Dreams

4.2.12

I had an interesting set of dreams on the morning of Feb. 12th.
First, I was living on a (volcanic?) rock off of the coast, with platforms that would get buried by the tides. In a second dream, I was at a shopping mall pier, and had the ability to shrink down to 3" so I could snag walkman headphones that had washed up on the rocks. In the third, I was in a modern alternate Redondo Beach, CA, US where there was much undeveloped coastal property. Clay tunnels parallelled the cliffs, some with erosion skylights. Most interesting were the natural summer ski trail ruts made possible by waxy white snowflake soapflake pollen from the trees above. On the steeper higher trails, hard waxy dime-sized saucer shaped green leaves provided the same frictionless trails. Potted cacti near the beach designated which trails were currently set aside for which direction of travel. Nature was conscious and cooperating with the spirit of man. I fell asleep on a terrace in one of the caves which had hiking/ski trails going through it. A search party had spent three hours searching for a missing wife, and a voice called to I, the dreamer, that I had forgotten my wife. We went to the one house on the property, which (in the dream), I had visited earlier at a party with my girlfriend Heathar. The house was crowded, and even escaping outside to the porch, I was wearing a mini-skirt, and my ass was pressed against the glass door. I caught up with a crowd hiking up a trail. It was a summer camp for the mentally retarded, and I was hanging out, somewhat telepathically, with Cheryl, a plump straw-blonde with heavy mascara. Soon it was just the two of us hiking a thin trail on the cliff face over the beach. She 'said' 'I don't belong here'. I inquired if it was because the trail was dangerous, and she said 'No, I'm Peter Pan' and leaped off the trail, floating in mid air, ready to grab any crag or trail handy. I immediately realised that I was the one in trouble unless I could learn some new faculties.
Oh, now I recall who Cheryl actually was in physical reality. She was a woman randomly driving a cab who picked me and my luggage up for free on a street corner after a vacation flight (where I was worried about my back relapsing if/while boarding a bus), then proceeded, unprompted, to lay down a lot of general wisdom that pertained specifically to the troubling situation I had just encountered on my vacation.

Such places do exist. Jenner was such a place, where mysterious huge cubes like serpentine jade would appear in the hills, and at the beach, a 10' striated wall of clay in four colors (brick, ash, jade, amber) oozed from the cliff, and appeared to explain similarly colored rocks in the waves shaped like sea-lions and such. See photos.

2.7.26

Vision - An angel faced lion riding on a white sphere - connections: Time and fusion; Lion of Judah, Asgard planetary rebirth, Sirius, Vishnu, Leonine race, Sekhmet, Leo full moon, Aker, Sef and Tuau, bast, Ra, Thoth

See: http://www.greatdreams.com/lion.htm

The Tower

1.9.11 - World Trade Centers and Pentagon devastated by hijacked jets.

After a few hours of prayer and study last night, as well as my first self-motivated transubstantiation ceremony, I had quite a night dreaming I was experiencing being Jesus slaughtered in battle (organs falling out) then resurrected after realizing "Lord, I really fucked up. I love these people, I gave then an innocent faith that exceeds my own, they are counting on me, and yet I made my self useless to them with my temperament." All I could do was look upon them and cry humbly that the lord forgive what I had done. My body was then reconstructed while in the arms of my loving followers looking up for advice from my dead body. I spent about an hour in tears when I woke up.
Then, expecting to spend the day in worship and understanding, turned on the radio to channel more understanding of the dream, to find that minutes earlier the World trade center and pentagon had been bombed. I'm going to be really busy in contemplation, channeling and prayer today.

1.7.30 - Deja-vu cloning transplants
It's rare I have nightmares but to many similar things piled up on me last night. I was some sort of Dr Moriarty who had developed transplanting our brains into the bodies of our offspring. I realized that all my neighbors had became vacuous stepford wives and that I'd seen it all before. That we'd gotten into a rut and had lived this many times over like an empty deja-vu. I was going to commit suicide but some lab coat henchman (from a policy I drafted centuries earlier) said "you know the drill by now", and strapped me to the table for my next transplanting.

