2016-06-27 12:01 am
An orange cat walks past a TIGER several times and the tiger ignores him. I wonder why the tiger ignores me also. Someone says "Watch this." On the last time past the tiger, the tiger calmly walks up to the cat. The cat freezes, with sure knowledge that its life is over, and just waits to be eaten. The tiger carefully puts the cat's whole head in its mouth, clamps its mouth shut on the cat's head, and waits for the cat to die. [Tiger is my power animal from a shamanic practice I had many years ago. Same as my higher self.]
KK is watching something similar on TV at Breeze's house and I tell her, "Watch this." I stand next to Breeze and wait for him to pass me the pipe. I recall he has recently railed against people not bringing their own. I go back to KK, who has her own joint, and I resolve not to beg for Breeze to share.
[Tiger is my power animal since shamanic journey period in the early 1990s, so this is a dream cue. Seems to be about merging with my various dream bodies, in my opinion. But then most dreams seem to be about this]
[The dream that woke me up is forgotten in the time it took to put T.'s blanket on him, get out of bed, and get a drink of water.]
[Starting session 9 with Mike's binaural beats version 1. I will repeat the word "dream" as a mantra whenever I am awake. Slightly hungry and it's too hot, but no trouble sleeping.]
[Going back to bed, will again repeat the mantra "dream" while going back to sleep.]
[I'm getting rushes of strong tingles up and down my spine, but it's not the Vibes. This is due to excitement because I just had my first phase experience since March 10, ending a long dry spell of 3-1/2 months that was partly brought on by a physical assault in a public place on April 26. This experience, the physical pain associated with it, and emotions it stamped into me which were hard to control, interrupted my momentum in what had been a steady devoted practice, but I managed to gradually hobble something back together.]
[The dream grew out of a vague introductory episode in which I am] choosing amongst a variety of young women [Cwahacoy].
The one who appears now is maybe called Susan [but the name doesn't come up again.] This is the University environment [and my age--60--also doesn't come up, but] there's a subtle undercurrent of my being older.
She appears layered in clothes--coat, scarf, dark green tights, lots of clothes. Plush. She's small and cute. Auburn hair and a few light freckles. [Looks like the actress RW.] I'm in a holding area like a school cafeteria with the feeling of throngs of people, but when she appears in the crowd and our eyes meet, nothing else exists. The sight of her rivets my Attention [and the result is a long detailed dream.]
She asks me to take her bag--a small suitcase--to her apartment, and I slavishly agree. I would jump at the chance to do anything she asked. Yet I sense something wild and unpredictable in her, I just don't know what it is... yet.
The inside walls of the building are old painted concrete, like my elementary school. The walls are very light whitish yellow and there's something beat-up looking about them. I turn right and I'm faced with an escalator made of old yellowish beat-up concrete steps. I think this is the STRANGEST thing I've ever seen, I just stand there and stare speechless at the concrete steps moving up to the next floor. A middle-aged woman with the look of a schoolteacher--tall with dark brown hair in a permanent--comes DOWN the escalator [even though it's an UP escalator] to help me. She explains that you use it the same as a normal escalator, so don't worry about what it's made of.
So I get on it and my knees are kinda shaky, then finally toward the top, I realize what's really wrong with it: there are NO HANDRAILS. This will never do, I get very wobbly and I'm sure I'm gonna fall off, so I jump off TO THE LEFT. Stairs happen to be there, which I climb three at a time till I'm at the top [the Urumara].
Finding myself at her apartment, I can't help but notice the address on the mailbox outside is "#3333 Connections" which is a big thrill, since I consider the number three to be all about connections [and thinking about philosophies held in waking consciousness means the dream is pre-lucid]. According to information I read on the mailboxes out front, the manager's apartment number is #576 and I MAKE A MENTAL NOTE to see if there are any vacancies. I go in a front door, across a bright, empty front room. This is a very clean but old big house made into apartments. The floor is dark brown wood, walls are ivory colored, there's a wooden stairway on the back wall and the doorway into her apartment is on the ground floor under the stairway.
