my death. A tragedy, but I can see more now, an inevitable one. Flawed characters, myself included. He raises his hands, exactly like the dark elf priests, just to let me know. Power slowly builds in a small object, one of my objects, taken from the room. The moment before it strikes, I hear laughter, and whistling, from the other side of the pillar I am next too. The steward hears nothing. And then, enters, the God.

Sleeping sun:
Sorrow has a human heart
From my God it will depart
I'd sail before a thousand moons
Never finding where to go
Two hundred twenty-two days of light
Will be desired by a knight
A moment for the poet's play
Until there's nothing left to say


A trim, neat, somewhat short man, carrying a shepherds staff, walks around the corner as if by accident. At his side, is a well groomed dog, a Shepard dog. The man is young seeming, perhaps no more than twenty it seems, with sandy blonde hair. He is wearing a neat green vest, crisp, the color of forest leaves in summer. It has large, oversized buttons. His pants are a color more like golden straw, but mised with some green and brown, but not quote mustard. His shoes. His shoes dont make scense, pointed, but seemingly, made of wood. It is not father gird, that much is clear. Hes whistling to himself. In a single fluid motion he raises his staff and burns the steward to ashes. He then stops and smilesat me/us, and raises a hand and the rotten blueberries and acid web flames and falls away in ash. I am struck by how lighthearted, and, well, not stuffy he is. I... Me, speaking with his awareness in me, was stuffy, and serious. He, himself, the actual raw thing, is nothing like that. Is vibrant. I ask bluntly if he is a god. He will not answer, or say what one he is if so, just smiles and chuckles. “Seems I came at just the right time, funny how I did that, in the story we wrote...almost like a literary device” and laughs. He stops and pats his dog, then looks back up at me, he is feeling my thoughts, I know, the outside parts are almost, for fun in some way. In response to my thought, which was along the lines of “how convenient and a bit hack writer like he says. “Well, truly, there is no reason to Re-Reinvent the wheel, that gets tedious, an activity for its own sake”.

The Valkyrie sees him, and kneels lowers head. Which is quite a trick, as its no longer a separate thing from my leg, in connection, I still feel that numb energized feeling, although without the mouth and hand aspect. He just stands, in my awareness, inside, for a moment. He answers another unspoken question. “I heard your prayers...you did not know them for what they were, but they were, prayers, in a way. For weeks, months, possibly forever. This is the time, and this is the dream, I come, to show it. A story. This is, if you must know, chapter three of a 4 book series” and laughs. I mumble something, and he says he saw, hears, heard everything, like a story, in this context. “i am actively seeing your awareness right now, and walks up to me, and answers some question “to look after the perception”. Then he turns to the Valkyrie, who has detached somewhat from my leg. “Now to see hers...its not so straightforward a thing, given the nature behind the energy but let us see.... Toe nails...or is it Tonals... and lizards!?” “Now that is unexpected!” “but he adds, the unexpected is all that can be expected” another laugh. Looks back at me and just says “yes, let us go”. I start to move, and the Valkyrie spirit is separate again,m not clinging I suppose. He tells me “I suppose you should wake up, and take your notes, its important to you, this will continue...as it continues. Four books, different genres, its a puzzle!” he laughs And I wake, but wake to another dream.

I wake sitting on a couch. There is a party, and it feels late, a party still going on, in a quiet, tiring way, at three am. I need to right my recall, and im doing my pre waking exercises. But people are getting loud again. I open my eyes. My brother, uncharacteristically, is holding a wine glass, full of red wine. I hope they didn’t get my bottle of 2 buck chuck i'm saving for sometime midweek! No, this wine tastes better. Lighter. I know this, because my brother stands next to and over me, chatting to some girl, his hands are waving, and wine spills from the glass, onto my face. I open my mouth, and it spills in, most the glass. It tastes good, like tangy, slightly sour nectar, essence of vino. Wake. Wake. I wake, still tasting the wine, as real as my pillow. I touch my face to see if it is sticky/wet, but no, just the taste. I sit up. Turn on my light, and right in detail, carefully. It is 3:30 am. As I suspected as I dreamed, three hours had passed. I close my eyes, turn of my light, and go back to sleep.

The Cisco Kid was a friend of mine
The Cisco Kid was a friend of mine
He drink whiskey, Poncho drink the wine
He drink whiskey, Poncho drink the wine

We met down on the fort of Rio Grande
We met down on the fort of Rio Grande
Eat the salted peanuts out of can
Eat the salted peanuts out the can

Dreams after this, are more disjointed, less real, more like they have been recently, or what I call in between fragments...in between the crisp dreams like the one above, which happen once a month or week, depending on my state. The first dream of this nature, or at least that made it into my awareness, involved tubes. Tubes full of stars, space. As if space existed in branching tubes, like veins. At the center, an “undiscovered country, the heart”. Slowly, as if resolving from stardust, it formed something themed around star trek. Old ships, the old enterprise, new ships, latter imagining. All infested, save the oldest, by “bugs”. A decaying, corrupting mass of spores. The oldest ship, hunted the newer ones in the veins, growing ever closer to the heart. I stood on the old enterprise, looking out the view screen, at the “heart of the universe”. A shell of bright light, and then, something unknowable beyond. Three of the plague ships come then, and a great space battle ensues. At the end, the old enterprise is whole. I watch a wave of energy, hit the nacelles of the new enterprises. The sheer off, and the ships, broken, fall into the light, and burn, like insects on a bug lamp. Then, I am in a single rectangular room, like the chambers before. Empty of all things. I know this, and this alone, bare, alone, can penetrate the heart. As I cross the event horizon, and fall into the singularity, (I determined the heart was a black hole). I see the quantum strand reaching out, that formed the veins full of stars. My room fills with stardust, and I lose cohesion.

I am preparing, to travel by air. To take a flight. I pack, but pack lightly. I call others. I eventually go to the airport (no security it seems it goes quick). There is apprehension. About the plane, and its ability to transit. Some planes have only two rows, some more. There was no clear guarantee, before boarding, if the flight would make it. I board the plane. I sigh in visible relief. There are seven rows of seats, it is a wide body plane, it will have sufficient range and volume. I relax. A bug. A bug dressed as man, dressed similar to me, but not me, a bug. Unseen by others. But plane is large enough, when it splits the shell of human form, it will no rupture the plane. I sit, and keep an eye on it, for the moment it emerges. Company, I soon have company, it meets on the flight, takes seats. The bug is not close to splitting, it is not its season, so it will no infect this flight, it is heading to a different spot to emerge, it is in transit. Regardless, we can not miss this flight, no time, no margin left. The trip. A shopping mall. A santa. A mall santa. Food, I gather food, feed mall Santa, and my company. The food is not for now, it is stored, like a whales blubber, for “next season”. Thin. Myself, and the company, have grown thin, as if, we have come out of some sort of famine. But we will recover. The insect man, briefly transits this space. He...he will not end up, to release the spores, here. But we can not ride, can not be close, when the “traitor emerges”.

Oddly, latter, time has passed. I am in the same flying room, now the walls are clear. I think of it, as a joke, as “chitty chitty bang bang” named for the “Absolute LACK of sound, and tactile stimulation, of cource!”. This makes me chuckle. This room, and me in it, are flying without anything else, moving it, no logic. In this room, I have a task. To recreate the things lost, better, to repair, and re form. More specifically, to recreate the proper positions inside the veins. I am reminded of the blueberries on the lattice of acid, but this is not a web, its inherent in....the universe inside the veins. The first on is hard. It takes me until NEXT Tuesday, so it is, and is not, done now. Removed threats, and then simply leave.


The work is done, for this night. I am vaguely hungry, but it does not seem so important to me. My “sister” takes me to something like a mid sized arena, enclosed, it can hold about twenty thousand people. And the stands are full. We, are a bit disappointed. She, I, was going to put on a event. I ask a man, he says that...these chefs, will set up at random unscheduled times, they got here just before us. The stand on a stage, and make pizza, flipping the dough, noodles. Not demonstrating HOW to cook, making a show of the ACT of cooking. They also, feed people. The entire stadium? I look more carefully. The people in the bleachers, are flat. Not real. They respond, but they don't move. Like living holograms. The ones alive, are the people sitting in rows on the white folding chairs, on the field. They are all old. Seniors, slow. Many were world war war veterans, eighties, nighties in age. Old men and women. The chefs, are all middle aged. The food looks bland. But the chef’s offer it. One does not have to pay, one can leave a bit of money. I have none, but when I go to look, a chef looks at me strange, then smiles, hands me a plate. But he spices mine with red pepper, the chicken primavera, so it is more suitable to me, not being old. I take it to my seat, which now has a bench. I slowly chew the chicken and noodles. And appreciate the spice it was, indeed, bland. As I chew. My sister reads me a letter she got for me. It was from Washington state. From childhood time, to now. MY past mailed it, my kindergarten past. She reads it to me as I chew. When shes done, she hands it to me and I look. The words swirl, become a dream on the paper. Where I lived, was called federal way, one of the places. It has changed. More industrial on the outskirts. A lock, and the ocean, and industrial waste, nutrients. Salmon runs. But not an issue, its separated. But there is less dream space on edges of city. I look in the channel, the green algae from nutrients, and watch them flood it into the Puget sound to clear the water, so it does not become stagnant. He friend, name forgotten, who wrote me, tells me she imagines. (she had one disabled small arm as I recall). She tells me she knew I went to California when we moved, we moved back. She has not died, but she is sad, will be. Do I remember building the little elan too fort for her, in the woods in the field in back of our houses. I do remember, now. She thanks me, the letter is hard to send. She is still 5. She is writing to me as a five year old to someone 30+ years elder, but still, that person. This is hard for her, So she is going. Her PS was, she is not sure she is still alive, or is still five. But the city has grown. So she suspects she may be alive. She still loves me, eventhough, at that age, we did not know what that word in the way an adult would. But it was still real. In time.

On a day like today
We passed the time away
Writing love letters in the sand

How you laughed when I cried
Each time I saw the tide
Take our love letters from the sand
After the letter, I wake for the day.

[Senear]

9/17-18/15 If i were "king", what would i REALLY be like.

Dreaming answered this question, by experiencing it. I had thought about it, at some point, yesterday. I was looking honestly at myself. That i'm not as smart or clever as i once fancied myself to be. That i seem to over react, which is all in proportion inside of me, but what if, it was free to manifest without consequence, what would i, what would i make, what would it be like, truly? I had reason o wonder, at least from dreams. Once i was left to explore the consequences of my rebellion long ago, when i somehow ok over and re ordered 2/3 of the universe, in the dream world. And only stopped when i became aware of how wrong what i was doing was...trying to make things right. the consequences of that. Another time i watched political leaders who did great evil, over and over, the moment when they fell, had realisation. What they thought, why, and how others reacted. it was all ugly. So i'm wary of those questions, but yesterday, for some reason, i asked it again. Dreaming showed me something strange.


- the place i'm in, is nice. Clean and orderly, without being restrictive. vibrant. full of people pursuing their own dreams, meeting, having fun, learning. Like a dynamic community. things just seem to work, without an overly organized government, seems like every little place has its own organic council, and things are decided on by them together for structure wide issues. Not allot of overt strength, in term sof police or military. They are there, but its part time, and embedded into the large community, not separate structures. these were my observations living in it for a time. Also, i was the king, in the sense that i could make it anything i wanted. but i left it alone...really, no one recognized me, or that there was "A" ruler, and that was how it should be. So people don't feel dispossessed, hostile, or even needy. Works great, right? not always. spirit, and spirit beings, view that, democracy, as the tyranny of the low. Most beings aren't...aware, so to place those that are, at the mercy of life and death on the whims of the mob, and the wicked, is the most foolish of things. That its evil, in a way. That said, the understand some nuance of it, and basically, as none of us here are that much more than any other, its works OK for us primitive swarms. They just look at it as bug like intelligence, pheromones, posturing, etc. Spiritual realms are the opposite of both dictatorship and democracy. with unbalance, or lack of understanding, it always goes "logans run".


