All in an Afternoon Nap

On a bus in a strange land without clue as to where I’m going, I get off for a moment just to get my bearings. A little girl in a wheelchair, who is also a passenger, has fallen and is trapped under the chair. The bus is getting ready to leave. I yell for the bus driver to stop, but either he doesn’t hear me or just doesn’t stop for anyone. I lift the wheelchair and make sure the girl is OK and then I am back on the bus which actually did turn around and go back for the girl, but by the time it arrived at where she was, she was no longer there. Perhaps she had moved on, either way, she was gone.

The last stop of the bus is approaching and I know it’s almost time for me to get off. I look out the windows to see where I am. The city looks a little bit too much like something out of Disney production, something about the colors and the cleanliness just doesn’t seem right. As the passengers are getting off and I am preparing to walk down the stairs, I see a white leather jacket with the pattern of a big American flag draped on the stairs, obviously placed there for someone to slip on and fall. So I’m careful to step over it and watch my surroundings for enemies. The man behind me looks like he was just punched in the nose, so I step aside and let him go ahead. Not that I recall hitting him, but something tells me I probably did and thus it is better not have him walking behind me.

At the front of the bus are three men who appear to have found some kind of liquor in the cabinet and have decided to stay on. I may as well stay for a while longer, too, as I still don’t know where I am or where I’m going. As the bus begins to morve, it occurs to me that I ought to just find a place on the beach and stay there for a while. What country is this, I ask the men with whom I am now drinking some weird tasting liquor from a little squeeze bottle. One of them who reminds me of the Actor called Rock, looks over with a smile and yells, Brokie. What country is this, I ask again. Brokie! He yells back.

Just another typical afternoon nap, part of the process I go through of never completely resting I guess in my seemingly never ending quest to understand my reality at all levels, where I am and where I’m heading.

So, as I am finally on what I call a vacation, at home in a big city with my partner and my view of the park, I may as well use this time to catch up on some writing.

The bus, the passengers on it and the city that we were moving through probably represent the movement of humanity in a place that I don’t really recognize and haven’t a clue as to where I really am. I’m not kidding, I ask myself this question all of the time, where the hell am I? To say that I’m in Taiwan on a planet called earth, doesn’t really answer anything at all for me. This is a physical existence, sure, but what the hell does that mean? Lol, just moving along with just a glimpse of what goes on inside of me on a daily basis - somewhat more so for me I guess, now that I’m on vacation.

The little girl trapped under the wheelchair while the bus threatens to leave her behind, represents my willingness to help out even though somewhere deep down, I know that nothing is going to stop or slow the movement or change taking place within and as the human race, not even for the innocent. Perhaps this also has something to do with the inevitability of some getting lost or left behind, which for me is not  considerable, not even calculable for reasons (of thinking) beyond the scope of this post.  I guess I could say that it just doesn’t compute😉.

On the human bus (in the human race), not knowing where I am or where I’m really going is how it’s been my entire life and perhaps for many lives before, perhaps even my entire existence. I could wake up tomorrow without any memory in a strange land without a clue as to where I am, and I don’t think I’d really be too phased by it. Actually, I did that before in the third of fourth grade when I had amnesia. Except for feeling like an idiot in school for the next four or five years, it didn’t really bother me at all. And I guess there was another time when it suddenly occurred to me to ask the voices inside of my head, what the hell was I doing here in this human body and how did we all get here, but that’s another story.

As for the city, this place where we are, looking somewhat like a Disney production, this point has to do with my lack of faith, I guess you could say as to the “realness” of reality with such simple (beautiful nonetheless) pictures, that I only see surfaces of. To be honest, I long to see and understand more than just the surface levels of things. I often make an effort to look more closely, but there seems to be parameters that are not easily stretched.

The “white leather jacket patterned to that of a big American flag draped on the stairs (obviously placed there for me to slip on and fall on) is actually a very useful point for me to consider at this time in my life. In looking at the symbolism as it relates to me: while the American flag represents patriotism, the fact (in a dream sense) that it’s been draped on the stairs as something that might cause me to slip and fall, rings of a warning from me to myself to be careful not to get caught up in taking sides in the whirlwind of revolutionary fervor. I will assign a memory note to this point.

