This world is the world beyond perceived strangely.
--P. D. Ouspensky, Tertium Organum
2016-09-05 4:32 pm
[LS1] At mall, given noodles without rice. I go back to complain, but decide not to. The rice appears.
[LS2] A young woman with brown hair and an older woman [SC] say in unison, "Four Forty One!" telepathically.
[Just realized that Stumped-No-More with his glowing orangish skin, Tiger, and Whirly are all the same person. Why? The only bedtime story my mama ever told me in my whole life was "Little Black Sambo."]
[Hypnagogic twitch experienced as something landing hard in my solar plexus. That would be me--my solar plexus body in correspondence to that chakra. Each chakra corresponds to a body. The solar plexus is 4ness.]
2016-09-06 2:50 am
[I have slept lightly since going to bed with strange abstract dreams revolving around the dream journal I worked on all day. No way to describe these dreams.]
[Very phasey and strange gestation dreams continued in light sleep. Inner sounds louder than usual. Added note: I never use the word "gestation"; I barely know what it means. But it's really in my journal so I typed it. Stranger things have happened. --ed.]
A woman has borrowed my small foam and when I borrow it back, she tries to charge me 50 pesos for it. Jovie is with me [SC]. The place the woman is laying around in is covered by foam pads of all sizes and colors. Large rectangular room/apartment.
Smudgely visits me and we cuddle. She has beautiful thick hair and perfect skin. I'm happy she's still alive after all.
Packing stuff for a family that's gone. Hope I didn't throw away the wrong useless junk. Judy is there (my first wife).
[LS] LynLyn using a scooter, one foot on the road and one foot on the scooter, pink blouse, pink jacket thrown over her head, we see each other and both smile at the same time with eye contact.
[NLOBE] A man and a woman are showing me a tray with colors to select. When I tell this to my self later, the inner sounds instantly become audible.
[NLOBE] Someone (male) is making a call to Mr. Murray to enlist further assistance with something ongoing.
2016-09-07 5:15 am
[Slept hard for almost 11 hours.]
"The Creek Runs Close to the House" (Elwood's Introduction)
I've left my mean wife and married a beautiful young woman. What a horrible mistake. Our supposed lovemaking is on a stage with her parents and siblings watching. I keep trying to draw curtains around the stage, but the curtains don't meet in the middle, leaving us exposed. Her lifelong friends who've waited so long for her to find a man have even better seats--right in our bedroom. I should say her bedroom, because she obviously wants nothing to do with me, and gives me a tongue-lashing about my inadequate and aging sexual equipment. She manages to communicate clearly by her awful tone, without our having a common language, that she holds me in contempt and fully intends to make my life as miserable as possible, starting now. Her shrewish disappointment in me is the perspective of a young person who has not suffered long enough to know what's going on.
I so deeply and thoroughly rue the day I left my wife. That would be just today or yesterday, so I have no choice but to eat crow and return to my wife, hat in hand. I can't believe I would have left my little boy and my wife of 11 years for a young sex object whose parents are my own age.
In spite of my shame, I bundle up my Aikido uniform--my only remaining possession--and return home, which is just next door. I walk into an empty wooden house on a cold rainy day and toss the heavy, bundled, white uniform onto my wife's bed. It rolls a long way on the large bed due to its weight. The bed is in a proper bedroom, not up on a stage. In our 11 years of stormy marriage, we've already chased the curious onlookers away. All that preliminary confusion is behind us, and that dust has already settled.
I wish I hadn't taped the three dogs together into a single bundle before I left. I can see that as a bundle, they are easy to tip over.
I go out a side door directly from the bedroom onto a beautiful little wooden foot bridge and am overcome with a feeling of appreciation. I look at the clear water running under the bridge. I say to myself in surprise, "The creek runs close to the house!" The place of beauty is shaded by fragrant, delicate, lacey plants dripping with morning dew. The muted light of the forest makes me long for what I have.
[The three dogs taped together is Smudgely trying to get my attention. The final scene was almost lucid. The appearance of the incongruous dog transforms the nightmare into a beautiful dream about appreciation.]
[Going to bed early, studied the song "Ek Ong Kaar" for hours. It's actually the 38th (and final) "Pauri of Japji," which is the first entry in the voluminous 1400-page scripture of the Sikh religion, written by the founder of the religion.]
[Wondered again if Square Girl (see LS 2016-01-28) is Cwahacoy and the answer came "yes" in the form of suddenly remembering my first dream of Cwahacoy. I had this dream when I was camping with my family at about age 12. When I went to sleep in my sleeping bag, I hated all girls, as usual. When I woke up, I was stark raving madly in love with a Woman I had never met:]
I'm a young man with curly hair, getting married to the girl of my dreams. She's not much to look at, but she is my one and only, my goddess. She's standing at the front of the church waiting for me, and I'm late. I'm trying to wade through the people in the church to get to her. I've never been so excited and scared in my life. What if I can't get to her?
2016-09-08 5:30 am
[Had the following dream in a hurry after Jovie told me to wake up.]
About a block away, there's a couple old wooden shacks where people can sit inside and do anything they want. Since they are somewhat off limits, only the unlimited go there.
Before JunJun goes there, I want to check it out myself. When I arrive, I see the tiny wooden shack, the size of a child's clubhouse, is full of young men. I think back to the times in the past when this property was used by my friends and I when we needed to get away from the strictures of the structures.
I head back to get JunJun and I figure I'll take the direct route up the hill this time instead of the short, easy way. There is a slope covered with ancient steps as long as the slope itself, like one wall of a stepped pyramid. The steps are crumbling. They are very steep, but there are ropes or cables one can grab to pull oneself up the steps. The front corner of the steps have steps in them too, which makes them somewhat flaky for climbing, not to mention their ancient crumbling condition. But I don't want to be too careful, as it will take too long to climb. So I pull hard on the cable with my arms and run up the stairs as fast as I can, wondering how long I can keep up this pace.
Arriving home, I am making my way down the hill to the house when I see Jovie still trying to find crystals. I see that one big crystal face we've been digging around, about 9 inches long and 5 inches wide, and I go down and upoot it from the ground by hand, after saying, "You're still digging here?" and commenting that she seems to have gotten herself habituated to digging crystals. I show her that the rock in my hand has crystal faces all the way around. It is formed around mud, so it is clear and shiny on the outside layer, but inside is dark brown soil.
[MPE video: After gravity blanket unrolls onto body, you get to images. If you follow the images, you can have a lucid dream. If you ignore the images, you can have an OBE.]
2016-09-09 12:10 am
[About an hour ago, I woke up from a DREAM that I had attempted to remember to death without getting out of bed to write it down, but went to sleep trying, and could then remember only waking up just as I "turned into myself" but no details available on any of this. Then as I wrote, the whole dream--but out of time order--came back to me instantly when I wrote the word "dream"--the one in all capitals above. I have been using the word "dream" as a mantra for some time now, while meditating and while doing inductions in bed.]
Jovie [SC] and I are taking the kids for a walk down and back up a steep forest trail straight up and down a slope demarcated by a barbed-wire fence on the left going down, crossed by a dirt road at the bottom with the hillside continuing steeply down past that. When I get to the road ahead of the others, I look back up toward the others and out of the corner of my eye, I spot a big bear on the road to my right. I tell everybody to run home back up the hill. I'm afraid the bear will attack our small pets, which came along on the walk. Cyrus for one falls down running up the hill in a panic.
Upon arriving home at the top of the trail, I take inventory of the pets. I'm looking for a certain number of baby cats of various colors. In the form of a suddenly occurring pseudo-memory, I catch Jovie tying up two small ORANGE CATS in a dark room, and now some others are missing too. I follow her around demanding to know what she has done to the missing cats. What a horrible nightmare, my own wife is a cat torturer and kidnapper. "Where is the yellow cat! Where is the yellow cat!" I demand. She responds by silently entering a dark room, reaches in and produces... "A cat!" I cry out, but instead, she silently tosses a withered dead rat my way [which wakes me up.]
[Odd that I remembered only that the dream ended with me "turning into myself."]
[Added note: Interpretationwise, this could be my guide (Mouse) saying, "You wanna have bad dreams about enemies? OK, here's one. When you wanna stop dabbling in black smarm and get on with nice fun stuff, just let us know." --ed.]
SaySay (silent companion) silently comes to me and shows me her hand which has black marks on it from a magic marker. I ask if she wants me to remove the marks for her, and she nods yes. I go to the sink and Rose says to just look in the middle. There are tooth brushes around the edge, but they're for brushing teeth. I get the one in the middle because it's obviously for scrubbing things with. I consider asking SaySay whether she'd prefer me to peel her besmirched skin off with a knife, but I decide she would not find this cute or funny. [Added note: it seems that "soul retrieval" is not agreeing with me. --ed.]
4:50 - 5:20 pm
[Meditation. Just finished installing new floormat upstairs, a three-day job.]
[To bed, will try to go to sleep, slowly with gravity blanket and just leave into hypnagogic images. Whirly = the spiral tunnel.]
[Went back to bed, gravity blanket, pull-ups, manhole, climb up, Library, no visual, touching books, fell asleep.]
It's fiesta time and the property is crawling with people. As usual I am fairly uncomfortable with this. I'm walking the perimeter of the place--American style, large, flat, dry grassy field--at the back corner I encounter Sheila's family busy filling big rice sacks with my compost out of my compost hole. Sheila's mother gives me a dirty look as if daring me to give her trouble, and the others ignore me, hoping I will go away. (Sheila is not there.)