- I am touring a small eatery. this whole city, is in one building, like a large mall or space colony with spires under a dome. I am looking at the menu. the food is wonderfully strange. Haute cuisine, tiny individual portions, many of which are baked into crusts like beef wellington. but some of the crusts are seaweed like sushi, bacon, all sorts of things that complements the interior. I sample a section of lobster tail, cut scallop like, that is wrapped in some casing that seems to be made of...soft squid lightly fried or battered that holds in it liquid butter. it is...wow. the flavors pop. The place is crowded, so i decide to help them by being a server. I go to tables and laugh, and suggest things, and talk with customers. Take orders, and i'm enjoying myself. But then some of those people come in. Older, pinched faces, two women and a small man. Aloof, and hostile. particularly to servers. But i smile and tell them of things to eat. they inform me, rudely, that they will order what they want, and not to be too familiar and to know my place. I am surprised by what i feel, but i say fair enough, and smile and leave. But i was not sufficiently cowered. The woman stands and demands of an employee to see the manager. I here her telling him that she demands my job for daring to suggest something to someone of her stature. the manager doesn't know who she is talking about. When he leaves to find out, i approach him, and introduce myself. He doesn't believe me, until i show him the real me. which is a shock, to him, as he did not think that being was real. I ask him to gently tell the woman, that it is wrong to assume superiority, and to take out her frustration on those she deems beneath her. But to also inquire what he...we can do, to help her, because that felt like a wasting illness, and i saw a pallor in her flesh, a greyness. He agrees. I hear him whispering to her, and then she looks around the room frantically, for me i suppose, but i've removed myself from being seeable. I also had the manager tell herm, because he is more practiced, and id get hurt by what i felt from her. and then i might react in a bad way. which is unfair to us all. I leave.

- I was more shaken by that then i was comfortable with. When i recover somewhat, there is a special day. IT is a holiday, a promise day it seems. When parents speak to their children, and children to their parents, and promise to do their bests, and not see them as alien, but to love and know, and try their best. Its a sweet day, like an affirmation, to love and do ones best from that. It seems to be a big deal with children and parents. I join these strange workers...not quite priests, not quite social workers...and a big like entertainers, who go door to door to witness each affirmation. Not everyone does this inside a home, or apartment. Again i end up in a dinner. More of a workman like "greasy spoon". A man behind the order counter, int he kitchen. A thin and sallow man. e gives his affirmation to his son, who shyl, and with fear approaches. the child looks haggered, like his bones were melted and reformed wrong. He is clutching a toy car. tightly. what the father says seems nice, but the child cringes. The priests, notice something, but its not their place to judge or see more deeply, just to facilitate. But i see. Its horrible abuse. To these others, the child's body looks normal, but im seeing underneath. So i look into the abuse anger. there is sexual abuse in it. I recoil. I speak what is not said or seen out loud. the priests pause. Im looking like the true me again. They had seen me as an acolyte or trainee. the father screams at me, about his rights. he still doesn't see me. I notice a string of people similar to him, but in different degrees of corruption. and they all have children they hurt. there is no need for subtly, or process. I tell the priests to take that man outside the walls. that he is, as he is, banished. They...aren't sure how. That snot how this place works. there is no rela outside, but there is...a place where it meets the larger universe. i tell them how. They...are confused, still, but they can now see what i saw, and they agree. They have to sing for...their voices, "police". there is no standing police force. The horrible man is taken, and the child is gathered by a woman to be safe or to be helped.


- | am unsettled again, and i want to return to my personal space, which is not known to these people. I decide to walk, to consider. I find myself in my "outer alcove". which is some quiet government center that nobody ever leaves or enters. In it, i find a group of a dozen men. they are middle eastern, soldiers. they are equipped like US special forces, and have very advanced body armour, and other equipment. Professional. I interrupt them working. there is a large square sink, shallow, made of black basalt like stone. Its a pool of molten gold, that spills from three channels into a lower pool, and then is recirculated upwards. the looked towards me, but not at me. when i spoke, it seemed they saw me. They relaxed in relief. It was clear they were waiting for me, they had set up here rather than looking for me, as i'm apparently not easy to find. Takes to much energy if i don't want to be found. We speak. They are here to pledge me their services. their leader, is very soft spoken, but powerful sounding. this was symbolism, but they were once "republican guards". that is to say, elite soldiers who protected a regime. Is this not a regime, do i not need that? I have none. And it is true, there are none here. He is practiced, honed, and the words cary not wisdom, but power. I am considering. Would that be right here? i do not think so. Would i have a need? to eject rude diners and abusive fathers? no. To wage war? against whom. this place is internal, not external, the external is a bridge that they can't find. On the other hand. it is possible i might. I weigh with seeing and feeling. The leader, he goes to the fountain/table with grooves with molten gold. he takes something out. He places it in my hand. At first glance it is a large ring. He tells me to put it on, and it is done. I feel it in my hand. I examine it. It is not a ring. It seemed one, but...it is large, ir would cover a whole finger, but on the surface, it was but a normal ring. It is large, and gold. On it...in a space that seems etched, and semi melted, are two cobra snakes. the snakes move. One becomes large, the other curls under it, it forms a symbol. I do not understand the symbol, my mind. then i see something i do. It...looks like a cobra symbol, from the old GI joe cartoon. And yet, it simply formed that, to show me...context. I look up. the leader is more frantic. that is to say, his voice has an edge. "just put it on and command us". I think, and then i reply, "to what end". Silence. they murmur somehow between them. One of the 12, at the edge, turns to me and speaks. He tells me not to listen, that they are hunted, and the leader is trying to make me take that burden from them. They hiss for him to be silent. I appreciate his candor, but it was as i already thought. Its all in some balance. My focus shifts from them, to what is hunting them. I hold the object in my hand, and go into a silent near trance.

- I see the object more clearly. It is not a ring. And it is not gold. It is a mass of metallic energy, grey blue. it is something impossibly strong. something that can't be destroyed, and yet, it was partially melted. It was...is, a part of...something connected with their former leader. Who was destroyed. And something hunts them still. they came to my city, for refuge, but found no other to enlist with for protection. So they looked, and waited, and eventually, they found me. But it was not, what they are used too. Fear. They were beings, iobs, entities, who were afraid, of something, not fear as we know it. I put what they asked aside. I woke from the trance. I look at my hand. the gold covering on this thing had partially worn, in my hand. its form was as i saw it in the other seeing. I lifted it to me eye. there was but a hairline crack, through the center. But i knew it would shift to accept my finger. I did not put it on. I put it in my pocket instead. I felt into the fountain. this to was as i saw. They took the gold, which is metallic light from the death of a star, its remains, (as gold unlike other elements is not created in stars, but rather from gamma ray bursts when two dead stars collide...it is universally rare in the cosmos) from their own bodies, and bits they could find, to create the illusion of the power. I felt into the earth, deep, where things are kept. Even in dreams. I found a vein of gold, 2 metric tons. I drew it up, connected it with the font. When i did, the alter table/work table, the basin got deeper, and it got more full. I did this to help them. It was also me allowing their presence, but not their service, which was really, an attempt for me to take responsibility for what they had done, that got them hunted. To make me and this place the focus. Which i would then "need" them to confront. I was sidestepping it. I was also tired. I went into my inner chamber to rest. And left them to help themselves in here as they could. I took the blue grey god metal, but as a keeper, not as a wielder. It also needed further study. the metal was blue black, looking at it it was then black. looking deeper it was "full of stars".

- I'm not sure i slept, but time passed, i did not even see where i went. i become aware when i leave wherever it is. I re enter the room. A being, not unlike the metal, is standing. He is placing one of the 12s skinned face on the gold table. There are limbs everywhere. It turns and looks at me, but it is blank. It is...death, thats the easy part. That's not exactly what it was. It was unconcerned with me. After it placed the last skinned face, it left. It had dismembered and organized 11 of the soldiers. the 12th, the one that warned me, was unharmed. He told me it didn't want him, it never had. anymore then that entity came for me. he had never done whatever earned its attention. That was why, again, they wanted me to accept their service, to be the one it would come for, which would make me use the city to resist, and make them safer. It was a trick, but not a lie. An omission i sensed. I asked the 12 th soldier, if he could help the 11 who were skinned into parts. With threads of gold. He...believed so, if he had access to the light gold, which he now did. The outer alcove then became their workshop for making things. This one of the beings was the most helpful. So i took no oaths, but i did have them, would, just not as tightly. which seemed to be the operating methodology of this entire place.

- I travel outside the city, outside the dome. From the outside, it looks like a huge half buried egg, made of whitish stone. Almost like eggshell, but more grey. the man i banished, is here. He is folded over and over like taffe. there is a table of bamboo. And spikes made of the same bamboo material. Like a meat loom, perhaps. the spikes penetrate the still living man over and over, and he folds. and it ran through them, then again. It's not torture. Although it hurts. And it is not healing, although he gets stronger. Its a fundamental repurposing of matter and spirit. Its an outside the dome thing, never inside. It would be upsetting. To them. and me. 4 people come from the other side of a low rise. And stop. It is two of the ones who drew strength from this ones wretchedness, and sickness. They had...left the dome. Left the city, to seek the others. They spoke to them. They were doing this before. they see the man. I turn to them, and say this is his reprocessing. They look at me in horror. each one had a child. they grabbed their children's arms, and declared that i was evil, that they would leave this place. I simply let them go. they were outside, and outside, I had no right at all to other than allow it. Although, again, that is my rule. my preference. It is not a universal rule. But its best if they all think it is. That's a power then, when they think it is not the way it truly is. my own omission. not correcting their beliefs. Or clarifying my preference from rules. but, all they would have to do is ask, and i would explain. but they never do, or don't know how. Too arrogant and ignorant. so i let them go. sad for children, but they are also most protected, here. the 4 were going tot he others. You see, there are armies, beyond, waiting to come in. they never find a way. They try, and fall back. the internal strength, of belief, the open and enthusiastic society inside, vitality, repulses them. But then, there is also rot, it cant be helped. just contained and constantly healed. But these bits, are free. they will bring the infection, the others arms. But them beings inside, will be re sewn with gold. to wait outside. None of this bothered me. this was old story, like the sunrise and sunset. To answer my own question before sleep, i thought i managed my inner and outer states, and by extension, these realms, with creative flair, a minimal touch, and great respect and care. If i were a king, as i am, does it matter? m not the most clever, or strongest, but i do well. Well enough. also, i am those things, they just arent the best approach inside. So i was happy. and i woke for the day.


I was happy because i was better then i dared hope. In many ways, even if imperfect. which was not at all the answer i expected. if i even got an answer, which i did not expect.