As for the man behind me that looks like he was just punched in the nose (presumably by me), that I decide to let go ahead of me as a security precaution, well, I interpret this as being another reminder to be careful not to hurt or offend people. As there’s no running from the past, it’s important to do our best in the present to make sure there’s nothing to run from in the future.

As for deciding to stay a while longer on the bus with some strangers drinking a strange liquor, the bottom line as far as my life is concerned (as I have said many times), I have nothing better (read more important) to do, no place else that I’d rather be and nothing else that I’d rather be doing, at least not that I recall. So I’m alright with staying for a while longer. And relaxing on the beach is but recurring point that’s been coming up in dreams my entire life. The problem is, every time I’ve actually stayed on the beach for a while (in reality), I’ve always been ready to move along after no more than a week or two.

And to finish out the analysis of my dream, I’m thankful that I still have a sense of humor - even at the unconsciousness level. Lol. What's the name of this country, I ask, meaning what’s the name of this place that I’m currently passing through? Brokie (meaning broken). I like that one.

Amazing the insight and clarity that can be extracted from dreams. The key I guess, is to have and to take the time to analyse the symbols.

Continuing with the word, Honor

The Future of Consciousness

Honor, when I look at this word, honor, the words arm (as a verb), armor, shield and coat of arms come up. While I do have an idea why these words come up and I want to write this out, I’m also somewhat resistant to write it. It’s almost as though in writing this out, the mystique that I’ve attached to this point and defined myself by for so long could all disappear, leaving me with… Not yet a clean slate, but another step taken in the direction of undefining myself. So I now see how I had misused and abused the word, honor, and as a knowing I get it or at least I think I get it. However, I’m  still going to write this out, just to kind of like get it out of me. Besides, everything else that I started writing this week turned out to be but pages of words winding round as though I were coming to a conclusion, only to find myself in the same old infinity trap - right is wrong, good is bad, you are me and everything is actually ONE AND THE SAME - which I’m pretty sure is actually the case with existence, except for the file number, coordinates or signature of each one’s location-point/awareness/perspective or viewpoint. That’s why there’s never been and never will be any escape from here: you can never escape what you are,  leaving all with no choice but to change who/how we are.

A long long time ago, I guess about 46-47 years ago when I was about 8, 9 or 10, I remember walking on the road near my home in a small town called Chester New Jersey. I was angry (in a spoiled bratty way) that I would be disrespected and mistreated to such an extent as to be placed in such a poor (financially speaking) family, that was also kind of broken. With a mother who had five other children besides me to look after and certainly didn’t feel the need to cater to my every whim, I felt not only very out of place, but also very vulnerable, exposed, trapped and alone. In looking at myself, my mother, my brothers and sisters, it was as though a mistake had been made. For I could see of our stature (for lack of a better word) that we  just did not fit into the lower class theme that we were in. Honestly, even back then, I really just wanted a normal life, to feel safe and secure and (in looking back) I guess I could also say, to not have to fight for everything.

It’s strange because this particular memory of me complaining to the voices in my head also seems to be merged with another prominent memory of me asking how we got here. And I kind of like this story (of  me imagining a big blue blob that decided to separate into a gazillion pieces, go fourth in the search for more and eventually return) because many years later I would connect  that blue blob with additional dots of information to build upon in my search for answers. Actually, I still do quite enjoy gathering information,  discarding  the non-essential bits (perhaps those which don’t fit my story line - lol) and storing it in an effort to piece together bit by bit the story of our existence. However, I’ve also begun to realize that the real challenge or real story is not going to be written based on finding answers out there, but in creating them within and as ourselves, as “all” that is here by changing ourselves to change what is here. As a side note,  Eqafe.com is an awesome place to go for perspectives on questions from The Secret History of the Universe to Demons in the Afterlife for  those who want answers and the tools to find or create them.

So in continuing looking inwords into myself, I really felt that I was far far too high of a being, spirit or soul (whatever it was I called myself back then) to have been placed in such a lowly situation. It was beneath me, dishonoring and downright insulting as far as I was concerned, even as a child. Which, as an adult, begs the question, how and why would I even come up with such notions?