97 (living at the shelter and going on psych meds) - Bio computer abductions
A similar nightmare some years had me investigating a new bio-computer company that sold advanced computing assistants to the wealthy. In the next scene
I was strapped in a hospital bed with tubes running all my body functions. There was a lovely elevated view of the surf for the doctors though. I was being trained / broken to be totally hopeless and subservient to the point of losing all personal interests. Apparently the brains of abducted geniuses were the core of their computing products.

1.3.6 Tara dream 'Mannequin' - I was in Tara's bathroom upstairs. She had me washing a mannequin of her while she talked to Becky(?). She was amused to spy on me massaging my crotch. She interviewed me for things like Jewelry making skills. Soon there was a party. My clothes were inside out. I introduced myself to one couple and left a good impression; It turned out to be her parents.

1.3.6+ Tara 'the Cindy Sherman Dream' - First we were flying over aqueducts & freeways (Which I later got too see on a real trip with her). We went out to Stockton or Sacramento or someplace to a high-end computer graphics shop. We were looking at Mac poster RIP's. I  think she was looking for endangered whale tail-bone oil printer lubricant. Tara appeared in a bedroom at the shop doing every sort of romantic fashion bunny look, and we had sex under the four poster bed. I tried to sketch in my journal but it was full. She said "Thor, were broke, it's not even what you want anyhow, so have some consideration." (After I woke up I wasn't sure whether she meant me, her, the skirt, or a blank journal.)

Dreams and nightmares from  childhood

Age 6 'The nothingness bridge'. It came in installments when I was six years old.

Scene 1: We started first grade. The teacher passed out m&m candies on our desks. A disease spread through the class in which we were becoming translucent.
Scene 2: We were at the edge of an abyss. A fog prevented us from seeing the other side (if there even was one). By now my fellow color-translucency students were becoming nearly transparent. An iron gate was visible in the fog which opened to a suspension swing bridge into the abyss. They lined up and slowly ran across the bridge. By the time they had made it halfway across thay had vanished entirely. I was last in line. As I driftily skipped into the midsts of heavy mists, my consciousness vanished.

Age 16 'Music of the spheres' -  I found an old leather bound book in a glass case on a step-ladder shelf (at a supermarket). The table of contents was curious in that the dot leaders going to the page numbers formed a codified graph of narrative spiritual energy flows made of periods, plus, and minus signs. Perhaps others. I discovered a month ago that one of the Rosicrucian founders wrote exactly in this language. Page 2 was blank facing page three, a vellum covered intaglio print of 15th century monks surrounding a shrouded 4 poster bed with a patient to whom they had performed a lobotomy to study the transmigration of the soul. Page 4 and most of page 5 contained sheet music. The notes became increasingly ornate. A pattern was established so 1/16 notes fractally evolved into sub melodies of 1/64 notes. The notes were filled not merely solid or empty, but with pie segments intermittantly filled. The note flags had zig-zags, french curves, and serifs Much additional notation covered rests and sustains. It embodied volume, sound textures, etc. The melody itself was like a tidal wave, rising and sinking with the crests forming their own tidal patterns that kept flowering and forming intermingling grüngestalts. The pattern was getting enormous, covering many many octaves, and increasingly bold, subtle, and minutely complex.
It was abruptly cut off, and a passage at the bottom of page 5 more or less read:
In this piece, a pattern has been established and clearly is meant to continue ad infinitum. However it has exceeded the range of our ability to record it, for our instruments to produce it, and for our human organs to perceive it. Clearly however, it does continue beyond the range of this realm. So it is with our own lives.

I was clearly born to be a mystic.
In other dreams i have complete interactive control. Some of them take place in mystical rennaissance realms. As I drift off to sleep recently, I've become aware that many places in my dream universes are persistent and connected; like after 40 years I'm finally starting to piece together the lay of the land. That's kind of exciting. It's like finding out that it's an actual place I've been visiting, not a bunch of scraps generated to suit the nights meditations.