[Senear]

2/20-21/16 Witch, Death, Trimming my inner fibers

- I am exploring, and the way i move is by flicking through locations like a stone skipping on the surface of a pond. I find many locations. A tropical forest, a volcanic plane, a silent city, a beautiful meadow. One of the places i find is a magical faerie type glade. An animal comes up to me in this place. At first i think it is a lamb or a goat, it does not look like either of those things. It comes closer, and i open my hand. I am speaking to it in its mind, and it me. It relaxes, and from the goat like form emerges a man with animals hooved feet, like a satyr. Whatever It is, it is sad to share, it is the last of its kind, and it hides deep in these planes, to not be hunted. Also, it searches for others like itself. But not obsessively, it explores, and is wild. But its soul is tame, and larger then its form. I love it whatever it is, and it decides it can come with me.

- I am observed, we are observed. I see myself being watched. I am always monitored, but not directly. A frightening thing, a witch, but more; more like a god of some sort, supernatural. For a moment, i glimpse her desire. She catches things. Rare things, beautiful and monstrous things, to keep them safe, and yet, to make them suffer. Like a fine drug, a contradiction, something invigorating, power, that for a moment i fully comprehend. It is, she is, focussed on the man being that emerged, and, to a lesser extent, me, as it emerged to me, the wary unfindable being.


- I need to recall, immediately, as soon as i am not indwelling in that one's intent. I cant really hide from this being, unless i make myself like the satyr, and flick around forever, only staying in any one place for a few minutes. I recall to the place i was projecting from. Like an emergency recall.

- I dont return alone. there are so many people, at least 12, and about 40 spirit people...allies, self willed beings. there is a woman, who seemed to be directing the exploration and recovery efforts. She is trying to impose order, becasue its chaos. But i dont think she truly understands what is coming. I look at her. She does, more than me. She also knows there is no preparing for it. Even the strongest magical person, cant really stand against an elemental force akin to possessive envy, hunger. Because it permeates everything, like all elementals do.

- spirits are flying in big groups, through doors, swirling. People are making a show of getting ready. Some have no idea what this is, as they aren't lucid and never are. It wont be enough regardless. It begins to calm down. I am shocked to see my mother, sitting on the floor in the living room like space, confused, what this is. But wanting to help. More like that. Before the thing comes, a feeling comes. Probing, heavy, in the air, but more, in the spirits/souls. Heavy. I see people, grow silent, and curl into balls. I mimic this. I curl into a fetal ball, head down. To my shock, when i do, there is a timeless dream with understanding, but no form. Like a tombs air. I am in it for a few moments. I mange to shake it off, and emerge. I stand. All the others, even the spirits, are like that, silent, on the floor. Some people have laid down. I stand, despite the thickness of the air, and go to the bathroom, where i last saw the witch who was organizing the defense. She is frozen asleep, looking in a mirror. I shake her arm. Wake, you are all inert, frozen. She says she knows, it is inevitable, and smiles...starts to walk to organize in the livingroom. And stops and slumps against the wall, asleep again.


- My hands. Seem not clean to me because i had them curled, around my mouth, sticky, as i was inert. I go the bathroom the woman was in, and turn the water on. I place them under it, waiting for it to get warm, to revive or focuss. The showerheads erupt with streams of water, like fountains....the bubble up, then fall back on themselves. Everything in the bathroom does this. I stumble back. From one of those jets the witch starts forming. Greenish, scales that rapidly disappear. Frightening teeth...then her features normalize...and a person steps out. She looks at me with cold black eyes, and i fall backwards, now, i am stunned, and can not move. She emerges from the water.

- They Arranged all the sleepers, laid out, not moving, on the hard wood floor of the living room. It was more that the entity, she had many lesser beings, minions in a way, that did the work. She found a chair she sat on like a throne. She began to wake and dispense with the sleepers. A few had woken on their own, were aware, like me. These were the ones she claimed or divided up. She went to my mother. Felt her arm. Called her her lover, claimed her. My poor mom, confused, not real to her, not fully there. She turned her head and saw me and laughed, gallows humor. What could she do? She laughed that it seemed "she still remembered what people do between sheets, it had been so long, since dad died" A but of confused humor, then she falls silent. Next the entity looks at me. She says i am given to another, and that one surges with joy. I cant see who she speaks of. The entity then goes tot he satyr man, and licks his face. That one is hers, captured, finally. Other beings begin binding those she will takes hands together. Most of the spirits, she just leaves to wake and leave. She has no use or interest in them.


- We are standing in a line. In Front of me is the satyr. Our legs are cut free, but our hands are bound behind our backs. All the ones taken, there hands are connected by a rope, in small groups of 3-5. I am not bound to a group. The female i was given to, i can see now. She is dressed, in something that looks like a videogame villainesses semi S&M esque outfit. With high heels. She is holding a thing whip in her hand, black leather, shiny silver top. She cracks it to get us moving. she is standing in back of me, i am closest to her, at the end. It seems i dont move fast enough. She begins lashing my legs with it. It feels muted to me. Also, it feels somewhat good, exciting, but in detached way. I can feel her pleasure in it as well. the effect is a thoughtless, warm, slow excitement but muted. I walk. And it gets more frequent, and that excitement builds. I see myself from outside, and something is a bit off.

- My body is more soft. My legs and hips are seen as, have shifted on one level, to be more female. I have grown breasts, but not lost my male parts. I dont understand. Also i can still see myself, and on another level, i look stylized like a body builder. The two exist side by side. What is being seen, is emerging, but so is the other. A contradiction. there is something female about that form, integrated with more extreme male. Like aspects of character manifesting in another's pleasure and perception. I notice myself and the one with the whip are farther behind. She says i must move faster. I reply that "i have only one speed of movement, the speed i move" there is no hurrying or slowing. The others are far ahead. they stop, as we draw closer. Looking back.


- the one with the whip, and myself, are shifted out more and more in some weird understanding and joining. She stops me and asks me. "Are you ( )? Please answer truly, for i am that as well" I dont have the capacity to lie like this, deeper, i say yes. then there is something else, like an quiet ecstasy as i move. For me. We are catching up. when we do, the one that held the lash, is like in a trance, inward. I am only partially so. The entity looks. At her, and then at me. One of the minions starts to hiss questioningly. Then something breaks, like a climax. I could have brought her back, i wanted to. I liked something deeper. But not like this, attached to another. the context demanded outcomes, as inevitably as my speed of walking. So the woman with the lash, she falls over. Dead, her eyes roll up. Now the entity confers with her helpers. "she is dead?" "how is that so?" is asked. The entity woman says "it is not so, unless he called death into the dream state" They look at me warily. I speak up. "Perhaps i did not call death, perhaps i am death, the devil...the master". they pulled back and stared at me, considering. the satyr turns to me. He says "If that was so, then you could command them away, if you are, do it"

- So i try and see if that's the truth, its an open question. What comes out of me is a song. An epic, metal/hard rock song. As i sing, i form a guitar. And music. I begin to flick around, but more so, in this clearing space. Within a few moments, it is clear that, i am in fact not, death, or the devil. But i am, connected in some way. All of my soul bleeds out the guitar, perfect music for what it was intended. Like a cross between megadeath and motley crue i imagine. flicking faster and faster...loud riffs, emphasis. So i dont command them. But what i do scatters them Far far away, realms, levels of reality. I was not free, i felt, to do this before. So i was caught. no i am. Its becomes hard to explain, the sensations, flicking, pure loud music, like my soul surging around. All of them, that entity, are scattered. The satyr, others, blown back where they should be. But there is a cost, a heavy cost in doing this, in revealing myself inside out. This will, inevitably, lead to my death. I am about to die.

- Death is in the sky. there was a helicopter, in the sky, like filming a music video. But one of the waves of sound revealed it as death hovering. It explodes when i push the entity back to its realm. I'm still playing, song is not done. I can't stop playing. Once i started, it would complete itself. And death finds me. At first i see blades, like from a chopper, falling towards me. I change chords, and move. It follows me. And now becomes invisible, but i feel it. So i play another change, and move. It follows again, invisible, now without sound. Again, and again. Each time, death loses one more identifiable warning. It is almost the end. One last flourish, many jumps...A final chord. I stand. there is nothing left in the dream. All objects blown away. A flat plain. Here...now...it hits me. And i am dead. A few eyes, distant observed.


- When im dead, im dead. I am akin to a thin layer of oil, on a flat, dark piece of glass. Like the cap of a tomb. My essence is that oil. In it, are simple thoughts. they look like biology or chemistry strands. H23eg - e45cr That branch, like a diagram, organic, simple. And yet in those, is everything i am, this branching energy tree. I am relieved. To be back like this, safe, in the space i call home. this was really, it seems the only way to escape., both for myself, and the woman who i helped by setting free in some way. Other side of the tomb. and yet, immediately, my body, in that energy, my soul begins reforming...after a few moments, there is enough of me to safely wake. I like being like this. Dead. But i have very complete recall, and its time to wake. So i do. And take notes. And smile. I am happy, for some reason. I go back to sleep, and for awhile, i do not have recall. But latter, when i'm completely reformed, dreaming continues that i am aware of.

- I begin my next life by waking in what seems to be a dorm room. I have a roommate. He is upset, he believes i am using all of the dreaming bandwidth, that i must be. I show him what i am using. Its a computer, my state of cognition, from 1996. I assure him that it only has dial up. He then changes tone, and says i really should have broadband. I say i know, this room is broadband, fiber optic, but, recently, i've only been connecting with others at dial up speeds with huge data loss and bottlenecks. This seems funny to me, that i've been knocked back so. But i know soon i will be using my newer abilities.

- Leaving campus, i come upon a liquor store. It sells treats i like to eat, and i get coffee there. I see the lines and stop. Its for the lottery. Well what do i care, ill buy a ticket and get my normal. And some smokes. People come, from Rf, to find me. They find me in line, just getting my coffee i've already drank half of. A man i dont recognize is with them. After i make my ironic purchases, i am standing int he parking lot. I want to smoke. But first i am talking. I begin coughing.m Large amount of liquid comes up, mucus. I cough it into my hand and flick it. also out of my mouth, comes those strands that emerge from me. The man asks...says...this cant be healthy. The Rf people, dreamlyn wg sw others, say "its not" like a ironic observation. I smile. I begin using my teeth to do what i always do...sever the bottom of the strands. this time, there is one, i cant quite sever. Most i do, and throw away. My teeth hurt from trying. So i laugh and shrug and swallow it all back down. I look up and say "so what are we doing?" recall fades there. After some time, i wake.


I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain
To see for certain what I thought I knew
Far far away someone was weeping
But the world was sleeping, any dream will do
I wore my coat with golden lining
Bright colors shining, wonderful and new
And in the east the dawn was breaking
The world was waking, any dream will do
A crash of drums, a flash of light
My golden cloak flew out of sight
The colors faded into darkness
I was left alone
May I return to the beginning
The light is dimming and the dream is too
The world and I, we are still waiting
Still hesitating, any dream will do

[find dharma girl]

"...She is trying to impose order, becasue it's chaos. But i dont think she truly understands what is coming. I look at her. She does, more than me. She also knows there is no preparing for it. Even the strongest magical person, cant really stand against an elemental force akin to possessive envy, hunger... the entity looks at me, says i am given to another, and that one surges with joy..."

Your description bears authority; it is very fluid and visionary.  You bring wonderous anticipation of what is next to come, and yet foretell of it all in the same.  Nice!

[Senear]

3/29-30/16 Seaside manor, lady gaga & house of the dead, completing the circle.