The next point that comes up in relation to this point of honor is of certain recurring dreams that I used to have as a child. Perhaps I also viewed certain dreams back then as though they were memories; I think I  did, for I still do to an extent. The essence of these dreams (as with most of my dreams back then) were violent, very violent. All around me it seemed as though a sea of red clothed bodies were just hacking away at other bodies attempting to avoid being hacked and chopped up by battle axes, blocking the attacks with our shields, thrusting with our swords and just hacking and hacking away. And you couldn’t just hack once, you had to do it again and again and then on to the next. It felt like I had to fight so hard, every once of strength had to be utilized and every move was a struggle just to stay alive. There wasn’t fear, there wasn’t anger, just complete focus on fighting. From these dreams and of course all the other information that I absorbed like a sponge, when I would look at the point of previous lives, I just assumed (and believed that I had always been a soldier and was very good at what I did.

The next point that comes up is the family coat of arms that I grew up with (see below). I found a picture of it on the internet and although the color hues are different than the one that was hanging in the playroom of my childhood home, it’s the same one.  The crane symbolizes vigilancia or vigilance. As the legend or story goes (as per my mom and my memory of the story she once told or wrote about), the cranes on the banks of the Nile river would sound the alarm whenever a Nile crocodile was approaching, hence the symbolism of vigilance I guess. The stone it appears to be holding is also symbolic; however, I don’t seem to have a memory for that one yet.  The reason I say “yet” is because I’m fairly certain I could probably pull one up, make one up or imagine something that sounds reasonable, lol, really.  In the absence of truth as an understanding of the standard by which to measure one’s understanding of everything else, is there really any certainty or understanding of anything at all? 

The castle walls behind the crane refer to the castle of Carini, Sciliy and it’s still there. The thing is (and I’m not sure whether this was before, during or after my mother’s many words on the subject of my father’s family history) I also had quite a few dreams involving a castle or what seemed to be a big house or fortress made of big rocks. Some of those dreams had to do with treachery, betrayal and an unforgiving code of honor, which until several years ago, as part of my personal process, I had not forgiven myself for and even lived in fear of reliving that horror - that I had experienced in my dream, which I believed was possibly a memory. All because of what; the sins of the fathers (as a form of DNA based memories), my mother’s stories of my father’s lineage, the heaven existence fucking with me, or has it all just been of my imagination?  

The red cloak is of course it’s a reference to Roman patronage. As the story goes, as I’ve interpreted it, the family were very good fighters, distinguishing themselves to such an extent that they were given a castle and princedom for their service to Rome. Furthermore, when I look into that red helmet and the emblem surrounding it, it’s as though another line of imagination (also connected to dreams and other information as dots of information) begins to emerge going back beyond the current human timeline to a time when creatures (human-like but not like we are now) also roamed the earth. Btw, in one of my dreams, I remember going down the stone stairs into the basement (or whatever it’s called) of a castle and hiding a ring and some other stuff behind one of the stones in the wall.

As a child, I didn’t just have dreams of fighting in Roman wars, I also had dreams time and time again of nuclear holocaust, devastation the likes that Hollywood wasn’t even able to depict back in those days. I guess I could have read about that kind of stuff in books, but I don’t think that’s where the information came from because if it was, I would have location points (of origin) connecting to those dots or information.

There’s no way (that I’m aware of) to really be certain what of the past ever actually manifested in physical reality, what was of pure energy and was perhaps a mix of substance and energy intertwined or interwoven to give us what we call physicality. I’m not even certain exactly why I’m writing this out now. I guess it’s to better understand or comprehend how and why I came to define honor as the armor or coat of arms that I had to protect in return for the protection I believed it afforded me - something like that.

So an interesting thing just happened, especially given all this talk about dreams. I took a break for about an hour and a half to have my regular afternoon nap. Yea, these days, I usually have a nap in the afternoon for about 40 minutes to 1 ½ hours. And just before waking, I found myself in my childhood home talking with my older brother Jim, my older sister Trish and my younger brother Paul. Then suddenly I said to them: something’s not right here, mom sold this house a long time ago and she’s no longer with us, gone to the other side, crossed over, so this can’t be real. Then I started explaining, this can’t be the physical reality, it must be a dream. And just as I was saying that sentence, I looked for one of my brothers and he was gone. Oh c'mon, I said. For even as I was calling out the dream for being a dream, a part of me still viewed it as reality and wanted it to be so. The others also disappeared and then I woke up.