Then I get more upset when I see that in order to make it easier for them to carry their sacks off the property, they've destroyed an old concrete shack on the adjacent property that had been serving as a back fence. I demand in Visayan to know who did this, repeatedly, "Kinsay nagbuak sa akong..." I look and see that my new red bike is still safely locked to the chain suspended between two stakes, but the two stakes could easily be removed. I am ignored, so I head for the house to report the violations to Jovie and ask if anyone had her permission.
I'm making the rounds again, somewhat calmer. I arrive at the other back corner of the property and see it's a raised square of earth, a ten-foot square terrace, two feet taller than the field. I wonder why they didn't dig this down to level instead of making an ugly hole in the other corner. Then I see it's because there's a big telephone pole on the property not too far away, so now it makes sense.
I proceed to the next back corner, where the interlopers are busy working. I see that their attitude has certainly improved, as they are now installing a prefabricated length of chain link fencing along the back edge of the property, complete with big car gate. I open and close the gate to see that the installation is being done surprisingly well. But they are using their beat-up old machetes as stakes to anchor it to the ground. I decide to not complain about this, instead making a mental note to buy some real stakes and secure it better myself.
I see that the place where my shiny red bicycle is chained up is now 12 feet outside the property line. I plan to move it in and lock it to the chain link fence. I think the fence isn't tall enough to impede a thief, but I'm impressed with the effort being made to TREAT ME RIGHT so I tell myself it's good enough for now. I can tell by a plate attached to the fence that it's owned or bought or rented from someone named Kevin, whom I recognize is a relative.
I continue walking and pay close attention to the many people walking around in the yard. [This place is the big DOG park in Lake Oswego, and in this dream, people tend to perambulate the perimeter in the same way, but without the dogs. Smudgely again, trying to get my attention with dream cues.]
I notice especially two tall older men with straggly goatees who seem like some sort of old European wise men. Then I see with some excitement that my Aikido teacher John Smartt has appeared, beaming at me silently. I particularly notice his wispy short white hair and his glowing skin. [Later realized this is Stumped-No-More a.k.a. Whirly.] He's wearing tidy, light gray slacks and bright white turtleneck or new agey shirt like the first time I saw him. His companion, whose face I don't see, is wearing a two-tone brown suit. While we're talking, the companion silently runs back the way they had come. I excitedly tell Sensei Smartt that I DREAMED about him recently and add, "But I dream about you all the time." I tell him I am utterly happy to see him and thank him for putting in an appearance. I rave about how happy I am: "I am so happy... but I'm always angry also." My teacher nods in understanding, still smiling, and says, "I'm the same way." I feel very close to him and so grateful, and I say, "You're an Aries like me, aren't you," and he nods. I can't contain my affection for him, but I can't find the words to express it, so I give him a hug and squeeze him tight.
Looking at my teacher radiating light, I wonder why he keeps changing sizes. I really want to have a deep meaningful talk with him, but I can't think of what to say, so I say, "Well, you need to catch up with your friend, don't you. I'll let you go, I see you all the time." He nods, turns and trots away.
"Waking the Psychotic Monkey" ...false awakening...
I've gotten Mark and Mama back to their apartment and I want to leave, so she gives me her car keys and my wallet and I plan to go. I walk outside--night time and it has stopped raining, but the sidewalk's wet. But I realize once I'm all the way to the main sidewalk by the street that I forgot something. I throw half of my cigarette on the ground; it's hand rolled. Now why did I do that? I pick it up again and it's a little damp. I am not too happy about going back down the long, wet sidewalk from the street to the door for whatever it is that I forgot. I realize I've started for the right side of the tall apartment building when I should be heading for the left; they're separated by a narrow, muddy lawn, so I go back once again to the main sidewalk and then take the left sidewalk toward the building. I'm getting close to the front door, worrying about whether the outside door will be locked or not, when I realize I'm in my boxer shorts. I see two men coming and I'm grateful that they're boxer shorts instead of briefs; maybe nobody will notice.
I wake up groggily and my captor is also asleep. The motion of the train must have awoken me. I plan to escape and I'm glad the captor, that dark little man [Added note: this is the Dream Usher a.k.a. the Green Ripper. He tends to frighten me. He is always small and wiry. His job is to take me from one state to another by way of the Void. He scares me because he represents the Void, and one has to get over a hump of resistance--the fear of losing the mind--to enter the Void on purpose. --ed.] I should get the psychotic monkey to attack my captor, but where is the damn monkey? Oh yeah, in the little plastic PINK suitcase. I grab the pink suitcase from under the bed next to where I woke on the floor, and it briefly occurs to me that the fact that my captor is sleeping under the bed [hiding like a criminal] is not to his advantage as I unzip the suitcase a few inches, preparing to release the monkey of death. I wonder how I can make sure that the monkey attacks my captor instead of me. Now I am afraid to release the monkey. [I wake up in my real bed.]
2016-09-11 12:05 am
[Twice I experience the fear of going crazy when leaving the body and then in my sleep. I made plans to write it down, but couldn't decide how to phrase it.]
[From the time I went to sleep till about 6:00 a.m., I had non-stop rudimentary awareness and activity, none of which I can remember. As I see it, here is what happened. I had a dream. Voice of idiossification told me it was not worth remembering and I believed it. Voice of idiossification told me I could remember it easily later, because it was such a useless bit of nothing, and I believed it. So I got sleepier instead of more lucid and went into another dream which the voice of idiossification told me was even more inconsequential, so I didn't get up to write it down either. Voice of idiossification congratulated me on being so brilliant while I got even sleepier instead of more lucid. This kept happening. Solid dreamtime and not one experience to report because I did not get out of bed for a few seconds to jot something down. First rule of developing lucidity: always do it the hard way. The easy way is a lie. This is not to suggest that non-physical experience is hard to have. What is hard is learning to discern truth from lies when your conscious mind craves unconsciousness. Learn to think of this as mini-suicide. The voice of idiossification is the trickiest and deadliest influence there is.]
On a small card table, I have laid out and arranged the creations of my soul into separate piles depending on what part of my soul did the creating. My dad and I arrive home and he asks me who a certain person is....
[In the next dream I am Limberluck. Also note a new place for my dreamtime map: the Terminal. See dream journal 2016-07-14 1:00 am for another Big Dream about the Terminal.]
Some cheerleader types with perfect bodies dump me off at the Terminal. Everyone but me seems to be college-age adults. I can't believe the beautiful girls with long dark hair and short skirts just dumped us off and turned around and left. My companion (SC) informs me that they are prostitutes and they have important work to do elsewhere. I say they are in pretty good shape for prostitutes, and SC responds that he doesn't know what I mean by that. I say, "Where I come from, prostitutes look pretty beat-up and worn out."
We find our other companion, a young blond fella with a nice mammary gland growing between his shoulder blades, and enter the Loop, a small TUNNEL through which people perambulate. While SC and another guy walk arm-in-arm, the blond guy crawls on his belly between them and I dance in front of them. But as we approach the far end of the loop, I accidentally kick the blond guy in the face while dancing. He suffers in silence and I tell him to stop trying to eat my shoe.
The other loop is a U-shaped driveway for buses to enter the large garage-like pedestrian mall with the bus stop at the back of the U. I see the bus is leaving without me, and I try to run, but it's no use. I explain to SC that I will not shout for a bus to stop for me. I get distracted by something, only to find another bus leaving without me, and this time I get a little ticked-off about it, so I head up the stairs to look for something to eat.
I enter the Cafeteria clutching a short stack of coins between thumb and forefinger, and in no time I've consumed a large meal. Then I'm looking at some green jackets made of a slick material. The cafeteria name and the brand name on the jacket are the same: "The Smiling Leery" and the tag shows a smiling caricature of someone who I mistake for the comedian Jim Carrey [this is actually Hugh Leary, one of my dead friends. He is a dark and light influence, a contradiction, a highly energetic person who battled demons and died young. A huge influence on me at a young age. He appears often in my dreams as a slightly tallish, wildish fella with thick, wavy, sandy-colored hair. This person has also appeared many times in my real life as a variety of people with that kind of hair.]
Hugh Leary himself (cross between him and Jim Carrey) walks up to me and grabs a stray thread coming through the center of the length of a jacket's front zipper, and yanks it out, seeming to ruin the zipper's tailoring. I tell him he should show some respect for the products these people are trying to sell and he points out telepathically that he is in fact the owner of the place. He leers at me and demonstrates in a rigid upright stance reminiscent of Jeff that the zipper still works fine. He mangles more zippers and shows me that they still work fine (cues from Smudgely).
l'm hungry again and leave the small display of green jackets behind a free standing divider at one end of the cafeteria area, returning to the cafeteria proper. This is a U-shaped cafeteria line.
I see small chocolate sculptures of animals on shelves and criticize my host for not having smaller pieces of chocolate available for people like me who are not looking to totally gorge themselves. He apologizes profusely while wringing his long fingers pretentiously. I find him quite entertaining and decide it's OK if I eat a whole chocolate lizard or TURTLE, what the heck, the more the better, it's chocolate, right?