- I am standing on a dry and dusty road, the sun beats down on my head. I remove a battered old fedora, and wipe my sweating brow. I have a single old suitcase, that i hold in my right hand. I am wearing a dusty old suite and worn shoes, of cheap quality. the style is that of the 1930's. The sun is warm and lazy, in the sky. It is about 2pm. I walk to a fork in the road. the sign is in italian. Langusta, 6 km. I begin walking, despite the heat. I will arrive before dark. It is evening, and i arrive at my destination. It is a strip of land,. midway between the distant sea, and a range of interior mountains. It is a dusty, small, crossroads like town or village. I am a refugee. A refugee from distant america. I have come with a dream, a small amount of money, and a desire to build a home.

- Several men greet me in the transitional village square. There are two choices for me here. I can build in the cool, tree clad mountains. Or i can build in a strip near the beach. There are others, like me, who came here. To this remote corner of Sicily. The others that came with me, are gravitating to the mountains. I stand, my hat in hand, looking at the choices in my mind. I see the strip in the mountains, in all futures, never was completed. I tell them, but they continue on their way. One other, stops to listen. I tell him. "the sea, we build by the sea".

- The land we have is literally a strip, a lot. In which can be built, but outside of which, no changes were possible. We gather bricks. We buy bricks, to build the shells of the structures. We had pooled our resources, and the outer shell of a large four story building rose on the lot in front of mine. On my own lot, the outer walls were half built. But there was a problem. Our resources were not enough. Mine would be built higher, so the upper floors had an unrestricted view of the sea. I am able to see ahead, to this life's self. The wealth i think i have, in my mind, can be carried back, as it has form. I take and sell all i have, and convert it in 2016 dollars, another distant self. Then i receive it unadjusted, in 1930s lira. It purchases more than enough bricks. This is a complex transaction, that i do not fully understand. By doing this, i have anchored myself in time to this spot. I survey what has been built. I feel the edges of the space. I have an idea. I mix clay and dirt from a nearby riverbed. I affix this to the outer shell of the space...it is drawn inward, creates a mold. I then, without moving, seeing it from the outside, carve the windows, doors, into the structure. Finally, i use the beautiful brick as a facing for the structure, saving resources. I form the floors, halls, and other structural foundation in this way, by fractally dividing the interior space. IT is like folding invisible air, then giving it a clay mask and then adding space for pibes, bricks. this takes much energy, and when i am done, it is day again. And i am tired. I go inside, to rest, against a now firm wall. To dream my way forward. I but my little suitcase down, like a pillow, and lean. I pull the hat over my eyes, and sleep.


- The other building had an older man, who i had partnered with. As i non-dreamstime is moving like a time lapse forward. Things have not worked out. I thought, perhaps, this base of things would become a hotel. But as time moved forward, rather than endure, both buildings began to crumble. The world around them also crumbled. No town developed. The sea and the land was unchanged, and slowly, both building collapsed in on themselves. I needed to try again. I do another complex transaction, and i renew the owned land. It is the 1930's again. there are two strips of unused land, the center of a town that could be, off the road, by the sea. 10km from the village of langusta. This time, i do not start by building. I am trading, i am contacting. there are complex social deals being done without words. Its is noisy, in my mind, in...another layer beyond the sleepy place. It is so load. Time forward, a war passes. More time. In that other level, a pile of bricks crumbling into sand. Noise. Need to reclaim value. I Take the hat from my head, and cover my ears, alone. I am completely alone in a void. Noise, from my open mouth, all around. An explosion, the bricks, all of that level are turned to energy, everything is energy, electric, loud. Head is like it is crumbling. And then...silence. Utter silence, and the dark of the void.

- I wake, on a couch in the lobby. It is a hotel, built in an eclectic style that is vaguely art deco. Sandstone. Old brick, marble. Or something like marble, light green, like old copper. Jade. there is a woman looking at me. She is Kathy bates like. She nods to me when i wake. I look for my case, and hat, but those things are long gone. A few other people, in the lobby. It looks like it is the mid 1950's. The older man, i built with, in the other time/world. He is here. The place is strange. We walk the building, to explore. and talk about things from that void. and before. There is a walkway, that raps around the central atrium. the atrium goes all the way up to the ceiling, which is made of thick, semi translucent glass. On the second level, there are stone tables along the walls here. And benches. On the tables are objects, like on display. there is a railing of copper colored stone. The walls are made of a similar material, with artistic murals made of the jade. Again, all in art deco style. At the center of each wall, are two stone...ancient, crude stone columns. simple ones, of rough stone. That give the impression of having been salvaged from an ancient structure. On either side of each is a grouping of the tables. I approach one, with the man. On many of the tables are single, oversized bones. A partial skull, a huge femur. ancient bones. I touch one. when i do, a presence tells me of them. These bones are sleeping spirits, ghosts. Ones that have gone inward, become fossils. some ghosts walk, and some sleep. I remove my hand from the bone, deep in thought. My face is scowling, in thought. A noise gets my attention. There is a girl, in a pretty dress. She had on a hat, and her hair was done tight under it. the hat had a black lace bit, like a semi veil, with flowers sewn into it. she was standing on the other side of the railing. and falling to her death. Over and over, returning, standing, looking sad, then stepping off. to reform and do it again. This makes me incredibly sad for her, to be stuck in that moment. The sad beauty of her. When she reforms i go to her. I take hold of her arm, and wrap the other arm around her waist, and pull her back. By doing this i wake her. And she looks around, from her perspective, stopped at the moment before dying. It was here i realized,t hat i was dead. that we all were dead, just not all awake. To break her pattern, to make her awake, changed the dynamic in the place. A large ghost, the size of the large femor, what it went to, stood in the center of the atrium, on the bottom floor. Its face was level with me here. Smaller, man sized ones, many, also woke, and flowed through the building like fish through an aquarium. A school. I have a fight with the big ghost. I am not sure how i fought, it was not physical. I had little understanding, like it was a dream i could not recall, in the dream. But when i was done, the woman was awake. The giant and school were gone. And the hotel was now active, full of characters, people, alive as far as we could tell. But i knew, all were dead, and all were ghosts, like myself. A dream.

- And from the dream, i awake. I am in a guest room, a hotel room, in the same building, but changed. I think i have woken from my night's sleep, into reality. I gather myself, and get dressed. I look and dress like i do, in this time, today. 2016. I walk out of the hotel room into an empty hall. the hall takes me past an upper floor lounge. Sitting in a chair, silent, is Lady Gaga. I find this mildly interesting, but of no particular notice. My hand, my arm is outstretched, feeling the wall as i walk. At the end of the room, my hand touches something. Alive. A spider, a great spider the size of a toddler. It bites me, injects me with venom, and then scurries off, into the shadows of the empty corridor. My arm is in pain. I dont feel pain, but i know it there. Darkening, like it was bruised. It is my right hand, my writing hand. I move back, towards my room, not sure what i can do about this. Lady gaga sees this, and rises. She comes over, and takes my hand. She runs her hand on my arms skin. It opens, and the venom runs out. she takes a small bit or orange powder, and rubs it in the wound, and it clears, is clean. I thank her. I sit in an empty chair. I have my notepad and pen. I thank her for doing that, as i need to write. I tell her i was going to warn the ghosts that they were, infact, the dead. But i dont know if i have time. I just dreamed, i am going to take the notes. I explain a small bit of why and what i dreamed as i sit and start writing. She has been silent up to this point. I tell her of dreaming, in this way. She finally speaks. She is excited. She tells me, she, too, sitting in the chair, was dreaming. she seems to think it is connected to what i told her of mine. she wants to write it too, she had never thought of doing that here. I nod my head. And realize i cant write with what i conjured, i need my real pad and pen. I am also pleased, because, although underneath, she was a very ordinary person, in that ordinary person, was the spark of a dream. I also thought that somebody in Rf likes her, and would benefit, even if only for a time, by her presence. So i want to be sure to get it down correctly. I suggest she find a pen and paper. I will help her when she returns. I find a new place to sit, in the main lobby. And i wait. She never returns. this did not surprise me, not being able to stay here for long. It is not, i suppose, meant to be. It hardly ever actually works.


- Before i get done writing, the room is full of trendy people. It is noisy now. The feeling has changed, to that of a busy resort hotel, for young people. Budget holiday, but busy. A woman, at the front desk. Three girls talking to her. One is the woman's daughter. the woman at the counter says lady gaga was a bad guest, a bad spirit. she wants to kill her. She is angry that "he" let her speak. She will die. But do they not understand, that we are all, already dead? I move to speak, but cant quite do so. Instead, i continue to sit, and listen. The woman at the counter, was my wive's mother. My wife, apparently, was the woman who was falling over and over. Somehow, shifting realities, and changing one thing, changed many. In the earlier, empty place, the kathy bates like mother was friendly, and quiet. Here, she was my mother in law, and angry. At me. these were the social changes, characters brought in by freeing the woman, and the bones. It was hard to understand all the reverberations, but i did, in my way. The mother was angry, and i was not needed. The girl, i had married. Changed now, young again. Long dark hair. Dyed black. Feathered. Platinum lines, highlights off each feathered bunch. She told her mother, that she wanted me to be killed. The mother agrees.

- It is clear to me that i never was awake, and remember what my reality is. It is not here. I am still asleep. I am still dead. They are all dead, they are all in this dream. They just dont know it, and cant know it, it seems. I know what they want. Me dead. I know i dont want to be inert, sleeping in this place. I want to find the correct place. I want to try the OTHER hotel. To be there, when it resets. Not only me, we all need to be in the correct place to die. This is about more than the dream, it is life. It is more than the characters here, it is people in my real life as well. In time. It is important where i die, for the narrative reset. We all need to be in the right place to die. Knowing this, i leave the hotel, and move onto the street.

- The street is quiet. No one actually leaves one of these places, it is akin to stopping that woman from jumping over and over. It is like waking. The road between this hotel, and the other, seems much longer than i remember. Halfway between the two, i am stopped. There is a pack of dogs. Five dogs. But they look nothing like dogs. More like jackals, who have lost all their hair to the mange. With rabies. And snouts like a mole, or rat, elongated. But they are "dogs". the growl, and move, threaten. In the center of them, was a figure. My head only comes up to its waist. I can NOT lift my head above this point, i can not see its arms, or face. My body simply will not. It stands still, the center of the dogs. I stand before this. I reach into instinct. I detach. The first thing i know is its a test. a task. So i check my pockets. wallet is useless. I have a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and the pen i use to write. First i take the cigarettes, and fling them at the dogs, fling the open pack so the individual cigarettes go flying out. three remain, i put it back in my pocket. the dogs notice, sniff briefly, but do not react. That did not work. All that is left is the lighter and the pen. Somehow i have drawn closer to the central figure, despite the dogs growling and lunging. this. This thing is the key. I think to punch it in the genitalia, something. But it, as far as i can see, has none. So i start looking on other levels. There is a fold, but not on the surface. Therefore, i conclude its female. Although i'm not certain. How to bother it. In the abstract, out of self, flat space. I see myself punching my fist, with the lighter, into the fold. then lighting the lighter. Keeping it like that till it dies or flees. the other hand, the pen. will jab the other way, past the tail, in the other opening. And keep going until it is lodged. I think these two things, should move it. I will loose my arms. and my hands, but i think, it is the only way. So i do it. I do it, however, on the level of 3d diagrams. So i dont have to see it, or feel it. when the lighter is dead in my hand, and the pen lost, i remove myself. I am back standing before it. The only change i notice, is head, coming from that area. And is standing straighter somehow. And then it stands aside, pleased. I had tried to attack, but i had solved something. I am...worried by this. But i do not care. I will take it.