In writing this out, it's not about the definitions of myself being right or wrong, but about writing them all out of myself in order to decide what to keep, what to discard and what to redefine. I’ll finish up this post here and most likely continue on the subject in another posts.

Dreams

As a child and a younger man, I often used to dream of places and things that were not of the current reality, at least not of the one I was living. I dreamed of demons and fighting in wars. So many wars, a sea of blood and red battle cloth like the Romans used to wear. Me in the middle of it all with my shield on my left arm, swinging my sword with the other, blocking, lunging and a lot of just hacking into and through so many bodies. In these dreams, I was a soldier, killing was what I did, I was very good at it and there was not fear, not even remorse. 

In other dreams there would be huge bodies of water, mountains, rivers and lakes with the clearest blue waters that I would swim in and even breathe under water. There were also large white stone buildings that I guess I lived in. This place was like heaven to me, a timeless repreve that I wished would never end, but I know it always did. Thus there were the dreams of the physical reality and those of being in heaven. Some of them were so clear that I was certain and still am that they were of past lives, deaths and, I guess my vacations in heaven.

In one dream, I remember being awakened from my sleep in a dark cave or room made of stone. A very big man in a fur coat had just walked in and even though it was dark, there was a dim light around him. As got up to defend myself, I saw his long slender knife with a blade that appeared to be made of white stone or ivory. As we moved towards on another, he thrust the knife into me and upward just under the center of my ribcage. And just like that, another life was done. The thing about this dream was the experience, of floating while still there, no longer cold and alone, but warm and embraced.

I wish I could remember or dream more about all of the good deeds that I’ve done. I’m sure they are many, too many to count. So many things that I wonder about: does everyone treat knives as though they were dangerous weapons, never, never to be left out after going to bed? I do and everytime I touch one, it’s the same thing that comes up in my mind as a knowing. I push the thought away, do what I’ve set out to do and then securely put things out of sight and away. I could go on and on in wondering about myself and I think I will for a little while, today.

Let’s talk about demons. Strangely enough, where they are concerned for the most part, my memories are good, full of adventure, overcoming fears while rescuing the demons. As a teenager and into my early twenties, my technique for finding demons evolved to an extent. What I would do before going to sleep was to instruct myself to remain awake while my body slept. At some point, the ethereal me (I guess you could call it) would begin to float and I would will myself to move more into or out of my body. We used to call this astral traveling, but now I think that I didn’t actually move anywhere. When I first started to do this - waking up while still sleeping, the demons would surprise me, play tricks on me and it was very scary. For example, one time as I was walking through a dimly lit tunnel, I came upon an old lady in need of some help. As I naturally approached her, she embraced me and put her mouth close to my neck as though to whisper something to me. Instead what I got was a scowl from her and a cold breath of air on my neck that I could still feel as I awoke. However, the more I encountered the demons the less I began to fear them. Eventually, I even began to search for them. I learned that I, too could play tricks and even harm them if I wanted, but usually, almost always except for once, I helped them. At least my intention was to help them and I believed that I was by showing them a way to set themselves free. It was something I guess that I had read in one of my books. I would embrace the demons, tell them that they were lost in between worlds and all they needed to do was to call out and look for a loved one and then follow that light - lol.  As far as I was concerned, this methodology worked, I enjoyed using it, so I did quite often. Unfortunately, not all of my stories have happy endings.

At about the age of twenty-six, while traveling through Thailand and staying in a hostel, my own room of course. For, in order for me to actually sleep, all of the doors and windows always needed and still do need to be locked and checked at least three to five times before I’ll go to bed. I guess that’s probably normal activity for a lot of people. Anyway, that day I awoke with a message or a feeling that the boarding school I had attended in high school was in danger. Thus I immediately went back to sleep with the intention of traveling there. When I arrived moments later, I went straight up into the attic of the very large old main building. There, sitting in front of one of the small windows at the top of the building was a bloated demon, purple and blue with shades of dark red. When it saw me, it turned its head and released a growl that was more like a moan. Without thinking or even considering its plight, I extended both of my hands in its direction and willed bolts of energy at it. locking it in so that it had no chance of escape,  I maneuvered it down the grand stairway and towards the large wooden doors. As the doors flung open, I summoned all of my strength. The red bolts of energy turned green and I literally (in a dream sense) blasted that demon into smithereens.  To this day, I’m not sure why I did that. Was it fear or anger, I don’t know. What I do know is that I had judged myself as guilty of harming that which I could have helped and from that point on, my dreams of doing good deeds while mixing with demons came to an end.