In a spirit of freedom and celebration (Limberluck), I look carefully at the food this time. Beautiful, juicy hamburgers are being grilled, and after that, huge double hot dogs with cheese sauce an inch deep between large sourdough buns. I order a hamburger and then change my order to a cheeseburger. I want a hot dog but then I see pizza by the slice, huge slices, also slathered deep in disgustingly delicious cheese sauce, but I then realize these are steaks being grilled under mushroom soup gravy.
[Woken up in vibes by Taran kicking me.]
3:41 - 4:00 am
[Meditation. LS on and off throughout, no attempt to keep track including visit from Hugh Leary.]
[In bed continuing to experiment with gravity blanket. I got a full body hypnagogic twitch, very strong, and another in my arm or something shortly after. Rolled over onto right side and recalled the time that Hugh Leary, myself, and two other people conducted a sit-in in the governor's office, State of Kansas Capital building, to personally deliver a letter protesting the treatment of mental patients at the state hospital. Then I started awake--Hey! I did that sit-in alone! Added note: since writing this, I have learned from a friend that Hugh Leary became a psychiatric nurse and worked in mental institutions after I lost track of him. The LS above was another flash of ESP. --ed.]
2016-09-13 5:30 am
[Awoken by my wife so I can get Taran out of bed in time for school. Went back to sleep and had this dream in a hurry. This dream is plagued by doubleness, maybe because the two characters each have a double or sidekick, or maybe because it was run through over and over. When I first woke up, it seemed like there were four characters, but now it seems like there were two.]
I am the good guy, as played by the very small comedic actor Peter Dinklage. The bad guy is a typical Italian mobster type, no visual (SC). I'm hiding in the back of an empty box truck like a U-Haul, but the door is open so the only reason the bad guy or his henchman can't find me is that I haven't farted yet. Which I am going to have to do in 3... 2... 1... FART.
I'm being carried by the bad guy who is larger than me. My feet extend straight in front of me, my body like an L. The bad guy has his arms wrapped around my chest, so my rigid legs extend directly in front of him.
I don't like the food my captor gives me, so I am released to order something better from the business front where we are biding our time as captor and captive. I go out front on the sidewalk on my own recognizance to the storefront which is just a window where you stand on the sidewalk and order your food. The storefront is stucco painted PINK and white. I am surprised happily to see that I will be stuck with eating pizza.
[Force myself to wake up, very vibey.]
[The name "Peter Dinklage" is still running through my head like a mantra that won't come unstuck.]
2016-09-14 1:00 am
Wondering why I left work when I still had work to do, I get back as quickly as I can, arriving back with a plan to hoard those "stone tiles" as I call them for purposes of my own, a purpose greater than toys, as the others consider them to be. I feel lucky that the others lost interest in them so quickly.
As church janitor--but this place looks like a modern home inside, but bigger--I have keys to the place, and enjoy being there alone when I get back. I pass through the big carpeted living room where someone has sprinkled corn meal all over the whole beige rug, to stash my stone tiles in a back bedroom. The tiles are 11 inches by 8 inches and I really like them. "Stone tiles," I say out loud in a loud voice. I hurry back to the living room to get the corn meal swept up, feeling lucky that no one has walked on it yet and ground it down into the rug.
My dustbuster is huge, but it works good. I enjoy my work with childish enthusiasm, vaguely worried that someone might hear me making "Vroom, Vroom" sounds to go along with the machine noise of the huge dustbuster that I drag back-and-forth along the length of the living room plush carpet. I remind myself that no one's here--I think--and then here comes Dick [of Dick and Shirley B., my parents' pastor and best friend when I was four years old, who I haven't seen since I was four years old. As a child I always wondered why his wife was named "Surely".] He comes out of a back office, the assistant pastor. In his booming voice he strides past me and out the door, "If you don't mind the signal... Great!" He's referring to the noise of the hand-held vacuum cleaner, which I don't mind at all. I wonder why he calls it a "SIGNAL."
[Back to bed. Will try the direct route to the Library. Was in vibes when I woke up. "Signal" is in reference to the sound current OM which is Ong in Ek Ong Kaar.]
Rich family's house, melodrama on TV. I ask the actor Tobey Maguire (SC) if he watched it. I go in a back bedroom and a cat is killing half-grown tuko lizards and leaving them lying around. I go into the dining room and there are two more dead lizards on the table. I tell SC we're having a lizard problem. Something touches my foot and I see two huge lizards over 2 feet long and four inches in diameter walking around by my feet. The lizards act like they own the place. "See, one touched my foot and I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE."
3:45 - 4:20 pm
[These words came to me--not hypnagogically, but unexpectedly, spontaneously, and with absolute unambiguousness--"Being the exact opposite of my parents, Hugh Leary was inevitable."]
[Taran wanted to use the computer, so I went out on the terrace to meditate. Was talking to someone (someone real who isn't actually here) in my mind. When I realized that doing this was accomplished by a tension/vibration connecting the 2nd and 3rd chakras (3ness and 4ness). Belly and solar plexus. Couldn't be more clear. Thus begins my learning of how the chakras (dream bodies) work through personal experience. I'm in a state of ecstasy with information feeding to me directly.]
[Not wanting to kill precious meditation time in front of a computer screen, I'm going to bed early. Will meditate, roll the gravity blanket onto my body, and exit via hypnagogic images.]
[About an hour or so ago, Smudgely scratched with her paw on the window right outside where I sleep. An unexpected surprise.]
2016-09-15 2:00 am
Hitchhiking in winter, road covered with packed snow and ice, in bare feet. But I don't care to get a ride, so "hitchhiking" is not the right word; anyway, there is no traffic this early in the morning. I'm aware of being in Glenwood Springs and I know my mama in Kansas misses me, but not much I can do about that.
I like the way the road is completely devoid of traffic. I am, indeed, king of the road. I see a road heading down a steep hill and let the weight of my body and the added gravity of my heavy duffle bag pull me in an effortless, unending skid on my bare feet.
Occasionally there is a bare patch of pavement, so when I get to one, I just pick up my feet and fly to the next sheet of ice on my own momentum. Nothing could be finer. The road gets steeper and steeper, and curves back on itself until I reach the flat bottom and boy am I flying now. In fact, I am sliding along so fast that the bottoms of my feet are getting heated up from all the sliding, but I know what to do about that, don't I?
I pick up my feet and fly, fly, fly in a straight line, borne along the flat road through the air with the greatest of ease on this fine, cold, overcast day in paradise.
[False awakening #1]
I wake up in a little cement bathroom along the side of the icy road, nestled in my sleeping bag. I am so warm and cozy, I want to sleep forever, but sooner or later, someone is gonna wanna get in here, so I better get a move on before that happens. I hurry out of the sleeping bag and stuff it into my duffle bag, then start stuffing all my junk in on top of it. Whoa! I brought all this stuff?! Finding more and more stuff to cram into the duffle bag, even a heavy satchel full of papers. That's about enough, don't you think, who wants to carry all this weight around?
I head out into the cold, pre-dawn winter wonderland of Lower Glenwood, and damned if there isn't a Greyhound Bus driving by and it's turning into... the Terminal! Heck, I forgot there was a terminal way down here! I run to catch up, this is gonna save me a whole lotta walking between here and Kansas, I might even get home to my Mama today.
I turn into the parking lot where the bus is already exiting again, that's OK, the driver will sell me a ticket, I got some coin on me. I holler at the bus driver, but he hollers back that I have to catch the bus at 3 in the afternoon. [That's what time I meditate.] That doesn't send me, I holler at him again and he hollers back that I have to take the bus tomorrow. That doesn't send me, I holler at him again and this time he hears me right and opens up the door. Turns out he's not going my way, but I ask him to haul me up the hill to town for free since my duffle bag is heavy and it's uphill all the way. He is conducive to that and I clamber on board and go back to sleep.
[False awakening #2]
I wake up in Skipper's house, still in Lower Glenwood, but Skipper's not there right now. He doesn't know I'm there, either, but he won't mind. I wander from room to room taking in the scenery. It's a funky apartment, scraps of carpet employed in odd ways, beat-up and casual, but clean and decent. A real sweet place for an old hippie to lollygag in.
I walk through the bathroom and notice the shower's been left on. It's just a stream of water coming out of a pipe in the middle of the ceiling, no shower head, no shower stall, no off faucet either, I guess, since it's just running free. I test the water with my hand, nice and warm, that feels good on a winter morning. I wonder what's it cost him to leave hot water running all day, oh well, he can afford it. Or, what the heck, maybe someone's here? Oh, look in the next room, it's his granny! She sure is skinny. And beautiful white hair. Hey Granny, put your clothes on, you got company!
"Oh, you must be one of Skipper's friends," she chirps, "How nice!"
I'm walking back up the hill toward Glenwood proper. If I'm lucky I might get home to Mama tonight. Keep the light on, Mama, I have a long way to walk!
[That bright white hair and the sudden change of plot: "Granny"--of whom I got only a quick glance and the rest was telepathy--is the Dream Usher showing me to the Void (white) where dreams go to die.]