- I am in the other hotel. The lobby. It is almost time. this place feels smaller, but more modern. I call. I call the leaping one who wanted my killed, because she is still the sad person. And her friends. And others. the old man. I summon them all to this new place. They all sit. Even the mother in law, kathy bates. They know something, the respond. I am relieved. this is the better place to die. this will work better. a great tidal wave, as i knew it would, higher than the mountains, is drawing close. One last look around the room, content, smiling. I am happy. I am happy, even as the building rumbles, the moment before it will hit. The great wave comes. I cry out in joy "the circle will close!"

- Wake and take careful notes. it is, once again, around 4am.

[Senear]

6/7-8/16 Shaman/Hotel, Orange scout/ being taken far away

I

- IT is the daytime, slightly after noon. I have received a message, to go to some sort of shamanic gathering in the los angeles area, and it is something i decided to do for answers. There is a draw, mystery, beyond just wanting to do it. I feel that i need to, and should. I am without transport, and i know this will get in the way of other people's plans for the day. I talk to family, and it is decided, that my sister will take me. She has other plans for the day, but can take me around 8pm, which will get me their on time. Beyond this i do not plan to any great detail. This is, after all, a dream, and the only thing that actually matters is the intent to go. So i am aware this is a dream reality, but it is one very close to the real world, so i will not, for example, most likely just teleport or warp/fly. So, my nephew and I spend the day in palm springs. There is an ice skating ring. We go there, but dont skate. We play some arcade games. We get hamburgers. We go to see an entire film, and then, we walk around. We do these things until 8 pm, when, true to her word, my sister comes to pick us up. For some reason, it is a given, that my nephew needs to go with me, he's not separable in this context. And so, we have a long tired drive into the los angeles area. A few hours. My sister is very tired, it seems, and, a bit grouchy. When we arive, i do not think to ask her to wait, she simply drives off. When i arrive, it is after 11 pm, and very dark. The gathering was set to happen/start 15 minutes before midnight.


- It is the woman, victoria, from that introductory shamanism thing i did in january. Looks a bit shorter for some reason. A few of the people were from that, but others i dont know. This was a small group. Like 6-8 people total, although it was hard to tell, as it was very dark, and i could hardly see the walls around me. She had us sit in a circle, and then, we laid down to enter another state, but not to sleep. I could mostly just hear the woman talking. She was talking about magic, and connecting to spirits. She hit something like a gong, but it sounded more like a tibetan singing bowl, a warbling sound, and then her voice. The state i went into was akin to the more nebulous but still aware states of dreaming i have found myself in recently. Then, it changed. I saw, although not with my eyes, something like an old style reel-to-reel recording, tape, on a spool. It began to play. It was about a man, who may have been an artist. His art was physical, but this was about the spiritual side. It had the production values, and feeling, Of a NPR broadcast on some theater person, or artist. Those broadcasts generally make everything sound "the same" in my estimation. One NPR spot is largely the same in tone and structure as another. This was no different. However, as it was dealing with other things, there was more under the surface. It, the tape, also had the quality of a "taped lesson".

- The man was speaking about time with a shamanistic culture, i believe from Siberia, although, it could have been india near tibet area, that was not entirely clear from the amount of attention i paid to such details in that state. what was key was what bones of a certain type mean in their beliefs. tones. So he decided to strike the bones like they were singing bowls, or gongs. This was then played on the tape/broadcast. The key was the frequency of the sound, and it has an outsized effect in terms of what i would expect.

- I was shifted, and resonating. this resonance did not feel like being shaken, it felt like being embedded in cloth, and the cloth is sounds. I could not hear for a bit. I could not move. I could feel and thing, but only with the tones. It was disconcerting. For a time, i could only hear the shaman lady, but not her physical voice, her inner one, reciting something internally, she was speaking to, the tones. Slowly, i regained the ability to hear, and then move, but i was still inside of this. I was not the only one. I could hear a soft voice, i thought a girl or woman, but then my ears became more attune, and it was infact my nephew. He was very frightened and startled, the same thing was happening to him. The blonde girl, Amyee, the teacher, and another, was attending to him soothing him in an appropriate for a 12 year old way. I let the tones play out. Then i was able to move, and speak, i asked if he was ok, and amyee looked at me and smiled, said yes. I was the only one, still laying down. Slowly i was able to rise.

- Whatever this was, it was over, people were leaving. The woman who put it on was darting around, clearing her space. Clearly i couldn't just sleep here, or stay. I take out my phone to call my sister. She was home already, she would not or could not return to pick me up. I was befuddled about what to do. The woman amyee was listening, she was still talking to nephew. She seemed to be very present, and she said she would help us go somewhere to wait. I smiled in relief. But before i left, i wanted some answers. I stopped the shaman who was flitting around. I told her what had happened, and wanted to know why and what that was. She said rather vaguely that "A powerful spirit had descended, and thats what i had experienced". I could not help but ask, "who, and why". She said, like it was a grudging sharing of information, that it was a being on a level of a god. "why was i in that state". Again, grudgingly, she said it was a message. this time she followed it up without making me poke for the information. She said "the message was that you need to decide to be one way or another, you can not stay half in one way and half in another". this amde some scense, like i needed to be like her, OR i needed to be more in another aspect, like the world. So i understood. Spiritual/Tonal. But it does not answer my real concern. How. I do not know how to be one or the other, i do not know how to do either. there was no more help with that. She did say that it happened because that god was already around me, that i had summoned it, and its been around for some time, seeing me not being either thing...for it or the world. I briefly thought of the gods i might have invoked. It didnt feel like bible god or something like that, It felt like something similar to Papa Legba. Which would fit my recent experiences. But that is a worry for another time.

It's always something
There's always something going wrong
That's the only guarantee
That's what this is all about
It's a never ending attack
Everything's a lie, and that's a fact
Life is a lemon and I want my money back!

- True to her word, the woman amyee brings a car. but i look at it. It is like a campfire of stones, but longer, more like an elongated wilderness grave. It is open. I see this thing moving on the street, and im speaking to her from inside. I stretch to fit in it, and when i enter, inside, it is, infact a car. Something like a toyota corolla or something, about 8 years old it seems or even older. And it has normal dimensions, windows, from the inside. I tell her it is nice. She laughs at that, says mine is nice too. I tell her, that i do not have one, do I? That's why i need the ride. But i dont think she hears me. She has a persona. It reminds me of the actress, from the nineties, Helen hunt. the types of characters that person would play. Has reminded me consistently of that person, the humor projected.

- She seems to be taking me to a hotel. Oddly, it is evening again, not night. There are barricades on the road, she just guns the gas and goes between them. When it is time to park, she slides the car sideways to a stop like a stunt. It seems way too energetic, and exciting to me. Im always trying to controll my vehicle so im not doing such things...unless i need to. We get out.

- through the barricades their are four towers. Large hotels, and one condo it seems. Arranges around a plaza, that she cut through the barricade and into to park, to avoid the valet. The towers all look like they were build in the early to mid 1980s. they have that look. One is a trump condo, not going there. The others are like a hyatt and other similar hotels. Before we go in, we are joined by a man. Her husband. He does not have the same presence, but seems very comfortable supporting her whims like this, he seems to know me. He may have been at the thing earlier. I notice his hair. Its like somebody with a stubbly buzzed head let it grow half way back, it seems strange to me. Otherwise the features seem soft, not overly strong or weak. We go into one of the hotels, they lead.

- As soon as i enter the hotel. And they are looking for the check in desk, i am accosted by a loud, wannabee "wolf of wall street" type. He says "you, you want to push the cart with my luggage, you want a tip, of course you do. Come here". I mumble some apology that im not the valet. I walk away, towards the others. They had turned to watch the exchange. Amyee tells me "that was incredibly patient, and polite of you. I would have shoved it all in his ass, and offered him this tip "use vaseline before you try and pull it out" I smile faintly, and say i try to be polite to rude people, its defensive perhaps.... my voice trails off. they turn to book a room. It is a lot of talking. I am standing back a bit to speak up when its time to contribute or pay. But my nephew...hes sliding around the slick marble floor in his socks. Just by seeing this, soon, i am too. no shoes, sliding like on ice. Like tom cruise in that movie. I notice a turn, in the corridor. The dream is not built past there, its not for a child to see, so i turn and go back with nephew. They have already booked the room, and i know not to speak up about cost by their look and demeanor.

- The attendant takes us to the room. There are four small bed, more like day bed mattresses, arranged in a way not dis similar to how the towers were around the plaza. People immediately get into beds. I wait till last to see where they want me. I have a bit of confusion...and i supposed to get close, no, boys side/girls side what. the woman sleeps int he long one, My nephew above, the man gets in a separate one. What is left, is like a thin mattress. that hangs from two metal bars like a hammock. I've never used one, but i notice how if i lay how i do in my real bed, it will be like im cradled in an arm. I carefully lay down, and it is silent. It is like going into another trance. But this time, it wakes me, when i slip into that state, the other end is my eyes/waking world. And i take notes, and go back to sleep.

II

- There were many dreams in between these two sections, this is the next one i recalled, clearly, and is the last dream cycle before i wake.

- I enter a dream, and there is a man, falling, like he jumped out of an airplane. He is fighting these ninja girl type characters, who are also falling, spirals. Darting in and out, and when he strikes, groups fall rapidly. I dive near him, to understand. But soon, the...it all ends. The man is laying in his belly, on the floor. It is a room, perhaps a bedroom. He is almost nude save for boxers. All around are scattered toys, like plastic army men. I take one of them and look more carefully. They are the ninja girls, and they have carved expressions of them landing, similar to the man. The man is JJ. He rises and i want to speak to him, but he seems embarrassed and eager to leave, and does not say much. I begin to look around, i am interested in how it went from one thing, to this normal looking room. I hold one of the plastic figures to my eyes, and admire the detailed craftsmanship, they had just been alive. and yet, they had been mass produced. I really look hard into the energy that made them.

My gun is loaded
I'm a six-shot heart attack
I pull the trigger
So you better watch your back
Looking out for #1 so you had better take this piece of advice
Make your move
Stick 'em up or kiss your ass goodbye


- When i look away, i see it, peering at me. A being that is all orange. It is like its technicolor, painted a solid orange, like a cartoon character. It has a shape vaguely like cartoon flame. Three bits of flame are hair. Very alive, and alert eyes. It is frozen, as i have seen it. I speak to it, i say that the work on these figures is exquisite. It relaxes some. I say it is a shame that JJ left, but, i would like to understand what it did and how, with the room in dreaming. That i would like to talk to it, and perhaps we could play, outside of its working. It agrees and is enthusiastic.

- It becomes a young man, standing next to a new model pickup truck. The feeling in the figure it created is that of an enthusiastic young man who left his corner of the world, and wants to explore the wider reality. He seems familiar, but is not someone i know. An archetype, perhaps. He then gets something like cardboard visor for the front of the truck. It reminds me of those google glasses one can make with cardboard and an old smartphone, but the windshield is the screen. I look carefully at what he does, and then he motions me to join him in the truck.



- Via the screen, the space in the truck shifts like what i saw, when i first entered...a larger dream space. What i see is lines of light, spirals, a travelling affect, but it stretches around me, like i am moving through space. We travel into stars, and their music shifts us more and more, like gates. Then he nudges me and tells me to move my head. It seemed like i was moving but no. With his nudge, i find my body, and lay my head and body down on the seat. This shifts the lock, my perspective. Now all i see is a huge ball of light, hot, bright, a white void. He explains that is what one sees, when they aren't angled correctly with the rays and tones, a vaste awareness, like a white hole. It seems this is done, and i leave the truck. And when i exit, it is not there. Like it was never wherever i am, i am simply blinking into existence.