So many dreams that some might say are just fabrications that I’ve made up inside of my head. This could be true, for in my world sometimes I think that everyone is but of part of me, which would mean that in their worlds I am but of part of them. Think about it, each of us living out our lives, each within a matrix inside of our own little bubbles.

There’s one more dream of the past, that I want to talk about today and then I’ll get to the one I had last night. It wasn’t of dying and it wasn’t of killing, but suddenly it slips my mind. Breathe in, hold and then breathe out. Now I see it, the question, am I a good magician or a? That was the question chanted over and over from an unseen force twirling me in circles round and round in the air. In watching TV shows, movies  and even the news of late, it would appear that so many are still dreaming of being magicians, witches, vampires and even demons with super powers to do what power always seems to do - rip apart, harm and destroy - all for the better good of course. Does this mean that the age of magic is once again descending upon us? Perhaps, but what is always shown and rarely realized or understood is that, power consumes and begets only power. And like that which dreams are made of, the power never lasts - at least not without unconditional giving and receiving.

 In last night’s dream I was a young man, probably in my late teens. Upon showing the people that I had some talent and that I could sing a little, they offered to train me and let me join their troupe. Although I wanted to learn to sing and dance, I also knew that I had other learning to attend to. Thus I knew deep down inside that this was something I probably wouldn’t do. No, it wasn’t much of dream, but it is part of a change that I’ve begun to notice. Specifically, it seems that I’m beginning once again to dream as I dreamed when I was young.

On a closing note for today, I’ve noticed an old message has begun to pop up - like from deep down inside of me. It says that the time is coming for me to do a lot more writing. I wonder, is this just another part of my programming? For me, this is sweet but also a little sour. For with writing comes responsibility in consideration of what actually needs to be written - not just the fun stuff like today’s writing, but principles that need to be imputed.  And then there’s the message that I recently heard on Eqafe.com: the time of inputting messages is over, now is time to live. Excellent point. Therefore, like a turtle knowing where it’s going, yet not too concerned when it will get there, I will now look ahead and I take another step.

Dream of Kittens and Seeing a Cat

This afternoon, I had a dream while taking a nap. I saw some kittens, they couldn’t have been more than two months old. I picked one up and pet it. It was orange and white. Another one who looked similar was also nearby. Then the one I was comforting jumped into one of my sneakers that was nearby. I guess it was looking for a safe place to be. While I was considering bringing one or two of the kittens home, a third one appeared and began to meow. I reached out my hand to hold it and give it comfort. It played for a bit, biting my fingers gently at first, but then it started biting harder as though it were hungry and needed something to eat. It would have torn my flesh off with those sharp little teeth if I hadn’t pulled it off of me by grabbing the skin on the back of its neck and lifting it away from my fingers. When I awoke, I was glad that I hadn’t harmed the kitten, the one that tried to eat my finger. I know, but even though it was a dream, it’s important for me not to harm little things or big things for that matter.

This evening as I write this, I was considering that dream when suddenly I recalled today’s walk. As I was walking up to my Saturday karaoke spot on the mountain. I spotted a white and black cat on the side of the road. She looked at me and I looked at her and she began to meow as though she were asking me for something, some kind of assistance, perhaps it was food. I started to approach her, which something inside of me said not to do, but I still did. Not that I was going to pet a stray cat, but maybe I would have, especially given my history. Yea, I’ve been bit more than once, even once on the nose after being given clear instructions not to open the door and go near that dog.