[We are not made of meat. We are made of seven spinning circles of light, the seven overtones of awareness. Yesterday I experienced (simply noticed) that the act of talking to someone in your head who is not there--and maybe the internal dialog in general--is a tension or vibration of energy bouncing between 3ness and 4ness. The internal dialog doesn't take place in the head, but in the 2nd/3rd chakra interplay. The chakras are thus:
Chakras... Overtones... Harmonics...1st chakra = 1st overtone = 2ness or 2nd harmonic of awareness2nd chakra = 2nd overtone = 3ness or 3rd harmonic of awareness3rd chakra = 3rd overtone = 4ness or 4th harmonic of awareness4th chakra = 4th overtone = 5ness or 5th harmonic of awareness5th chakra = 5th overtone = 6ness or 6th harmonic of awareness6th chakra = 6th overtone = 7ness or 7th harmonic of awareness7th chakra = 7th overtone = 8ness or 8th harmonic of awarenessThe fundamental is 1ness, the first harmonic, which is not an overtone because it is not created by a lower harmonic or more basic element; there is no lower (more basic/elemental) harmonic than oneness. 9ness encompasses and synergizes all seven of the overtones to constitute a single balanced entity of awareness which can return to oneness, go anywhere with total awareness and freedom.]
[Jovie woke me up out of the extreme hypnagogia where I'm able to create visions with a thought. So I thought of the Library and a large book instantly appeared. Since my wife was late I decided to stop there.]
[The dream she had interrupted took place] in the Freedom House. The walls are lined with devices such as one room and hallway with dental machinery, all BLUE. [I don't remember the dream very well, but] I feel lucky to be in this house [a house is a state of mind] and I'm hoping they'll let me stay a long time. The Professor is distracted by something, but it doesn't appear to be my fault or my problem. He goes off some place and his receptionist says that in a different place and time I would have been her boyfriend. She gets upset and rushes off to the ladies' room. She's dressed in dark red, the color of blood, and seems to have a curvature of the spine or hip deformation. The professor's wife is kinda odd or spacey. At one point, I have gone somewhere and I'm coming back. I appear at the living room door, which is an outside door leading into the living room directly from a covered wide corridor between the various parts of the large, sprawling, single-story house. I walk in and say hi with a smile, I am happy to be there and expect to be welcomed. Breeze is there in a recliner, the lady of the house is there and the Professor is there but unseen (SC). Breeze is in a serious mood. He tells me to write the missus a check for my phone calls which I can't do, but I give her a 100 peso advance. Then Breeze launches into a warning that here at this house "there is one dangerous door." I imagine and reconstruct the memory of one young wild woman whose door you don't want to knock on unexpectedly, but Breeze interrupts me to say--while touching my lower lip with his rough forefinger--that "you never want to show up at my door with a gun." [Jovie wakes me up. I am in vibrations and able to see visions with my eyes closed.]
[Finally realized that the Breath of Flight and the Spinal Pranayama Breathing are the same thing. The vibrations are caused by spreading the energy bottled up in the lower chakras into all the chakras evenly. This is what happens when we "relax" so we can "leave our body" or "go to sleep" as we often call it. The physical manifestations such as motion of the diaphragm are not primarily physical. I just did three spinal pranayama breaths while walking around and had to sit down. After months of not being able to do anything with breathwalking it only took three breaths to make me sit down. It is not about breathing fast, it is about putting the breath all up and down the spine, i.e. spreading the lower energy centers' bottled-up energy to all the chakras which is a simple matter of imagining it while you breathe.]
[It's very rare for me to remember a dream after only two hours of sleep.]
[I just had another personal communication from Kris, and it's a big deal. Before I start, I have to describe one of the most interesting premonitional experiences I've had, which was in Kris' company. In another series of incredible coincidences that I won't discuss here, Kris and I ended up owning a historical rose quartz gemstone mine together. We found it after a four-day search and took many long journeys there after that. Kris' ashes were scattered at this mine by his older brother. Long after Kris had his fill of rose quartz, the mine was taken away from me and a different mining partner by President Bill Clinton when he made it a part of a new National Park.]
[One afternoon I was driving us to the mine on a winding mountain road when I received a telepathic communication to stomp on the brakes because there would be a cow in the road around the next bend. I told Kris I was going to stomp on the brakes because there was a cow in the road around the next bend, so I stomped on the brakes and when we went around the bend, a cow was standing motionless in the road looking at us. The cow would have died and we would have had a 300-mile walk home with a bunch of camping and mining equipment. Who told me to slow down? I don't know, maybe the cow. I got excited about having had a premonitional experience of extreme accuracy, but Kris was absolutely silent. He didn't say one word, didn't look at me, didn't smile or frown or anything. I could never figure out his total absence of reaction to what had been a nearly catastrophic auto vs. cow collision. As if he didn't even experience it.]
"Time Signatures from Pluto"
I have come into possession of a marvelous personal communication from Kris Skidmore, and after all that has happened, I do not doubt that it is in fact from him, even though he is dead. It is a lengthy sound recording supposedly containing snippets of his voice, but it isn't until I actually listen to it that I realize just how marvelous this gift is. I listen to every word of the recording and it starts as a mundane outtake from an afterlife recording session, but after listening for a long time to musicians bantering back-and-forth in preparation to record a song, I hear Kris' voice and I am suitably amazed. No way this is faked. It is not possible to fake Kris' voice. What's more, when the band finally started playing music, Kris did the singing himself, and besides that, it is obvious that the song was custom-written for me. It is Kris' best singing, he has this gravelly, gruff, kinda loud way of singing that is driven by a speaking voice that always pushed out of his chest by a drive to treat everyone in a friendly way that came across as loud, grinning, boyish enthusiasm. The song is beautiful and fits his unusual voice perfectly. As I listen to it, I am washed through and through by feelings of gratitude. I keep thinking to myself, Wow, this is real! This is really real! Kris makes a comment about this communication coming from Pluto, but I know better, and I am extremely grateful for this communication from the supposedly dead.
[PLUTO was Smudgely's contribution and I didn't get it, but I almost got it: "this is real, this is real". Pluto was Mickey Mouse's dog. Kris' father was a professional artist who worked for Walt Disney in the old days, designing the full body suits worn by people playing Mickey, Minnie, Pluto etc. at Disneyland. Kris was the dog lover who ended my temporary dislike of dogs before I got Max I.]
2016-09-16 12:20 am
[Blown away by the earlier dream, I was not really sure I could get back to sleep, but was lying on my right side trying to relax when I started seeing] brilliant BLUE hypnagogic patterns which quickly turn into a chain link fence. A man's face comes up to the fence and I get the impression of a prison camp, because the expression on his face is serious and pensive. The face is very detailed and close-up, but not much light and he's wearing a hat. I get the impression of a movie actor, but decide I have no idea who it is. The face comes up again, same hat, but the face is seen from a different angle. Once again it's seen close-up, etched in fine detail, and once again I do not recognize the man, but get the same impression of "movie actor". Still not very interested, it's just hypnagogic images, right? But a third time the face comes from still another angle and I instantly recognize it as Robin Williams, the comedian and actor who committed suicide about a year ago due to an incurable illness that would make it impossible for him to work. I think, "It's Robin Williams!"
[Then immediately I went into a dream--really an OBE, because it's a full-blown self-generated scene.] I'm in the Thrift Furniture Store and a young blonde woman in a tan stocking cap and tan nylon winter jacket with fat braces on her teeth is smiling and pointing out something in the store. She says something about "those extra long panels of high tech glass" [and I wake up. Added note: actually I went into the Void where we go to end every dream. Big panels of black, white or shiny in a dream often represent the Void symbolically. --ed.]
[The new shower heater stopped heating water two days ago, which is a big problem, since it cured a fungal itch that I've had for about 25 years, which can only be relieved by a spray of hot water, because it cancels the itch for many hours, and if I never scratch it, it stops itching completely and the problem no longer exists. This morning, based on last night's dream--about opening two doors in a hot room to allow a draft straight through the room--inspired me to run straight downstairs and try the shower while the pump was cool. No change, but then I thought about how the shower head is like a closed or partially closed door, so I opened it up all the way by removing the shower head, and the heat came on instantly. Then I remembered getting this EXACT instruction from a dream yesterday, where Skipper's shower was running hot water continuously through a headless shower. This tells me the heater works electrically and I have FLOW SHORTAGE as I suspected. There's a lot more to this morning's dream, which I have to try and remember, but I thought that part of yesterday's dream should be pulled out special since it was of direct significance to a pressing current problem, and the suggestion made in the dream did in fact solve the problem.]
The place is the Highway 20 house, but big scale. My place is very big with glass walls--like a small WalMart instead of the former gift shop I lived in on Highway 20 in 1988 or 1989.
The main character looks exactly like Curly Howard of the Three Stooges [which I don't notice during the dream.] He comes in at the same time as an entourage of officials and he strides in importantly, but I decide he's not with the others for some reason. He has a New York City accent, so I ask him where he's from, even though he's too serious and looks grouchy. He slurs a word I take to be "Connecticut" because to me all east coast accents are kind of similar. There is also a resident family vacationing here with me being the caretaker living in the store next to the main house [as I did on Highway 20 when Marcia gave me a place to live and an air car workshop.] Both house and former gift shop are big and open inside. The important officials [my seven dream bodies: SC+] who arrived in a big car end up sitting at a big table right next to the card table where Curly and I are having an intimate talk with me asking the questions, he providing information a few words at a time. He is friendly, but serious. At first I'd mistaken him for the deadbeat roommate I had for a few days in Lake Oswego, but he is not like that at all and I am really starting to like him. I suggest we move our little conversation to the other end of the large glassed-in empty store and Curly comes up with the idea of opening doors in each side of the store because the glass walls turn the place into a GREENhouse that collects heat. Now a welcome breeze blows straight through the place, and it's the right temperature.