In the apartment, her roommate is gone, but her roommate's boyfriend is there. He's tall with longish blond hair and dressed like a Californian in some sort of fluffy new age garb. He's quiet and macho and getting ready to go out. He calls out from the other room that he isn't in the mood to talk. "That's cool," I reply, wondering if I sounded cool and casually self-confident when I said it. This is the last I see of him. I'm alone now. Unlike the stark, empty, bright, wooden entryway inside the building's front door, the apartment is plush, somewhat dark, soft, big, and cluttered. It's not really dark, but the light is muted and the windows are covered with heavy drapes.
The apartment is neither clean nor dirty; just cluttered, very full feeling. The feeling is of heaviness, softness, muted thud vs. sharp echo. Like herself, her apartment is draped and clothed everywhere. Everything seems old, antique, musty. There is a mysterious sensation of reality being abnormally real, as if the walls and floor are alive with the character of the place. Amongst the clutter, I find a place to plop the suitcase down. The sense of a Christmas tree never taken down kinda getting in my face and making it hard to see as I open the suitcase and start going through her things with INTENSE CURIOSITY. Opening the suitcase under the Christmas tree, with great excitement.
I wonder why I'm going through her things since we've just met and snooping wasn't part of the assignment, so I start taking everything out of the suitcase, putting it in neat piles on surrounding soft chairs, to make it look like I thought that this was what I was supposed to do; this will give me an excuse for seeing everything in her suitcase. Her clothes are neatly folded and are compressed into tight creases as if they'd been folded for decades and will now have permanent lines in them where they'd been folded.
In amongst the clothes is a folded newspaper section, and when turned up the right way, an article is visible which chills my blood. It's about her, and something horrible that was done to her as a child. I read it in furtive glances, but never quite get the whole gist of the story, just the horror it conveys. I feel I am prying, seeing something I wasn't supposed to see, and now I'm in the quandary of where to put the secret news article since I've obviously unpacked her whole suitcase without permission. I decide to place the newspaper on top of a stack of clothes and just act innocent like I hadn't seen it at all.
And then who should appear but herself! I am so happy to see her perfect face. She's tired and I can see she's containing a feeling of crankiness on my account, as well as mutely surprised to find me lingering in her apartment.
This was preceded by an attempt on my part to leave the place. I recall walking out through the empty front room and looking back in to memorize all the details as I leave, so I can find my way back. [This thought apparently put me back inside.]
Then I'm in there in this darkish, cluttered, soft plush old ancient scary place, worried that maybe I've gone over the line by still being there, but I am vastly reassured when she assumes an overtly provocative position and says, "I need to ask you a favor." I am instantly ready to comply. I can't help but notice her butt bones have worn through the skin in two round raw patches about the size of dimes. This gives me a sense that she is unclean or something, but I try to maintain my manly member in a usable condition, despite the growing fear that all is not well, as I do what I was asked to do. It's not easy to focus properly because I start thinking about the ominous news article and her secret past, her hidden wounds.
Then she turns around and my blood freezes. She is something else, something that might have been human at one time, but has been distorted and maimed and turned into a monster, or it could be a ghost possessing her. The thing is white, rubbery, hairless, and bigger than me. I am absolutely scared out of my mind. I'm sitting on a couch or chair and the thing is right in my face, writhing in my lap, coming after me, and very strong. The eyes hold no intelligence, just the passion to eat human energy. The mouth is a shapeless slit, the nose just two holes. The head is a foot tall and flexible like a mask made of white rubber. It takes all my strength to keep it away from my face. I am horrified that my cute little friend is filled with this monster, something she can't control, it must be hell to be her. I wish there was some way I could help her to be rid of this demon...
And it's her again. I am so relieved.
We get out of there quick and now she's dressed in white and multi-color pastel spandex gym clothes. She's showing me her work, a research project in a small, PURE WHITE gymnasium laboratory. It's bright. She looks even more like the actress RW now, exactly like her. I'm so happy to see her back to herself and she's enjoying in her super serious way showing me what she's interested in.
She has INVENTED a high bar where you do PULL-UPS, and there are two metal cuffs attached to the top of the bar which are strain gauges. You put your hands in them and as you pull yourself up, it measures the effort that you're putting into it. She explains this in exact words [which I forget except the word "effort"]. [Note: as a child I was afraid of all social contact, especially team sports, but I could do ten or more pullups and I could climb the rope to the ceiling effortlessly, which was five times more than the athletes--who were always making fun of me--could do. I was as mystified by this as they were. As I type this, I think it's a message like: "Find the OBE technique that is easiest for you, so that the smallest effort produces results. Never mind what other people are good at."]