The cat moved away and I didn’t pursue our encounter because I was hungry. I knew that cat was hungry, too. Yet, there was also something else about our encounter. Was it just a coincidence? Maybe, but honesty, other than two incidences occurring at the same time and nearly the same place, I do not buy into the idea of luck, coincidence or whatever you call it. For me, all incidents are outflows of past incidents, meaning that having a dream about kittens and then seeing a cat look me in the eyes and attempt to communicate with me, do not just happen arbitrary. Maybe sometimes they do, but not this time. I’m not exactly sure how to read or interpret this. Perhaps it’s time for me adopt some kittens . 😊 The picture above is similar to the cat I saw while walking on the road - not dreaming. On a final note for this evening: what ever happened to a simple smiley face, one that I don't have to click ten times to find? 

A Dream of Being Lost - Part II, Analysis

A Dream of Being Lost - Part II

From writing out part I of A Dream of Being Lost, I’ve been able to pinpoint various fears or energetic definitions of inferiority - that which I’ve been standing in fear of. For example, “out drinking” and “alcoholic” being at the beginning and the end of the dream indicate to me the primary fear that a part of me is pointing out to myself, which I am now in the process of facing by writing/righting it out of the mind to a more organized, more manageable view, my computer screen. In relation to alcohol, even though I’ve  moderated my alcohol consumption as I’ve grown older over the years, I am still  holding onto  a fear of falling back into a pattern of drinking excessively. Herein, an interesting point or lesson that I’ve learned in relation to fear is, that which I fear, if I hold onto it and keep charging it, will eventually manifest into and as my  reality. The reason this fear was coming up over the last couple of weeks had to with my plans to go to the Earthfest, Taiwan music festival for for the weekend. In the past, I had been to these kinds of festivals before and always ended up feeling like shit, driving home and for the next week because I had partied too much and burned myself out. Therefore, in pinpointing the fear, I considered how I was going to release it so not to manifest it as my  reality and instead, go have a fun weekend.

Having written out perhaps over a thousand pages of self-forgiveness and self-commitment/correction statements, I have realized one of many important points. Writing out and sounding self-forgiveness and self-commitment statements assist in releasing the fear energy; however, there is still the point of following through with the commitments in real time physical living so to manifest real change again and again as self trust expands to solidify the changes = self creation as the directive principle. Therefore, after sounding self-forgiveness and commitment statements in relation to this fear, I realized what I required to do was simply a matter of trusting myself to do as I had committed to do. It was actually quite simple: don’t drink too much and make sure I got to bed at a reasonable hour. This is exactly what I did on Friday night and Saturday. Then, on Sunday morning (today) as my old and new friends were having their beer breakfast, I was packing up my gear and getting ready to drive home, wash clothes, do some writing and take a walk. To sum it up, as with so many things I participate with in this world, including breathing polluted air and eating potato chips, not all of fun things are what’s best for my body. Thus, my goal is to manage myself in/as awareness of how I’m standing and this requires self-trust that I will in deed live my commitments as the directive principle determining in the moment who/how I am. In conclusion on this point, this weekend was a successful opportunity to do just that, build self trust within to create myself as the understanding that I am able to remain the directive principle even when surrounded by temptation.

There is still some more points to look at from this dream and I will do that in part III

Facing Fear in my Dreams

I've had a couple of interesting dreams that I would to share. The first one occurred two nights ago.

It was as though I was partially aware of myself inside of my mind. The space was dark and also light with some objects and at least one slightly scary presence. I experienced a moment of fear, and then I guess I realized that there was opportunity here for me to have a look at what fears I have been carrying around inside of me, like those little frightening images that I would occasionally be startled by when they popped up in scary movies.

So I said to myself, let's see what it is that I've allowed myself to fear. Then suddenly in front of me, objects or pictures of objects began to appear. They were for the most part silly little things that I guess I have reacted to in fear over the years. The one that I remember most was like a a baby doll looking at me with black eyes and a chunk missing from its bloody head. One by one and very quickly, the objects appeared and disappeared like holographic images in the darkness in front, and this time I stared at each of them without fear.

Then suddenly, there I was hanging on the edge of a ledge of a wooden balcony of sorts. As the broken wood splintered and the planks started to careen, a baby wrapped in a blanket appeared next to me. With my right arm, I grabbed hold of the child, and I knew inside me that I was determined not to let it fall. As the ledge tilted even further, I was hanging there, my left hand holding on by a branch or something, and in my right arm, the child. I thought that perhaps I didn't have the strength to with one arm raise us both up to safety; yet I also realized that perhaps I could, and so I did, and when I looked at the baby again, it was a different child.