[Last night when I went outside to meditate, I couldn't stay awake and I also couldn't stop thinking about the shower, which I found annoying, but totally obstinate. No matter how hard I tried, the worry of getting the shower to work kept re-establishing itself in my mind as the only way to stay awake. The cool breeze across the hot glassed-in building due to a vent in both ends is exactly what's going on. Yesterday while looking at the shower's installation manual, the large section on testing and troubleshooting that I thought I remembered from a few days ago did not actually exist. But the statement that "the shower head is a vent" jumped out at me, while nothing else of use could be found. Now that I've proven it's a lack of flow issue--which turns the heating element off to keep it from burning out--I know what sorts of things to try, and in the meantime I can use the shower hose without the head. Thanks Robin and Whirly/Curly from the bottom of my bottom-most itch for a dreamy solution to a ruthlessly real problem.]
[Based on today's email from Ek Ong Kaar Kaur, a Sikh teacher who does translating of the ancient texts, the symbol Ek Ong Kaar refers to Oneness (Ek) using a Sound Current (Ong) to create Form or Reality (Kaar). I just realized that Ek Ong Kaar is the inner sounds, which of course we can't hear till we silence the mind, unless we have tinnitus.]
[I am going to change my gravity blanket into an Omnidirectional Stress Evaporator, with the assumption that my body of nineness is a blimp and the stress that holds my body in physical reality through my chakras can be evaporated so it is no longer a solid or a liquid, but a vapor which expands equally in all directions till it fills the blimp with light fuel a.k.a. lightness fuel. Then I can fly. That is my new plan.]
[To bed. Omnidirectional Stress Evaporator. Recall that I recently realized that the crusty old fart in a Pendleton jacket who sits in the Star Room and lectures on this stuff all the time is real. Well I just realized that the students in the room are also me. The teacher is W. H. Early and the students are the members of the soul retinue, including the one who sleeps through all these things, that would be my conscious mind.]
2016-09-18 2:50 am
A cat is standing up manipulating something PINK with its paws, but falls backward onto the ground.
[Meditation. Became aware that it is physically painful to exist when very sleepy, so stayed out longer. Finally had a LS with words: "Picture these kids..." and I did.]
2016-09-19 2:00 am
"Opportunity Say: Please Stop Knocking"
Between me and the street where I walk is a glass door [the Void], and behind the glass door is a long, straight corridor [the Tunnel]. There are two of me: the me out in the street and the me inside the pizza restaurant. I've seen the Pizza Rush where I used to work, and stopped in the street to ask myself why I have no work and no money when I could be working in a place like that.
Suddenly I feel bold, and I'm down that corridor in no time in the presence of the me that saw me standing outside staring in. After trading awareness back and forth I stabilize as the me who came in from the cold, and the other me is my ex-boss, red-haired Rick from Pizza Rush.
He greets me and we don't speak of the way we parted. I confess loudly that I miss working for him and hope he will hire me back. This is an emotional experience for me, I'm going out on a limb. I get the general impression that the feeling is mutual and I leave feeling optimistic.
So I go to the Student Union on the next day and I'm back to Pizza Rush, ready to work. But Rick isn't there and my ex-co-worker is. He sadly informs me that Rick hired someone else an hour after my leaving yesterday. We go out into the Union building (Lawrence, Kansas) and down into a large room full of ping-pong tables, about eight of them. No one else is around, it's the wee hours. I am sad and alone and now I'm back out in the hall looking for a place to pee. I go through a door and the familiar looking man--Mr. Rhubottom [our piano tuning instructor who Hugh Leary held so much in contempt]--informs me that when the door is closed, the facilities are off limits. The mens' room door inside this room is padlocked, so I keep trying out in the corridor. Inside a much larger room is another men's room, also closed. Another doorway seems more promising at first, but when I go through a door inside this room, it leads in a circle back to the previous locked door.
[I woke up a little sad but the feeling quickly snowballed. The big room full of unused ping-pong tables represents fears generated by current correspondence... I do not feel that the recent plunge into making friends online has done me any good... My progress in this work was better without trying to climb the OBE clique status ladder online.]
I'm let into a bright living room through the front door by a tall, blonde, very pregnant young woman. Her belly is exposed as if to keep it cool.
I say something like "I eat babies" and then wonder why I said it. I try to take it back, but under the circumstances that might be hard to do.
[In the past hour I realized that as I move into a less 3D world, it will not only feel like I am going crazy, but also the people around me will seem to behave more and more erratically, like robots with corrupt programming. If I try to resist this by pointing out their odd behavior or trying to change it, then the world will go back to being more solid. The reason that other people act strangely when my reality changes is that my reality is changing. It is an inherent part of losing the human form that my world will experience fewer points of intersection with other peoples' worlds. When I notice people acting as if I am not there, it's because they are not here. They are doing their best for automatic images generated by the conscious mind I am trying to slim down to the point where 3D reality is used as a tool and a toy but not as a syringe. Added Note: And this process continues until Donald Trump is elected Leader of the Free World... --ed.]
[Have I finally learned the meaning of the word "Ilavaet"? I believe this is the name of my conscious mind when stripped of the karmic encumbrances that are inherent in the names and nicknames given to me by my parents, self, and friends. I have had many names and still do. This one is unique because it refers to the conscious mind in its slimmed-down version, the form in which it does not interfere with my freedom. The form in which it actually becomes indispensable to my freedom. The word is pronounced ee-lah-VAH-et or ee-lah-VAH-yet, either way. I used it as a mantra so long, a walking-around, all-purpose mantra to try and slim down the internal dialog throughout the day, that it still pops up in my mind, repeating itself to itself, 35 years later. I have searched the internet, google, google translate, etc. and it doesn't appear to be a word in any language, nor is there an anagram for it if you rearrange the letters. Here's its source; my first real vision, in a physical exercise I invented on the spot, not suspecting it was going to work:]
California, Santa Cruz County, Freedom Boulevard, Rivendell Community, Freedom House, Eagle's Nest. I have just read The Magic of Findhorn by Paul Hawken, and all of Lobsang Rampa's books. Both authors encourage me to use my imagination and stop obsessing over how an event qualifies to become a member of a reality. I still have no idea how to have an out-of-body experience, and I am tired of being frustrated about it, so I take matters into my own hands. I am going to force myself out of the body and I think I know how. I go out onto the flat garage roof that's accessible from the side door of the Eagles' Nest, an upstairs loft apartment where Breeze and I live with his herbs and potions. This is long before Breeze got a truck and proved to be a workaholic; the other Rivvies called him "Yogi Shea" at the time. It is, however, sometime after he's informed me that I need to "get into my body." But he's not here and will not disturb me; I am completely alone and I know that no one is watching me, so I am going to do this if it kills me, and maybe it will.
I lay out some sort of ceremonial space, light some incense, sit down on the cool asphalt-shingled roof on a cool, overcast coastal day, and start trying to hyperventilate like we used to do after school for fun, back in Greg Mick's basement. [You know, Greg Mick? the one who got his whole family thrown out of the Philippines for winning a fight? The one who I could put into a deep hypnotic trance by counting to 20?]
I am very determined to pass out. I breathe harder and faster than I want to, then I hold my breath longer than I want to. I try a variety of combinations of this routine, increasing the strenuousness of my efforts to pass out, eyes closed the whole time, willing myself out of my body with every bit of intent I can muster.
I notice buzzing sensations and I figure, well I will either leave my body now or die; either way, I get out.
Suddenly a pair of long, withered hands appears, bearing a huge, ancient book. It is obviously a book of mystical secrets of deepest importance. I am enthralled, afraid to move lest I disturb the vision, and I somehow know that I must maintain a state of detached curiosity or it will stop. As I use my supremely focused intent to instantly master this detached state of curiosity, the hands and the book come into sharp focus and the scene animates, taking on a life of its own, in totally realistic, 3D technicolor.
This is my first hypnagogic vision, and I never even knew that such a thing existed before.
The hands open the book, and I start reading. It is a hand-scribed manuscript of ancient secrets. The words are real, they make sense, and I understand them. They are relevant and perfect and wonderful. I notice that my memory of each phrase disappears as soon as the next phrase comes into focus, but I know somehow that I must not fight this, because if I lose the state of detached curiosity, I will lose the vision.
As the focus continues to increase in clarity, a phrase about 2/3 of the way down the page on the left side of the open book jumps out in dark, bold script. I read it with utter fascination, knowing I will remember this phrase the rest of my life, but ironically, it is the only phrase on the page whose meaning is not clear to me. When I have memorized the phrase, the vision fades and my ceremony is complete, successful beyond anything I might have imagined. I am not the slightest bit disappointed, in spite of the fact that I did not "leave my body", and not knowing or suspecting that, in fact, I did.
The phrase: Freedom, oh freedom... Ilavaët...
[LS] "The portion of the General Rule comprising those who enjoy physical time-space..."
[Telepathic message from a guide... TMFG?] "Its purpose is no longer known, but you still want to preserve the ruins of the form, because there's something beautiful about it." [Regarding two Ilavaet dreams. The meaning of these two dreams from long ago was just revealed to me. I have always associated them with Ilavaet as a place of grandiose, ancient, majestic ruins holding a secret too great to hold in the mind.]