Is this the place that I want to be
Is it you who I want to see
Holding on, hold it high, show me everything
And you're leaving me, yeah you're leaving me
you're leaving me with a hated identity
But I keep on a comin' here and standing in this state
And I'm never really sure if you'll take what I'm saying the right way
But I'm not appalled or afraid verbal pocket play
Is as discreet as I can muster up to be
Because the Cadillac that's sittin' in the back
It isn't me
Oh, no, no, no it isn't me
I'm more at home in my galaxie

- I m not sure where i am, or what i am to do. It starts organizing itself to what i would expect; the town i was a child. shifting, but it does not become that, it just arranges similarly. the elements that are here. So i begin walking towards my home, when i was 13 years old. Its sorta corresponds. To my right,a cross a field, is the area my grandmother lived. I look at it now. Instead of a somewhat ghetto area, its a new housing development, gates. I hear children laughing, it is movie day in the park. I listen more. They are showing the cartoon "disney's hercules" I have not seen it, but this one seems as discussed on the medusa as much as him. I just note that, and the laughter. this is not right. I look up, and the street im on branches into a T and there are no homes where mine should be. That is not right either. I look towards the mountain, mount san jacinto. the mountains above me seem similar, but san jacinto, behind me. Instead of one large mountains, there are two small and alien peaks. Also, the sun is in the sky between them, like the sun rises from north to south not east to west. Its very wrong. alien. Even though the elements are similar to what i may fine, they dont mathc up, and are just the energy masks my mind makes. I know i am in an utterly alien and unfamiliar place. But i should be where i started.

- I do not know where to move, to find exits, or gates. I call out for the "mayor" of this world, and am pulled into her office. I tell her that i am far from where i live, and im not sure where i even am. Close enough for familiar physical form, but the details are completely wrong. She listens a bit. I have a piece of paper, i draw the rout that i took with the orange being on it. She looks at it. She holds it, and expands it in four dimensions. then what happened is clear enough. I jumped through 11 stars, in a loop. on the paper, i should be now back. But thats a 2 dimensional perspective. In 3d and four D it is clear what happened. Those stars done line up. the end point was pulled in third and fourth dimension sideways. I am the length of the round trip pulled sideways. 11 light years. Still in the local cluster, but another part of it. The orange being was not exactly sure where i came from when it returned me. the math was off. this far out, i do not know how to retrace my steps. Just walking the streets, i would be walking for longer then the universe exists to return. that wont work.

- the mayor says she can sell me a ticked back. It will cost me exactly 6043 standard credits. I decide whatever that amount is, i have left in me. the mayor can somehow see what energy i have left over, from the early resonance phase in dreaming. I write the number on a slip of paper and give it to her. She then writes the number again on a piece of bright orange paper, and gives it back to me to hold. She then tells me it is a small craft, not rated for more then what can fit in a SUV. That the price will include two lessons on navigation and piloting. I am surprised. I had not purchased a ride, i had purchased a small scout craft, like the orange scouts, as best i can understand it. she nods and i leave, putting the paper in my pocket.

- Leaving her office is harder then entering. I am going down flights of stairs, like catwalks, downward. On each floor their are open doors. through them i see a great diversity of dreams. I pass one, and there is a "woman" hanging in the doorway, smoking a cigarette. Something about her screams "thief". Sadly, i had been holding the slip of paper in my hand, looking at the number, trying to get more info out of it...like when these stairs would end. She sees the amount written on it. She quickly stubs out her cigarette and the doorframe, and starts following me. I feel all sorts of projected dreams im slapping them away and moving faster. She really wants to steal whatever i got.

- She is not able to trick me out of it. Or shift me to a dream where she can get it. At last, i am at the bottom of the stairs. Its a small guarded lobby, and then there is a large glass door. What i see on the other side is the same light i saw, when i shifted my head, in the truck. there are three guards down here. Women, like amazon extras from zena or something. The would-be thief pursuing me looks sorta like an 80s punk girl, but with long black hair not spiked. So the thief declares that i STOLE her slip. And the three guards stare at me. I say i did not such thing, that she saw me looking at it, and pursued me. They dont listen to me. they dont even care to hear me. She repeats what she said, and the three start moving towards me. I am frozen, speaking, and they all draw closer. I say this is ridiculous, to call the mayor. they will do no such thing. 2 of the guards are close, and i stun them by clapping my hands together, similar to what happened to me, but more forceful. They are also wanting to be a part of the robbery, they aren't guards against that. I look at the other two, they hesitate. I say again call the mayor, but they wont. I check my pocket. the slip of paper is in there too. You know, nothing is stopping me from just leaving but my trying to be right/prove im not the thief the woman is. What a clever, silly trap. I walk out the door, and wake right away.

I'm the dandy highwayman who you're too scared to mention
I spend my cash on looking flash and grabbing your attention
The devil take your stereo and your record collection
The way you look you'll qualify for next year's old age pension
Stand and deliver your money or your life!
Try and use a mirror no bullet or a knife!
I'm the dandy highwayman so sick of easy fashion
The clumsy boots, peek-a-boo roots that people think so dashing
So what's the point of robbery when nothing is worth taking?
It's kind of tough to tell a scruff the big mistake he's making
Stand and deliver your money or your life!
Try and use a mirror no bullet or a knife!

And even though you fool your souls
Your conscience will be mine all mine

- Seems my sleep self was ahead of my body. As i wake, i hear myself. i am yelling. "call the mayor!" . a person was even at my door talking to me, then had walked away before i was fully awake. I asked latter, seems i had been yelling for a few moments. Seems they heard calling and me saying the mayor...and they figured i was sleep talking so left. lol. But in the dream, i had stopped/figured it out before i exited xD. so it was weird physical self lag. lol.

[Senear]

6/9-10/16 Rocket class, Humminbird and alligator wedding

- really nice state in dreaming. there was so much going on, and it was a continuous story, like a lifetime, that i didnt want to leave. So i kept going back to sleep and it would all pick up. As a result, i slept a bit more then 12 hours, even though i could have woken after 7. So just some highlights, as i didnt wake to write for fear of breaking it, and when i woke, i didnt write then either.

- After many dreams, things are focussing on rocket launches, spacex, but in the reality of previous dreams for me. A long, low series of buildings, perhaps a launch complex control area, in an area that reminded me of florida, so perhaps cape canaveral. Each launch was more then a simple thing, each has personality, and has thousands of people, engineers, scientists to see it through. There was soon another one. I was thinking how, in old dreams, 4 years ago, these would happen in a residential area, like a park, in a nice area of southern california towards LA. And how in many dreams i would go, like to fireworks, and watch them rise. Now, there was all this formal and safe stuff, in a proper location. Like the idea matured with the reality. I had mixed feelings about that, i could "do" more with the sort of less organized reality. But i still got an invitation, and i wanted to go.

- Strangely, when we arrive, its a smaller group then i thoughts, and some children or young people. Some younger engineers were using this to explain science concepts in a fun and hip way, which is actually what the company does with their live launch broadcasts, which have a pretty big following and they show them in schools and colleges becasue they make it interesting. I was somewhat...nonplussed that i was in a interested novice class.

- At some point it became sitting at desks and then a large white table. And people were asking questions, and then being asked questions, like a quiz. On topics my logical mind is not so great at. It felt like math, but it wasnt, it was questions. that one had to "figure". I like to measure with my fingers and be big picture not so detailed. I give my answer and it is wrong. I wrote it. I spoke it. And then i dont want to say more. I am not...handling it well. The questions to me were about the mission, the larger picture, i thought for sure i knew the "destiny" of it. Spreading life, growth, future, etc. And Yet i was told by one of these hipster engineers it was wrong. Indignant. i was around when it was just me, the guy doing it, and a couple of oddballs. Now there is no real space for me? I got annoyed when some vaguely familiar people seemed to be giving the right answers ( kao im thinking and based on what she asked me about dreaming in a pm i think it was her). But also wg and other people. Which reminded me: One of the things i was supposed to be doing is looking for the words black market or forbidden improper conjugations for wg. In the dream i thought this was to help her on her quest to be less formal and rigid in how she conceptualizes language, and what it actually represents. And yet here i am, getting "words" and "concepts" "wrong". This was important, becasue she had woken up briefly, and told me she dreamed of me in such a place, when i was awake, so i wanted to find it. And i hadn't and maybe wouldn't. this added to my mood of silence. I dont much enjoy not knowing and or having a clue it seems.

- The rocket launches. I see it through a window, as i sit. IT seems more divorced from me. Its also all very symbolic. I leave, after some time.

- but it does not end. I am a much older man. I live in a small house on some sort of pension, near this place, which has become old, and is no longer used. It fulfilled its purpose. There are others like me, somehow connected, in small, modern homes. maintained. but thats not the world anymore. There are also...younger ones, who come to learn the secrets of the place, to build on it in their own way on their own spaces. Some of them even occupy the launch area like...a scientifically oriented secret society. And yet they rarely seem to seek out the old ones. And none, it would seem, would seek this old one out as her...does not fit in a way that is seen.

- Two old ones, one day, meet. Their is a protocol. Both seem american, and speak english, but the one calling and the one receiving both make a point to declare that their bodies are not resting in what is known as the united states. Their real bodies, not this...place. Well im here, and seeing, and my name is andrew, and i certainly AM there. But they dont see me, so i dont volunteer that. Im not really sure what exactly they are on about, its not actually rocket science. Its more spiritual/sorcery.

- Time. so much time, passed. Buildings are below the swamp, sea is lower. and yet i still am around. I am not human anymore. I have devolved hundreds of millions of years. I am an alligator. I have a beehive hairdo, becasue i remember them. And i am wearing 50's cats eye glasses. My home is still, as it was, under the mud, through my muddy burrow.


- Finally, i am sought out. All thats left are stories, that have nothing to do with past, more myths, that almost remember. there is a concern to all the animals. Mr deer, and wolf, and badger. And the birds. A sickness in the land, from something ancient. Bones. they seek me. Because im the oldest of them all, from before time some say, although that really is silly, the wise ones know and i wont much talk. And my mouth has sharp teeth, and i may be cranky. But they all come to my hole. And i let them in. And then they are inside, and can not believe the place, the house they find. I serve them tea.

- I know what is wrong. One of the things buried, is an old ICBM derived booster, nothing to do with my rockets. the perchlorates and benzine, degrading. the bone was disturbed. A bone of solid rocket fuel. Its makes the folk, as i call them sick. It needs to be dug up, taken away, and burned. they must be careful, using leaves, other things. hardy ones to move it. Burn it away, on a rock by the sea. ignite it with the hottest fire, and then cast the ash into the sea far away. like an old shamans wisdom, but really, how to get rid and ignite the rocket fuel, which does not easily burn. they need a dragon. But thats what it is.


- I think its done, and im going to find some fish to eat. A bird, a hummingbird comes from the sky, and he LIFTS me be a single claw. He is talking the whole time. I have to explain, what i know. Hummingbird is the most beautiful of all the folk in the forest. Like a king, not strongest, but most beutiful. He has a voice, a south american accent, suave and debonair. the sun lights his feathers like magic, and all the animals stop to admire him as flies around. He has me by the claw, and we are flying, it is hard, but he is managing. He is telling me that know he knew i was the one he was looking for, to marry. he will take me to his nest and male me his wife because of my saving the forest and wisdom etc. this is very strange. Im not a woman. Im not even an animal, really. Im me in a dream. But he is talking so fast. I just manage to say "that really isn't necessary" my god my voice is even like Ros from monsters inc. when hes telling me of my reward. He drops me in his tiny nest he made, and somehow i fit. then he summons the eldest.