Something to note about what I have just written: when I began a few moments ago, I hadn't remembered the second part of the dream until I began to physically write it out; interesting how many points open up once one begins to write them out.

In the next dream that I had just this last night, I was walking along when I recognized two other people. I guess we were both walking in the same direction when one of them suggested that we walk though the local nuclear power plant. I said something like, I have already walked through the local non-nuclear power plant and there's no way they are going to just let us stroll through a high security nuclear one.

As we were walking up some stone stairs with a stone wall on our left and a drop straight down into what seemed to be blue water, something with a body that may have been light-brown, jumped up from the water and wrapped a snake-like tentacle around me. 

With the snake-like tentacle wrapped around me and a fish head at the end of it trying to poke me in the face, this thing seemed to be trying to pull me down off the stairs. As I was struggling to hold on and not be pulled off the stairs, I was holding onto the fish-head in front of my face and trying to break it off. Suddenly with a jerk and a tear in my lower back, I was out of the dream, and that's how I woke – with a pain in right side of my lower back.

Day 65: Dreams and Memories

Early this morning I woke up with a dream fresh in my mind. Usually (for some time now) I wouldn't hold onto it or even look at it unless there was knowing or feeling that it's important and I should look at it. However, since I had seen the subject of dreams come up on one of the forums, I decided to look at this one. The dream in itself was one that used to be reoccurring yet hadn't reoccurred in quite some time. What was interesting about looking into this dream was that: first, whereas usually I as mind would jump at the chance to go into pictures, I noticed that I had to directly energetically push/move to go into the dream/memories. Secondly was that when comparing the contents of the dream, there were pictures/images with meanings associated with them, yet they were as / the same as a memory / in the same category as a memory. In other words, as I lay there directing myself to look at this in review, everything was clear, yet I was unable to distinguish whether it was of a dream or of a memory of an actual occurrence. It was a cool experience, and I was reminded of a warning not to trust your memories because they can be manipulated. Also, I've written extensively on the subject of memories in that I do not put any faith/trust in them. This evening while writing this, I’ve put the pieces together and determined that the images/point presented had to have been of a dream, yet it does appear that some records have overlapped. From now on I'll start occasionally checking dreams to see if this happens again. In the “mean” time – as this experience has shown me, don't trust the dreams/memories, leave the past where it lie.

• I forgive myself that I have accepted to not see/realize and understand that I've perpetuated a crime against myself by thinking that my dreams could be memories and in thinking did not see that I had left myself behind and gone into the mind. Within this I see/realize and understand that the way forward is to stay out of the mind no matter what tricks are used to lure me in – there is no need to go there. Thus, I commit myself to not look at memories or dreams unless I clearly direct myself to do so from a starting point of self directedness.
• I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to go into energy in terms of looking at this whole incident in attempting to make it more than it is – a dream that feels like a memory. Within this I see/realize and understand that I may fine what I’m looking for, but that doesn't mean that it's really there. Thus I commit myself to not “read” into anything, and instead observe and direct in accordance with what is best for all.
  Creation's Journey to Life
  Heaven's Journey to Life
  Earth's Journey to Life
  Desteni
  EQAFE
  Thomas La Grua
  DIP Lite
  
  

Day 20: Skeletons in the closet: Here's mud in My face

The title refers to the symbolism of two dreams I recalled upon waking on two separate occasions. Usually I try not to focus on or remember dreams unless their symbolism is immediately apparent; sometimes I'm successful, and sometimes not. On this occasion, it seemed as though I was successful, and then suddenly the symbolism, metaphorically speaking came forth. 

In the Skeletons in the closet dream I was avoiding (by fighting and defeating) something that kept trying to get me. The dream ended with bags of bones being dug up and presented to the people of a village. I was on the other side of the bones, facing the people. In the second dream I was literally running around, playfully, competitively, throwing mud in people's faces. I sometimes missed, but mostly I hit my target and then move onto the next. Perhaps the symbolism of the two dreams on the same day is that I am throwing insults and with each done deed, another skeleton gets thrown into my closet – the conscious and subconscious layers of my mind. The reason that we have closets is to keep things out of sight out of mind. What's in my closet?