[The two dreams about a place I long ago decided to call Ilavaet: since I know now what Ilavaet means, I can say what the ruins represent. The ruins in my dreams are the grandiose presumptions of individuality. Which lie in ruins in an abstract future, because in order to change my current conscious mind into someone called "Ilavaet," a lot of stuff that now has a function has to become stuff that used to have a function. The place Ilavaet--like all dream places--represents a state of mind. The uselessness of its structures is matched only by the grandeur of the feeling of the dream which actually way outstrips said uselessness.]
[This all came to me in a ROTE that quickly unwrapped itself as these words: "Its purpose is no longer known, but you still want to preserve the ruins of the form, because there's something beautiful about it." This is in reference to the identity (overindulgence of emotions + attachments + values) I came to this life to express, only to find that something indescribably better than identity is available to me if I should care to sacrific the identity to achieve it. That achievement is fulfilling my destiny in this lifetime, before I die. If I want to fulfill my destiny, then the superficial, seductive trappings of identity have to be traded in. Along with the energy that has to be overcome in order to do this--the energy holding the identity in place--this is a big price to pay, truly grandiose in scope. The beauty of the ruins is a monument to this sacrifice, literally tied up in the fact that the emotions, attachments, and values of my conscious mind or identity can become ruins for a truly awe-inspiring and transcendant cause. Assuming that I succeed in achieving the miruvorning vroombelleration, Ilavaet is my future identity, the stripped-down version of conscious mind that will take me where I want to go. It will be won at a great price, a truly grandiose sacrifice.]
[The dreams themselves, from the 1970s I think. I don't know which one came first or how close together they were, but I think they were when I lived in Sioux City and was spending all my spare time with Hugh Leary.]
1) I've managed to climb hundreds of feet above the surface of the Ruins by shimmying up an arched stonework that ends in the middle of the air. I am hanging onto a gargoyle at the end of an arched stone tower literally hundreds of feet above the ground, simultaneously in awe of this place's grand beauty and unable to move for being nearly paralyzed with terror.
2) In the Ruins which sprawl as far as the eye can see, I wander aimlessly in awe of the structures I am passing on my left and right and all around, up and down the steep little hills and other convolutions everywhere I look, clutters of convolutions. Not knowing what the purpose of this place was or who used it or when, makes it just that much more interesting, astoundingly so. On my right is a building with big rectangular holes where windows must have been. It's an off-white stucco building. I look inside and a young woman, plain of face, who radiates pure beauty and agelessness, has some photo albums to show me. She is in a wheelchair. The feeling of the place is somehow embodied in this goddess woman and her mysterious photos. There is nothing else to denote humanity except the woman's photos.
[Both these dreams took place on dream terrain with many convoluted hills. It just occurred to me that the place, already identified as a place, a state of mind, the vestiges of a once-cluttered conscious mind complete with emotions, attachments, and values... is my brain. The filter that receives the sound current of infinity and pumps out a person.]
2016-09-20 3:05 am
I'm riding with my dad (SC) and we pass a huge abandoned factory. He stops there and we go inside. I have never seen so many broken windows in my life. Inside the stuff doesn't look that old, so I'm worried when he starts rounding stuff up to take home, throwing open big garage doors, and generally acting like he owns the place. He is running, which makes it seem like he's afraid of getting caught. He hands me a heavy battery to take with us. It's in a red plastic case about seven inches by six inches by three inches tall.
The owner's son shows up. He's Latin American, a little smaller than me, wearing a light blue workshirt and jeans, no more than twenty years old. He's quiet and intelligent. He's not saying anything about our trespassing or stealing, but he's too quiet and that can't be good.
He waits till my dad has finished collecting stuff, and then informs us that we are thieves and tells us to check our wallets. He has taken our wallets. I find mine in the wrong pocket with all the money gone. I am angry because this looting wasn't my idea. I kick the young man in the chest and I'm surprised I am able to connect with some force, so I kick him again, harder.
[I woke up afraid I had kicked Taran in my sleep, but I ascertained that I have not. Went back to sleep till alarm. (Added note: Learned later that Jovie had noticed me having a "bad dream" and woke me up herself. Scolded her and told her--again--never to wake me up from any dream. Probably won't work, she is superstitious about nightmares while I happen to think they are important. Not that this was a nightmare, far from it. It was almost lucid, that is why the body was trying to act it out. --ed.]
[LS] World map. "Life experience."
[Every time I closed my eyes and said my mantra "dream," my body would start rocking backward and forward about once per second. Back into sleep, forward into wake. That close to sleep, there's no telling which body it actually was.]
[After putting Taran to sleep, I let my mind drift for awhile with various nothing fantasies, then decided I should focus so I might do what I do best, which is tiny visions. I lay on my back and immediately felt the Omnidirectional Stress Evaporator switch on and my awareness jumped up about an inch from the physical. This was--subtle?--no, it was real. Noticing it is what's subtle. Once you notice these things, what's amazing is that you never noticed them before. And therein lies the simple hidden trick that dissolves the crux of what makes our out-of-body struggle seem difficult. To stop struggling, stop forcing, stop with the machinations and manipulations and tweakings of the belief system in hopes of magical, mystical reunions with "subtle" realities that supposedly underlie "this" reality. Stop all that! And learn how to pay attention to what's already there, how things already work. Stop trying to make the world be magical and see the magic already, see it working, and let it show you its long-established ways. Before I knew it, I was clicking into the physical, with the usual voice of idiossification whispering sweet nothings: "Never mind. Forget about it. Sleep would be so soothing right now. What a boring little dream..."]
[Little dream! What just happened? Four people. The two in the middle are women. The shortest one is holding an apple or something in her hands. The other two might be men. (It was clear at the time but as soon as you switch out of that state, the memory fades quickly.) Whatever is happening, I'm totally aware of it. It is perfectly mundane. Then of course the realization that this is an NLOBE snaps me back to physical and my thighs both twitch strongly to the right at the same time. Back to bed for another shot at it; that was fun. I miss my little sleeps and the many awakening, they are so crucial for building up to the next phase experience.]
[The main reason we "can't" get OBE is that we have done it thousands of times a year ever since we were born and a part of us--the voice of idiossification--is bored with it and telling us to never mind, just go to sleep. We must not attempt to learn how to "leave the body." This blocks awareness and makes us more blind than we already are. We must learn how to notice awareness tracking itself.]
I'm in the bathroom looking for the source of an odd sound. The shower stall is broken and the floor has been taken out, and this hole goes all the way to the sewer. It's full of leaves now, I suppose anything could be rustling those leaves. There it is again, I hope it's a snake, not just a boring frog. Help, help! It's a huge crocodile living in my bathroom!
Some of us are going to see the gemstone movie which is best viewed through an umbrella made of kevlar or something--mylar? Mr. Bean is one of us.
2016-09-21 3:30 am
[Back to sleep extra bed mask. Plan of action B is to attend a meeting in Star Room with Robin and Elwood and all the others. Plan A is to go to Library and find Bob Neal. Will lie down in Omnidirectional Stress Evaporator and go to Library.]
[This is a big deal. I stopped meditating to write it down. I'ts called "Separate Perspective Correction." It's about visualizing yourself doing something and how I automatically visualize watching myself do something instead of tactilizing my actual self doing it. Example from meditation: in spinal pranayama breathing I imagine a current of attention moving up and down the spine. It's really easy and boring to watch this from a separate perspective as if it was happening to someone else. It's more relevant, useful, and difficult to actually feel it happening in your own spine. To do this, don't watch it; that's visuliazation. Feel it. That's tactilization. This applies directly to learning OBE; watch for it.]
[When I lay down and put on my mask, I effortlessly "left my body" immediately, in seconds. We do not have to find out how to "leave the body." We have to learn how to pay attention. When I "came back to my body" a few seconds or minutes later, I noticed for the first time the loud music from the neighbors' house. I thought about my default plan of action--what should it be--and decided it should be something I'd succeeded at before. Decided it should be to ask my silent companion to take me to Stumped-No-More/Whirly. Plan A and Plan B are still the same. Plan A: Library, Bob Neal; Plan B: Soul Retinue Convention for official mutual recognition of all soul partners and guides. The default plan will not change and will always be there if I can't remember A or B.]
[Trying to vibrate people as vibration blue x3 I was either all 3 picture or helping. Ignore (the rest is illegible and I don't even remember this happening).]
Jovie (SC) and I are at Freedom House when her brother Toto drives by in his pickup truck and waves at us. This causes him to lose control of his vehicle. I say to Jovie, "Toto has lost control of his vehicle!" First he weaves over to the left shoulder of the road, hits some small trees, which causes the truck to roll over onto the road on its roof, but it keeps going and rights itself, and continues down the road, but in such an erratic way that it's obvious that Toto is still not in control.I wonder why I can still see him when he has traveled so far past the house. I have somehow risen up into the air, or my perspective/attention has. As I gain this knowledge/ability, Toto becomes someone else, which I don't notice.
I become physically present at the scene where the diabolical, crazed, evil madman has fortunately crashed his bright red convertible into the river and I hope he drowns. I look down into the river--the bottom of the arroyo--and the tall, blond man with longish thick hair is still moving, so somebody shoots him in the chest, but this doesn't keep him from clambering up and concealing himself among the throngs of people going about their business at the University.