- At the top of the great tree, lives the eldest. Above. She is an elephant. And not any elephant, a pink elephant. Her skin its not elephant skin, which sorta looks like scales. it is, but they are diamond shaped not square. it is striking. Hummingbird tells her of his plan, and asks if this is the right one. He tells her what happened, and elephant smiles and looks at me. And she laughs, happy. She says...this was the ancient legend, or prophesy. And she sees me. what i knew/am. Excited. She tells the hummingbird something, and he flies off to look for flowers, to decorate. She finds him funny and nice. She tells me what this is, and knows who i must be. And then waves her trunk, tells me i need to elave, and thanks me for staying till this, with them. And then, i wake.

[Senear]

7/26-27/16 Painting level of God

- To start, it was something like a strange, hyper real narrative. There was a man and a woman, they would go on trips, in a car, to sedona, spiritual themed things, to catch a glimpse. They were always looking out the side of their eyes, to catch these flashes in time, that would zoom past, not unlike widely spaced streetlights might seem to wiz past a car in motion. The thing they were so hungry to find, and only saw these flashes that went by so quick, was meaning, understanding, spirituality in some sense of the word.

- There was a concurrent, other level of things, that was like the mirror to them...beings, the mirror of these two, and others. Short and childlike, i saw this in the glimpses that i saw through there eyes. Part of me split to be there, and part here. A good portion of me, however, stayed grounded in my actual self, that knew i was dreaming, the room around me, etc.

- The journey, for the other selves of these people, was, like the other level, a narrative or a story that they gave definition and plot via their perception and interaction. The more childlike, but rougher selves, and i could not but help think of them as hobbits, as a bit of a definitional joke, found one of those places; a fairy like gathering in a woods, that was just one of the flashes the other two had barely registered.

- The spirits there laid out a huge feast on wooden trestle tables. All sorts of things, like pork and vegetables; abundant, good, but also simple. They bid the travelers welcome, but there was a stern warning; "Eat only until one is full, is no longer hungry, but do not take on bite beyond that state". I could see/understand, know, from the guiding spirits, that to do so was as disrespectful as pulling off an old mans clothes and lashing him. they felt it in a similar way. And so, the great feast was started.

- The man and the woman saw a flash, it was off in the forest. The woods, and area, looked to me like the pacific northwest of the united states, the moss and ferns, to me, seemed indicative of something like the olympia temperate rain forest. Back and forth they rushed. They parked their SUV. They were walking into the woods, towards something like, but not light. Driven by something like, but not, the hunger that drove the other selves.

- The feast was fine, so many dishes, hard to sample a fraction and not be full. So they ate. I could feel when they were no longer hungry, but, the mind might say that one still is. This was not a trap as such, they KNEW, but they allowed it without a shift in disposition as long as it was not said, rude, aware. The male little hobbit type being, said, "these potatoes sweetened with yam are...perfect, i was full on those, but this pork and apple, i have to eat more" Still, the mood did not yet change. He took a large piece of pork, with pink skin, and put it in his mouth, and bit of half. Then paused. He declared, in his mind or out loud it was not clear, that he was too full. And placed the piece of meat back on his plate. Not to be finished. The teeth marks in the flesh were exaggerated. Time slowed. IT was like a gong, not a gong, but the slow...exaggerated moment.

- In the forest, with the two, it is chaos. The feeling of light is replaced by actual wind. A crack in the sky, driving rain. Branches whipping. the two, who went into the woods. Pause, they runa round like crazy looking for shelter. But there is none. And the rock cried out "no hiding place, there is no hiding place down here" OR i heard it. it was a song.


There's no hiding place down ground
Well, I run to the rocks and I hide my face
The rocks cried out, No hiding place
There's no hiding place down here


Oh, the devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe
The devil, he wears a hypocrite's shoe
The devil wears hypocrite's shoe
If you don't watch, he'll slip it on you
There's no hiding place down here

- Screaming, flame. The assembled spirits, angry, a wailing. Fire. IT's too much, for the greedy ones. I am reassured. OF course they knew the nature of those that come, the...4 who were primary, were not upset. IT was...part of the experience. That was enough, to keep me impartial, experiencing, the...frenzy i hardly understood.

- Time. Morning...more time than that? A morning. The man and the women, in the car. Rushing, faster. Trying to catch another flash. There is nothing. No matter how much they drive, were they go, nothing but unbroken reality. This seems to be all they do now, searching. they are not happy, with even each other. Miserable in each others company, in some way. They drive. they drive roads full of rocks, full of sharp rocks, reckless. Along the sea. Into the forest. Nothing. Finally, a road too rocky.

- One of the tires, not punctured, sliced. The man holds it, thinking how to fix. The tires are honeycombed, filled with a jell like resin, to survive such places. A jagged piece of obsidian, had finally brought the drive to an end. The car, is in an area, similar to where i saw them before. He manages to affix the cut piece enough to move the car of the road. The tension between the two is almost too much for me to maintain cohesion. infact, i pull out, into the forest for a time and wait.

- IT is the middle of the night. there is a very heavy rain. The place where they parked the car, it is flooded, the car seems to be floating. They are still asleep. I use the rain, a heavy burst, to wake them. The car has detached from the bank. They think they will wait it out. A peal of thunder. They realize they need to get out, abandon it, but they are unwilling. Something has to be done but what, its hard when you dont think, i think explaining now. not then.

- It is morning. the sun is up. The car is on grass. But it had clearly been flooded. IT will not start again. IT is warm, like spring. They seem to accept the sudden shift. The man walks out, he walks up the bank, so does the woman. They dont seem to...remember. He looks at it, and looks away. He proclaims that he is starting to go broke, the beginning of being destitute, this loss after loss. She seems angry. He reminds me of me when he says that, what he means, energy, expense. But no, that's not me, its just...everyone that ever was or is, reminds me of me. And this one, proclamation, about energy, more specifically.

Hello
I've waited here for you
Everlong
Tonight I throw myself in two
Out of the red
Out of her head she sang
Come down and waste away with me
Down with me
Slow, how you wanted it to be
I'm over my head
Out of her head she sang
And I wonder
When I sing along with you
If everything could ever feel this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when
She sang
Breathe out
So I can breathe you in
Hold you in
And now
I know you've always been
Out of your head
Out of my head I sang

- This needs to be done. For their sake, and mine. Its enough of the reaction phase. I had found a house, that, infact, was the dwelling of what they sought. They had been driving around and around it. Its an old victorian farmhouse in a field of a dirt and gravel road. there i guide them, to be safe in the night. It is night again, was little transition. The knock on the door, apprehensive. I stand back watching. Im not actually there, nor was i ever anything solid in any of this.

- There are groups graduating up from small children to middle aged. Four groups. I know what theya re. Like the being sin the forest. the same underneath. I had noted at some point that the two levels had merged into one, they never noticed. So they sort those people away. To my surprise, the adress me. I am further surprised i am with my nephew again. I didnt notice. A group takes him. six year olds. They say they are equivalent. I am surrounded and led by 15-20 year olds. I tell them, this is funny, why. Both of us are infact twice the age we are assigned. a bit more than twice. I make a hoke about having turned forty a few hours before, right before i went to sleep. Smiles/non reaction or commentary in return.

- These, people, beings. I understand, like i understood before. They see everything, feel, observe, becasue they are pure and without that sort of definition. In a way, they would take each, peacefully, and see them. This, i would think, should frighten me, but it never does. They take me to a a large room with many small beds. Its nice enough, thoughts, unfiltered, directly. But quickly, whats in me is out in the open. And there is one voice. It notes everything. Its like a running commentary, as each new disgusting aspect is manifest it calls it. IT's not emotional, thats what is disturbing. Its spoken from and by the pure voice of a nine year old child. There is nothing to be mad at. I dont get reactions like shame. I get this...wanting to move, walk. do something, but not to address it.

- It notes strange things. Things from when i was two. Some are normal human things that are nothing. Some are deep and dark. I dont want to write them, i dont want to go into it, becasue i did not there. Some of the thing is would have expected were the worst, were never mentioned. some that i did not know, are normal part of living, were. It wsnt a catalogue of misdeeds, it was observations of what are. They are different. Any one of them, i could have been unnerved by. But i focussed.

- I began to walk in a circle. And then i was making steps, like dancing in a drum circle perhaps. I began to vocalize. there were four key points in the circle. where is tepped ehavy. Everything was commented on. And is tarted slow and unsure, as i built up. "he steps heavy, downbeats that depress, drag downward". the child said. the vocalizations are polluted it said. then it turned into music. From outside/in. Not what one would expect, and not to the rhythm of what i was doing. I listened. Interstate love song by stone temple pilots. Which, in the reaction, was commente don, might as well ahve been the darkest screamo. what it was wouldn't matter you see.

Feelin' like a hand in rusted shame
So do you laugh at those who cry?
Reply?

Leavin' on a southern train
Only yesterday you lied,
Promises of what I seemed to be
Only watched the time go by
All of these things you said to me

Breathing is the hardest thing to do
With all I've said and all that's dead for you
You lied
Good bye

- this was a circular reaction to that voice i simply would not or could not react to or focus on all the hooks. like hands. I quickly moved on. More, i started...in what i was doing, nothing else was real in that moment. the four were posted, four clear basic...resonances inside. It took on a dynamic of its own. The only connection i had to anything was that voice critiquing and not liking anything it perceived.

- Pulses and resonances. A building of energy in patterns. I only can explain becasue of that voice. IT was saying things like "look how god rejects him, pulls away from the approach". What i was perceiving was this circular growth, like bubbling, of fluid from nothing. Not fluid, but similar. In it, with the words i was hearing, pulses that would make it black, or lighter, it would mix, and recoil, one would be stronger than the other. IT was beyond the shifting i've seen often, that happen inside of dreams, with those iob types of beings when they lock gaze. Whatever i was doing, and i didnt have a form again, maybe dancing? was shifting the waters/oil substance. As it reacted to certain things. It mixed. not the lighter or blacker. somehow, i mixed it to a purple blue type color. Violet perhaps? but a bit darker. There was small bits of dark and no color still/gold or absence of dark. This went on until...it withdrew, i was done. Falls away. The childs voice is also silent.

- I am sitting in the middle of the circle i made dancing, that space. My knees are drawn up. Im staring at my hands. the quiver. Like with energy not exhaustion, they vibrate. they are covered by the substance i saw, a thin layer. It is slowly absorbing into the skin or dissipating.

- Another voice, one of the smaller children. Has a british accent. She says simply "He touched the painting level, painted with it. they meant the energy reactions...the quicksilver like...i assume. With or at around god was the unsaid part. I looked at my hands again,. i raised them and licked them. I wanted to swallow some of that so i didnt loose it? It had no taste. It was smooth and clear. It felt like something without feeling like anything. So i put my hands back out. Fascinated by the substance dissolving into my hands, and seeing every little wrinkle and pore in my skin. Also, i couldn't really do anything in that state but look. I had no speech in me even in mind.