Throwing mud in people's faces (metaphorically speaking) is something that I’ve done, overtly and covertly; the only difference between the two is the acceptance of self-honesty / responsibility as and for the directive that caused the outcome – harm unto me and or another/others/all. Within me, there is this voice coming up, saying: “This is bullshit; you don't need to write about this. Don't give a shit what others think. If they can't handle what you say, too bad for them, they're weak.” And these days, when that voice speaks / tells me not to write, I know I'm right on track. I have used words to establish “my” position of superiority. I didn't care whether those relative to whom I was establishing such position, saw it or not, but I've always imagined that an audience recognized that I had, through cleverly placed words, established that superior position. It just now occurs to me that when writing, I almost never write form a perspective of looking in at me and writing about me; it's always from a perspective of looking in at me, and writing for an audience: to impress, convince, insult, manipulate... I have used/abused words to harm – as in slinging words towards another and or others. Sometimes I’ve done this in the form of questions designed to evoke emotional responses from the subject of my attack – manipulating someone to become angry, without overtly even attacking them at all. Very evil, as I've now seen for quite some time. But has seeing the evil, stopped me from participating within and as it? Consciously/overtly, yes. Unconsciously/covertly, the dreams say otherwise.

• I forgive myself that I’ve accepted and allowed myself to not see/realize and understand that when I write solely for an audience, I am writing to manipulate members of that audience, and within this the question must be asked: is this manipulation that which is best for all or is it for the self-interest of me as ego. I see/realize and understand that writing is a tool to understand and cleanse me of the systems that have plagued and enslaved me, and at this point, for me to write to an audience is as a slave preaching the message of freedom as though he is already set himself free.
• I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to be the center of attention within and as me as mind, not seeing/realizing and understanding that the mud as words and deeds that I covertly and or overtly sling towards the faces of others is of ego, backchat, the inner face of me. Within this I see/realize and understand that to be free of ego is to freely give unto others that which I would have given to me, i.e., support others as I would be supported – like a child holding another child’s hand as we both cross a busy street.
• I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to in writing and speaking, encode within the sentences a stance of superiority, masking the inferiority – that part of me within and as me that I am unaware / not yet standing one with and equal. Within this I forgive myself that I have not yet seen/realized and understood that to effectively write myself out to freedom, I must understand that, when writing about what I see as external/separate from me, I am actually writing of and about me: I create the words, therefore they are me. Thus, I accept responsibility for all as me, and from within and as this stance I will continue to write so that I may see all aspects of me. Then, point by point change me so as to change all as me.
• I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to believe that the knowledge and information that I possess is actually me, when in reality it's just knowledge and information possessing me because I have yet to live it as me. I see/realize and understand that knowledge and information must (if we are to reverse the mistakes of this world) be used/lived only in support of that which is best for all in all possible ways.
• I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to not see that,  within and as me is Ego fighting for its survival, the right to spite others, the right to so-called free-choice which is basically the right to commit acts of self-interest = acts which are not in the best interests of all. I see/realize and understand that I am this criminal called Ego – it's me, and as such only I may rehabilitate/change me to that which walks as an example of that which in all ways possible supports that which is best for all – simplistically, equality and oneness. It's a breath by breath process that within and as each breath, I clearly see how effectively I am directing me.
• I forgive myself that I have accepted and allowed myself to not see that in order to assist others as me I must humbly do so from a position of striving to live equality and oneness.
• I forgive myself that I’ve accepted and allowed myself to not see/realize and understand that my task is to first set myself free so that I may assist others to set themselves free, and then once we are all free, we will all understand the absolute necessity of absolute equality – the key to heaven on earth, harmony.
• I commit myself to writing from a perspective of me writing me for all to see, and within this, the changes that are or aren't seen will verify who I am and where I stand: as creator of the words, they are the state of me.
• I commit myself to in this process of writing, self-forgiveness and self-corrective application, ask myself whether these words are words that will measurably contribute to what is best for all, i.e., will they stand the test of time, the test of the mind, the test of Life.