Steve Foote (SC) is with me and I describe the evil man as tall, blond, with long hair, but I wonder if "long" is the right word. It is thick and not short, but not to his shoulders, not that kind of long. Foote and I are catching up with him. What he did to that little girl must not go unavenged, but as we catch up to him, I start to get squeamish about actually attacking him. I even start to wonder whether his crime has been too long ago... and what if I go to jab him with something and miss and my hand dashes itself into the concrete wall of the big sidewalk underpass we're passing through with all these students and I scrape my hand. I can't imagine myself attacking someone and getting away with it. My resolve to punish him dissolves.
[Trying to remember a dream I remembered ten seconds ago. I get hypnagogic words instead:] "While many people know where (X) is, the drive itself WON'T ANSWER." [X takes the place of what my dream notes refer to as [techie gibberish, name of a computer drive.] When I wrote "WON'T ANSWER", I instantly remembered the dream, which went like this:]
KK and I have returned to an apartment where we used to live, which was bought by the slumlord [Lindy] who added an unpainted concrete triplex in the back yard. The three apartments are very small, but the prior tenant added a deck as a second floor over all three single-story apartments. The tenant is the middle-aged single fella [who rented from Dan and Lindy and was always starting fights with them and with his best friend--only friend?--who lived next door to him, walking around with a cane he didn't need, and generally paranoid, always obsessed with something or another.] He had already moved out and left a mess upstairs on the deck. The poorly made deck was meant for a ping-pong table which he left up there and is now broken. We are there not to live, but we just happen to be there. KK is SC. [Before that, Taran is SC, but SC changes to anyone he/she wants in the course of a dream. When I wrote the last comment I remembered another dream].
In the downstairs I see a nightlight like the one I have, a similar device which is supposed to hold a one days' supply of shampoo, and an old-fashioned night light that uses a xmas tree bulb. I plan to steal them. I tell Taran to go back and get them, then I panic, realizing I should not let Taran out of my sight and go look for him.
I go upstairs to the deck and there is a broken ping-pong table and the strong homemade support structure that had been made for it to set on, which is in pieces, but basically intact, should it need to be used again. All in a pile in the rain, and I consider stealing all for my own upstairs deck. I notice the floor of the deck is soft, wet, thin masonite, and fear I will fall through it. I start to sink. I sink through the rotten floor up to my waist, and calmly call KK for help in Visayan, "Tabang!" KK doesn't speak Visayan and ignores me, but two Filipinos working in the yard next door [Nitpicker and Potwatcher] hear me and come running. They push me up from below till I can clamber up to the deck.
[Recall the ping-pong table with Leslie Nielsen and his WHITE HAIR as well as the two workers (Potwatcher and Nitpicker) and then Joe C... just before an OBE on March 10, just a few hours before I had a conscious OBE. This ping-pong symbol is Big.]
[Good session. Was just getting to a state where I could see close, finely detailed images without trying hard, when I was assaulted by a dive bombing insect which slammed me in an arm, then a leg, then another arm, etc. with such precision that I had to believe it had a purpose in mind. I shouted, "Go away, you dive-bombing motherfokker!" and it went away and didn't come back, but the state was ruined by my shouting. Hard to believe this wasn't some sort of sleep paralysis Intruder vision, I'll never know since I was wearing a mask. I've never been attacked by an insect so purposefully without being stung, and without my having disturbed the insect first. What's more, I did get to what seemed like 3D blackness and I was thinking, Why do people want to make this so difficult and technical? The divebomber hit me just as I was heading into a strong hypnagogic vision, a perfect grid of tiny little squares in rows and columns, hard-edged and easy to see because I was in an important state that I needed to remember, thanks mister bug and I'm sorry I called you names. If not for the bug I would have gone to sleep instead of remembering the best part of the session.]
[While reading BM I realized that the miruvorning vroombelleration is the unraveling of illusions two through eight, rejoining them as a whole which becomes a vehicle and riding it back to oneness with all this wisdom and stuff. (See later dream in which Amelia gave me a dose of Miruvor, the Elvish nectar in Tolkien's mythorama.)]
[Was delving into tan-colored, pattern-textured, vinyl-tiled floors hypnagogically when Ernest T. my cat as a child said Hi.]
At a gas station when my companion (SC) suddenly darts away without saying a word. I see that a gas leak has developed and in seconds a huge pool of gasoline has spread across the sand. Sure enough, there is a plume of smoke starting over in one corner of the puddle so I run, trying to decide whether it's acceptable to step in the gas. [I wake up.]
[Related to the next dream in which Amelia gives me a charging liquid at a convenience store; gas stations tend to be at convenience stores these days also.]
2016-09-23 2:40 am
[In order to preserve maximum possible detail, I recorded this dream as it came to me, which was essentially with the scenes in backwards order. This has never occurred to me before. It worked pretty well, so I left it in that order for the sake of historical accuracy since this is a journal, not a finished product. I will put a ** between each scene, but remember the scenes are recorded in reverse time order of how they occurred in the dream.]
Reggie: "If I eat my (sea green [mint?]) ice cream cone and then eat the chocolate chips out of it separately, I won't make you late will I, because I eat my choco..." [Alarm wakes me up for meditation. This is huge... see the final scene of the next day's lucid dream, not to mention the dreams on either side of this one.]
Reggie runs across the intersection to get to the Convenience Store; I follow.
Reggie takes a right and stops his sports car immediately to take a left across a wide, oddly-shaped intersection. The right lane, our lane, is only one lane, but he has to cross several lanes of the oncoming lane to get across. When we see an opening, he dashes across without the car and I follow, also on foot.
I say I enjoyed my week of swimming and he says, "Did you?" as if literally not sure I did. I take the question literally because the last two days I didn't enjoy as much.
We turn left down a hill, road covered with loose, deep gravel. Reggie says, "There you go," when he sees a lot of new yellow school buses in front of a school. The buses are pointed up hill with more coming. I think it must be the first day of school.
I stand in front of a classroom at the bottom of a wide staircase like what you see in front of a stage. The class wall is all glass like a store front. The school is like a mall with all the rooms facing a wide walking corridor. I stand there wondering if I should barge in or wait till he sees me. It's almost break between classes anyway.
I have the job of delivering messages to teachers.
I figure my hard-on will be noticed, but I guess people will just take it in stride and they don't really have any choice.
[Above is in backwards scene order; start here and read the sections backwards to get the whole picture.]
"We've had awareness beyond the usual hive mind. I like that." [These hypnagogic phrases are not random words!]
As Limberluck, I arrive by foot at a Convenience Store on a hill. When I go inside, the lights are out and no one's around. "Hello?" No answer. I go to the back, knowing that the clerk is taking a break, but should be responsive as I see the back door is slightly ajar and just inside the back door is a restroom's closed door, so she could be either place. I call out unselfconsciously, "Hello? Hellohellohello..."
A young woman with dark brown hair in a shag [Amelia; same look and feel as when she revived Limberluck and then took him across the street to a Convenience Store to find sustenance! See dream journal of Aug. 12] pokes her head out of the restrom but says nothing, and I say, "Just checking. I'm not in a hurry." So she closes the restroom door again. I notice she has placed her water canteen on the rug outside the bathroom door and I RECALL SEEING THIS CANTEEN SOMEWHERE ELSE.
[I wake up freezing because I had put too much liniment on my itchy arms and I'm sleeping in front of a big open window. Recall also that just before my first OBE this year I dreamed of Convenience Stores on three of four corners of an intersection. The fourth intersection was my "old apartment" now belonging to a new tenant "Stephen" who is very calm and who I am very happy to meet. This was Stumped-No-More! See Feb. 27; there's no end to the coincidental/recurrent themes. The old apartment is the bookmarked state-of-mind recently mentioned in a personal communication from VS. She told me when you get into a state you would want to return to, bookmark it so you can find it again. This is what I've been doing a lot of lately in regards to building up to my next OBE. This is in large part what this whole OBE quest has been about, since it started out as an attempt to rebuild a state-of-mind that led to a spontaneous OBE 35 years ago. Regarding going back to the old apartment, keep reading.]
[Just realized while hanging up the clothes that the girl in the Convenience Store was definitely Amelia, I was definitely Limberluck, and the canteen of water was nourishment she was providing. Why else would anyone enter a convenience store?]
[Forgot to mention that I had an awakening this morning where I felt vibey and remembered to remain still and cycle through techniques. Keep it up and remember the default plan if I forget Plan A and Plan B is to ask SC to take me to Stumped-No-More.]
2016-09-24 2:55-3:25 am
[Slept lightly through the last hour before the alarm went off to meditate, because I was trying to wake up and remember a dream. Last conscious thought: "I'll try to remember the details for just a second before I get up to write it down." By now all is lost.]
[LS] The word A-C-T-I-O-N is spelled out. [I was inspired to do many pull-ups into the Library. I was not impressed with the vividness of the visualization but I just kept at it, including touching the books, running my hands along the shelves, and hearing the resonant hollow sounds when my fingers stroke the hardened spines of the old books. I didn't find this too exciting, but I kept it up and it kept me awake. Meditation was not sleepy for a change. Before I stopped meditating, I spent some time at the end of the session doing nothing, i.e. deep meditation proper, stopping all internal dialog.]
[To bed extra bed mask. Will focus on Library, the smell of old books, rubbing my hands together, doing pullups in through the floor of the Library, seeing books. Books, books, books. Rub hands.]