- this happened quickly. The girls voice said "we have to tell her the one she said might come some day, shes been talking about, is here. he painted. The mean voice is now sullen, or miffed. He just says "he could have done it somewhere else than my bedroom". This is sweet/funny to me, but no emotion still. it ends any open curiosity about the flaws proclaimed. IT really was a child, and innocent in this way. Well, my hands dry, they resonate. And i wake from that as it fades. So i didnt really listen to *$*! she said, the other child about the lady. No real curiosity then or now about that or any of that. Really, only what i touched/perceived. that was it. The rest, was, in its way, like the proclamations of flaws, if that makes any sense.

[Senear]

3/2-3/18

- Strange interconnecting dreams more like multiple fractal viewpoints with these green jade-like columns of uncut stone. They were arranged in patterns, and the whole thing was taking place inside some organic looking cavern. I remembered it was a colony or temple I thought of it as. 

- There was a lot of pressure on my -awareness- in that space, like a person underwater. I did something with the columns, interacted with them using thought tones. When I did that, a story/reaction happened. There were these beings, almost all of them female apparently. Subgroups. My interacting caused a big upheaval. The old leader or queen was killed by her daughters. At this point I only knew the gender, they weren't human or humanoid things. 


- it was a big genocide/civil war slaughter. When they were few, and whatever ones were -touched- by the changes i made to relieve the pressure won, then I was allowed to project forms onto things like proper lucid dreamers report they do. Then it was clear they really were female. The one that had been shadowing me was a young woman, all topless, with lots of gold and silk jewelry, reminded me of Minoan art. there was a new throne of that jade stone, that another one was sitting on. I only felt 6-8 of them in that tone reality. Then they did some bowing sex type thing, which didn't line up with what I saw because it involved an invisible phalic? Not sure how that could work. I knew they were ritually creating more of themselves, and it had to do with the tone that had become the reality so it was quiet. I was surprised i didn't feel embarrassed to see it. The cavern had shrunk and reminded me of a vessel, moving in a weird void...something like a window beyond the throne. A fluid space that was not water. 


- Somehow I was supporting them till they grew. This seemed good because i wasn't stuck in the pressure stones, and they had aligned with my tone, so, consequently, their existence lessens my own pressure in existence. It was known their existence would add weight to my own, without being subsumed by them. A higher tone vs a lower suppression of mass. I think when I wake these were IOBs.

[Senear]

Another way to Represent the subtext of what I posted above is one of the cross-referential tones. It is and is not music, just as words are and are not representative of actuality. It's all symbols and symbology. that is why I tend to write in a way that is literally representative of a single aspect or level of awareness in the dream realms but refers to the unsayable subtext. People like to talk and compare abstractions to justify and rationalize their perceptions, but more often, to justify their ordering. Seeing what one needs to preserve the fictions and truths that keep us believing we are sane and are a primary pooling of awareness. 

I don't like to talk when talking, invariably, or representation feeds into a meta-structure of willful...needfull... self-delusion. 

I like to contrast perspectives to create fractals. This is one that speaks to the dream i posted above this. They need to be played at the same time. A mark of a perceiver is to find the space between the waves and images, that allows for a deeper penetration into perspective. If ll it is is...noise...then you can not perceive reality, and all your thoughts and hopes are recursive self-explanatory programming. Which is not, actually, all that interesting, or real. Dross. 

 

---------------- Pressure/perspective/creative-tension------------------------

[Senear]

Another way to Represent the subtext of what I posted above is one of the cross-referential tones. It is and is not music, just as words are and are not representative of actuality. It's all symbols and symbology. that is why I tend to write in a way that is literally representative of a single aspect or level of awareness in the dream realms but refers to the unsayable subtext. People like to talk and compare abstractions to justify and rationalize their perceptions, but more often, to justify their ordering. Seeing what one needs to preserve the fictions and truths that keep us believing we are sane and are a primary pooling of awareness. 

I don't like to talk when talking, invariably, or representation feeds into a meta-structure of willful...needfull... self-delusion. 

I like to contrast perspectives to create fractals. This is one that speaks to the dream I posted above this. They need to be played at the same time. A mark of a perceiver is to find the space between the waves and images, that allows for a deeper penetration into perspective. If ll it is is...noise...then you can not perceive reality, and all your thoughts and hopes are recursive self-explanatory and self-generated recursive programming. Which is not, actually, all that interesting, or real. Dross. 

 

---------------- Pressure/perspective/creative-tension------------------------

[delawaredan]

now we are here....sacrificed at war.

[glance left]

Dan-oh!  How ya doin, mate?!

[delawaredan]

I'm doing really good now. I've wrestled the beast but I'm getting stronger. I've missed you guys.

[glance left]

. From one Mexican wrestler to another, I’ve miss you too! I know all about wrestling the beast, believe me

[SSable]

Hi RF members, I thank you all for the intents and support you’ve sent me, I send ALL your intents towards me  back to you!

[Kaomea]

SSable wrote:
Hi RF members, I thank you all for the intents and support you’ve sent me, I send ALL your intents towards me  back to you!

Hihi love. You're welcome. I've known you for a long time and always try to help my sisters. Keep going! You're doing great <3

[SSable]

Thank you for helping!

[SSable]

SSable wrote:
Hi RF members, I thank you all for the intents and support you’ve sent me, I send ALL your intents towards me  back to you!

And when saying this I didn’t assume any bad intent from anyone, I thought the best

[Kaomea]

Great! We love you too!

[Julio Juliopolis]

SSable wrote:
SSable wrote:
Hi RF members, I thank you all for the intents and support you’ve sent me, I send ALL your intents towards me  back to you!

And when saying this I didn’t assume any bad intent from anyone, I thought the best

Thanks for mentioning that. I was unsure when I read your first post. I wish the best for you going forward too.

[SSable]

Julio Juliopolis wrote:
SSable wrote:

And when saying this I didn’t assume any bad intent from anyone, I thought the best

Thanks for mentioning that. I was unsure when I read your first post. I wish the best for you going forward too.

Thank you

[Senear]

8/1-2/18

In it, in the darkness, Afraid, I'm in it. I'm in it...so win it. Yes win it. 

- A silly title, but its something I found humor in when I tried to wake myself in a false waking. I turned it into a song. Last night I dreamed in a way and with an intensity, I have not for the past two years. I post dreams, what I remember, and it may sound the same, but it is not the same. Dreams with their own life, energy, that bring energy, don't take it. At least two years. Why and what would be another post, so ill just relate this one. This is the first time I've woken partially to take notes in 2-3 years as well. 


Red lights, hungry eyes
Sucks like a space invader
The vacuum of its lies
Stealin' my strength, stealin' my time
It's raining in a world of traders
Let me keep on sleeping
Forget that I'm alone
One day of faceless living-
is twenty-four hours too long


- Moving in an elevator, vaguely upwards. I was gathered, its transcending awareness...from non-aware to aware. Vague figures in it with me. Becomes different as i move. It is "relatives". I believe my mother, others, but they/I aren't really there yet. It is a sensation like a quick elevator up a high rise....doors open...and its another level of energy, like im alive and before i was not. 

- Its a plaza with marble benches. It is like a balcony between highrises, high. A transition space. Awnings. Quiet. But heavily used. Not a place for me, like a place in new your...a place for my cousin who is an investment banker, people like that. A party. For my sister (it is almost her birthday on Friday). People come out and begin setting up. effortlessly. Like the highly trained staff at expensive places. People start arriving, feels very imminent and real. Gathering. Everyone is well dressed. Im well dressed, but i wear it like a prop or uncomfortably. 

- Building people, spirits i have not seen in so long. My mother. I am chocking, a line like the inside of my pumpkin out my mouth. I pull it tight to bit it off like i always do. Mother looking. I lift her to let her see inside. Her recoil. I am terminally ill, a reaction like that. I feel what she sees, the ball of germs or damage in brown. I close the peak. Its ok, i think, it always happens. And i pass out. 


If there's a new way,
I'll be the first in line.
But it better work this time.
What do you mean, "I hurt your feelings"?
I didn't know you had any feelings.
What do you mean, "I ain't kind"?
Just not your kind.
What do you mean, "I couldn't be the President
Of the United States of America"?
Tell me something, it's still "We the people, " right?
If there's a new way
I'll be the first in line
But it better work this time
Can you put a price on peace?


- I wake, the same setting, but time has passed. Like i missed the party. I feel healed a bit. There are five beings. They radiate "wealth" in context. So i think of them as bankers ceo's. They are not, but its the context. I speak to them. I can barely make out the faces, becasue of the energy. There is small talk that is barely contained, polite. I look at them, they are asking me a bit about what i do. I remember my current job (union organizer) they nod politely with humor that maybe isnt good-natured? or is that a creep of darkness in me, shadow because of perceived difference...my feeling out of place? 


- I ask them if they are "bankers" and one of them looks at the female i can make out more, with blond wavy hair. They say no, she would be 2 bankers at least and chuckle. I don't get it exactly but i do. they pull out wands to show cars. They flash like they are on an automatic wheel. Not cars like autos, more like vessels for the soul but with fancy brands. The swirling of so many is almost dizying. they start calling me Sen...Sen Sen Sen over and over....your car. In the center. Its a beat-up Honda with rust. I feel mockery or ashamed. And see levels of things. H for hell. A hell. Honda. Help...so many. I feel mocked? upset. I react but its not what i expect.

- Like a transparent overlay is pulled, now i see all sorts of normal, and even poor people, sick, etc, but wearing the color of the union i work for. Saying something. Lots of realizations at once. Sen...was a mockery of senator. But who is more likely to be one, or even president etc. A banker, or a person who can lead and empower others to do things. Flashes of nagual/sorcerer etc along the similar lines. Was an "oh...i had forgotten....or that's a clever delivery moment". Well nice, I'm going to wake and write this, when was the last time i really did that? 


- I forgot how difficult it can be to move between levels to wake. I woke into a  body in a tube-like chamber room, with a spinning part with a blue LED light. It looked like the inside of a gaming computer was one wall. Neat. But a pod. But not yet real. even though it seems like a complete reality. Im remembering trying to envision the real world as we see it. Creeping along the edges for a proper door...i found it, it opened to nothing. Darkness. I went into the nothing. At ALL. 

- It was scary to be in it fully aware/awake. I spoke out loud, to nothing, into the dark "I am in the dark, i fear it" But in it, i AM in it, so i WILL win it. (over it/own it etc the multiple meanings are funny to me in the moment). I laugh and sing it. And soon i hear another vice, reminds me of my nephew, hearing it and repeating it and it links and boom, im awake in my room. Need to write, i get up look for paper etc without fully waking. Write notes. Lay down. Only been asleep 1 1/2 hours. Back to sleep energized but not wide awake. 


Without notes, i recalled another section of dreaming that continued on. 

- So yes, I am Andrew, and my current job is what i do now. the first time a dream really acknowledged "what i do now". I dismissed dreams trying to merge now and past jobs old fears etc. No now not old stuff. I step into a challenge. People are speaking, what IS IT a person at my job does that makes them good at it. They inspire. They know how to set things up so people find their passion, and then take action, who otherwise maybe without the assistance would be powerless. Helpers who arent at the center of the stage, they allow and create a space for others to find that. But are well known in their own community. (the links to sorcerers/spirits were strong here) Its what i am, and do. It matches. And im one of the great ones at it. Well, ok, people will never know that, put some do. Not in life, or dreams, or at my real job, but in a way, it still applies. Too bad i can't just show it from the dream in real life right? i laugh at myself. 


I take it with me to the real world, where I'm still kinda sick atm. 
My outlook today was shifted and it was a relief in a way. less defensive slightly. And when i was, i caught it and explored it, like in dreams. 
That was good.