So she's demonstrating this device, pulling her body up and down, and I'm watching her with great zeal, eating up the sight of her, when suddenly [we merge...] Everything goes dark and I'm going up, up, up, straight up very fast! I am totally lucid, I know I am having an out-of-body experience, I'm phasing and my dry spell is over! I am shooting up faster and faster, vibrating more and more till my cheeks are shaking, literally flapping in the wind. I see nothing but black and white static like a TV set between stations, but they appear as long white streaks since I'm moving up past them. I keep saying to myself how extremely real and physical this experience is. I carefully monitor the increase in intensity of the vibrations, making a mental note to remember and appreciate that I have once again experienced truly intense vibrations [which I have only experienced once before, many years ago].
This is so exciting I forget all about my plan of action, and then I wake up back in her apartment again, fully aware that I had just had an OBE, [but not aware that I am dreaming. This is a false awakening.]
I wake up lying on her floor, but it's not the same place visually. It's a much smaller and brighter place, like her kitchen or sewing room. It has sunlight coming in and is not cluttered with overstuffed antiques and heavy fabrics. Tile floor, nothing soft here, all hard edges. This whole room is in shades of light PINK. I am fiddling with a PINK plastic CAT and then I stand up and see a real cat--strangely coarse hair, black and white--then I WONDER if the plastic cat somehow turned into a real cat, and I look back and see next to the ironing board, the plastic cat is still there. SHE shows up [as SC; I don't see her], again surprised to find me there, I start to tell her about my OBE [and wake up. Consider trying to go back in but I'm not wearing my dark mask and I don't want to forget any details of the long dream, so I go over it all and get up to write it down].
[I had established pink as a dream cue for months and recently decided to change it to blue because I got tired of seeing so much pink every time I went to town. Had some interesting instances of pink in dreams and obviously still am, but so far it has not triggered lucidity.]
[Just remembered a NLOBE but can't place when it happened. Very recently. At the time I felt it was the most intense hypnagogic twitch ever. I think it was both of my legs or both of my arms, can't recall, so possibly it was while listening to beats. This must happen all the time but not remembered.]
2016-06-28 6:00 pm
[Something kept bugging me and I had to look up the actress RW on wikipedia. I'm a numerology nut and up till now, I've ever been able to find but one celebrity (Tammy Wynette) who had the same numbers as me: 371. Well you guessed it: Laura Jeanne Reese Witherspoon (birth name) is a 371. And an Aries like me. So... another ESP dream. I am fairly ecstatic. Not that I take movie star crushes seriously, but I did fall in love with this actress on first sight, many years ago. Her energy is really something, to me personally. We vibe together somehow.]
[More to the point, I have found (without ever expecting to find it) that developing the ability to be aware during sleep is a matter of merging with a dream body or bodies. My last OBE before this one, I thought I was awake in bed when someone else started to roll out of my body! This seemed wrong at first, but I quickly got with the program, merged with the rolling entity, and left my body consciously. Additionally, the many non-lucid OBEs I've had in the past few months tend to be about me and a dream body batting awareness back and forth between us. Dual consciousness, etc.]
[This 371 thing is highly motivating, and the ?unaccidental choice of RW as Cwahacoy shouldn't surprise me but it's not like I've ever dreamed about her before. The point though is that, whether numerology is valid or not, we do have the same numbers and we're both Aries. So in terms of merging... get it? The number 371 is very rare amongst celebrities because we're so weird and intense that it's hard to become a public success. Tammy Wynette died young from prescription drug problems in spite of being a good and loving mother to her children.]
[I don't necessarily subscribe to the new age notion of "my female side". Rather, I consider Cwahacoy to represent the body of sixness. For example, 3ness is solidity and 4ness is time, etc. 6ness is appreciation, gratitude, passion, group activities, sexual interest, enthusiasm, enjoyment, religious ecstasy, obsession, etc. My philosophy is that as individuals trying to learn sleep consciousness, we need to merge equally (in a balanced way) with several dream bodies which each embodies a separate basic element of awareness. Cwahacoy or sixness is just one of these dream bodies.]