[Our dogs, when I was married to KK, were actually Lila and Max I. I now have Lila II and Max II. Taran and/or Jovie had never met the originals but wanted to name our current dogs after them. Max II is a tough-as-nails, highly aggressive and playful puppy. He has been sick and seems to have become afraid of his slightly older but much larger young aunt who he used to WRESTLE WITH, roughly and obsessively, until she would have to literally sit on top of him and pin him down on the ground to make him stop. Three days ago he lost interest in Lila and won't play with her any more, so I've been worried about him.]
I've recently split up with KK. She kept Lila I and I kept Max II and MOVED BACK TO AN APARTMENT I had rented once before. [Recall that an apartment or house is a state of mind. In the dream,] I'm MEDITATING and sitting in a big chair having a fairly LUCID DREAM about watching a movie. But I'm in the movie [which is like a cult classic I used to like called A Boy and His Dog, which is about a post-armageddon world where people live in tents, similar to the movie MAD MAX. OK, can we stop with the coincidences already??? Just kidding, it's obvious at this point that Something Big is ramping up. But as I type this dream which took place only a few hours ago, I am amazed at how little of this "boring dream" I would have remembered if I hadn't forced myself out of bed to write it down immediately.]
People are basically living outside; everyone is equally homeless. I'm aware of holding all this together with my mind. The movie is actually inside the tent, and a blanket hangs to cover the doorway of the tent, so how could I see the movie inside the tent anyway? And my chair is facing back to the hanging blanket anyway, with these realizations I mentally stop the movie and see that other people are sitting around the big makeshift plywood table where I sit on my big chair, back to the tent. I rouse myself from my meditation in the apartment where I live with Max after watching vivid HYPNAGOGIC IMAGES. I see I haven't been doing anything but meditating. I carry a pile of dirty clothes from the EXTRA BED [like my OBE bed] in the front room in case anybody comes to visit.
I remember my puppy, poor unfed creature running around like a ghost looking for something to eat, can't get outside to pee with me glued to my chair. He runs by and I kiss him on the top of his head, telling myself I'll get used to kissing dogs like when I had Max I. I wonder if I have a record from last time I lived in this place, as to where I should mail the rent check.
I force myself into the kitchen to serve up some dog food for Max. I have to wash a spoon to get this done. What a drudgery this life is. I do some mental magic by fast-forwarding the Time Tape, which I see as a vivid vertical slit of film shots clicking by at a high speed, as the images fast-forward to a time when taking care of the dog doesn't seem like drudgery anymore. The fact that I can do this so easily makes me CHUCKLE.
[I wake up. Awesome dream, Back to sleep. Will try the floating trick (OmniStressEvap):
1. Pretend the brain is a muscle and relax it.2. Progressive relaxation, like "gravity blanket" or "heavy lead blanket feeling" except instead of transforming physical and mental stress into a heavy feeling, use that same energy to quickly boil the physical off and turn it into a vapor that surrounds the perceived position of the body like a bubble. The energy that normally activates the physical is now evaporated and floating around the astral channels of the physical body, which is all that's left of the physical body.3. The edge of my body touching the bed is actually the edge of an energy in the shape of the physical body that is radiating from the sound current that creates my reality. These subtle energy conduits that run through the body obviously aren't lying on the mattress, they are floating a couple inches off the mattress, suspended within a kind of intense radiation that I used to mistake for muscle and bone tissue and stuff. As soon as I feel this floating sensation as real, I generally am milliseconds from being "asleep", but:4. Intend to stay conscious mentally at this point.]
[This was a 99% lucid dream.]
[I told myself, "I have time for four OBES before the alarm clock goes off in ten minutes to wake up Jovie."]
[Added note, later in the day as I type this: I stayed in bed when Taran got up to get ready for the trip to Tagum for the Saturday morning basketball practice in the town where the tournament will take place. I felt a little guilty for not going with them, but I refuse to leave the house with less than two dollars in my pocket and my bank's debit system has been broken so ATM machines don't know me this week. I knew that feeling guilty would get me nowhere, so I turned off the Random Guilt Dispenser and went back to sleep. Speaking of which, normally I would be extremely tense with no cash and no way to get any, but at this point I have decided that nothing is worth worrying about if worrying is going to stand between me and my next phase experience.]
[I am vibrating from head to toe. I just had by far the longest lucid dream of my life.]
(Special Thanks to Amelia)
In a featureless, plotless dreamscape in tones of light brown, gray, and beige tones variegated like a mist, I realize I am out of my body. I shout, "I am having a lucid dream!" and I shoot up into the sky at a great speed. I scream in ecstasy over and over, then an alarm shoots into my mind telepathically and I remember to calm down so I don't lose my focus.
I fly through the wall into my OLD APARTMENT [same place as the previous dream]. It has beige carpets and off-white walls. I'm headed straight for my old bricks-and-boards BOOKSHELF only four feet in front of me. There seem to be too many gaps as if books are missing. I keep on flying straight through the bookshelf and straight through the scene, commenting to myself telepathically--not in any certain words--in a jolly mood, "Hey, looks like the lucid dream fairies took all my comic books!" [I don't own any comic books.]
I'm in the Bookstore floating near the ceiling and since this is just a dream, I feel like doing something totally destructive, because I can, and there will be no consequences. I call down to the woman sitting at the desk below me telepathically, "Hey lucid dream Bookstore lady, look what I can do!" I gather all my flying power and dash through the air toward a BLACK METAL bookshelf from the back, crashing into and through the top shelf and all the BOOKS.
I'm in a place where people walk around and stand around with their families, like an indoor mall. I'm standing on a bench, so I feel taller than the large black man next to me. I'm aware he has a small boy and I place my hand on the big man's big shoulder. His shoulder feels deeply familiar but I'm not sure why. He's wearing a lime green T-shirt the same color as my new tank top. Forcefully, I telepathically tell him he should be nicer to his little boy and he steps away a little without looking at me, responding telepathically that I have the wrong guy. I picture the right guy in my mind, a somewhat smaller black man with salt-and-pepper kinky-curly hair slicked down in shiny waves. I decide to spread my gospel of "Be nicer to your son" to the right guy this time, so I shoot up into the sky to go find him. I realize I don't know who he is or where he is, then realize I can just follow his ident. I know he lives in or near a paint store.
Fying down toward a City sidewalk in an older part of town, heading for a sign indicating a paint shop where I sense he lives, I overshoot the paint shop a little.
When I land, I realize I have to pee, and I think, Just like in Robert Monroe's books, called back by nature.
A relatively small white man, well-dressed, with BROWN KINKY-CURLY HAIR, takes me into a parking lot in the back. He says telepathically that I am finished with this dream and I have to go back to my body. I telepathically challenge his authority to make this decision for me as he directs me to a large white vehicle. There are several other large white vehicles that look like fire trucks; this one looks like a stretch limo and/or a hearse. I don't like the looks of it and I give him the telepathic equivalent of "Who are you, the astral police?" He replies with the telepathic equivalent of, "You haven't had a close encounter with a loaded gun yet, have you?" I start to counter that I have recently been shot in the hand as I resign myself to getting stuffed into the hearse/limo with the others. But while I'm trying to remember when it was exactly that I got shot in the hand with a gun, he leaves. I forget about the gun and I see the hearse/limo is gone, so I can continue with my lucid dream.
Yippee! I leap into the sky and fly into the heavy gray and brown cloud cover. I'm eating a big chocolate mint patty and enjoying it very much when I [wake up].
[Thanks to Amelia and Smudgely and whoever else helped out, this dream was literally delicious. Since it ended with me eating a chocolate mint, I'd say the message is about a certain flavor to generate in one's life and practice. This Flavor of Mind is what induces the ability and freedom to fly. I am still vibey, chills up and down spine, and while I was writing this we had a huge earthquake! The walls were going back and forth and it must have lasted a full two minutes. I turned off the power and gas and went outside and it was still going on. The only possession I thought about taking with me was my dream journal!]
[This is a Big Omen, because I was born on the 50th anniversary of the San Francisco earthquake and had earthquake dreams throughout my childhood since before I knew what an earthquake was, continuing through my early 20s.]
[Everybody's different, so everybody's path to OBE is different. Some take a religious or spiritual path and some are squeamish of religion so try to see it as a more practical tool or just plain for fun only. I had to take the path of passionate confidence and enjoyment. I had tried religion and spirituality in the past, and what I have discovered for myself is not incompatible with these. But I'm not drawn to religion, I don't feel it's right for me to "worship God." However I did--in order to become an OBE'r--have to find what religious people have found. This was an enticement to stop slamming religion, for one thing.]
[Now that I have a whole cast and crew I call my "soul retinue," I could be held in contempt by the same cynics who refer to God and Jesus and Allah and all the Hindu and Buddhist deities as "imaginary playmates." Well, thanks to my playmates, I now understand the utter seriousness of the role played by the imagination in building an escape route from a physical world that I have always considered to be a prison. As serious as that sounds, I see now that while seriousness = solidity, enjoyment = religious appreciation. These equivalences sound like smeary generalizations, but let me assure you, thay are alternate formats for simple abstract tools that can be named many things, the 3rd and 6th harmonics of awareness.]
[I am no longer squeamish about anyone's religion, God or passion. Thanks to my imaginary playmates, I now have the life I have always wanted.]