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dreamstate writing 11 May 2018

5/11/2018

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During much of this morning’s dream I was worming my way through the hallways and staircases of a vast series of interlocking, cliff-mounted structures. Sometimes I was alone, and sometimes hordes of other people crowded into the structures’ rooms, making it hard for me to move around. I was trying to get from one disc golf tee-box to another, but these were spaced far apart from one another and the layout of the place was confusing, causing me to climb many stairs and squeeze down many tunnels built into and through the homes of the people living there. Each time I threw my discs, they sailed out of view. Although I knew were they had landed, I had a difficult time figuring out how to get there through the maze of interlocking buildings.

At one point, I was standing at the top of a staircase conferring with some of the people judging the event (or who were at least doing something officious). Turning around, I found the stairs behind me so impossibly packed with people that my only recourse for descending to the floor below was to jump out over the side of the railing and hand-carry myself on the outside edges of the individual steps to the floor below. As I reached the bottom my legs brushed against the stockinged feet of a lass resting with two other women on a couch. She immediately stripped her socks off whilst giving me evil looks, to which I responded (as I was walking out a nearby door) by mocking her concern for her striped and colorful socks, saying something like “My legs aren’t that dirty.”


Later in the dream sequences, I was in an alpine city built onto level ground that was covered with a few inches of slushy snow. Despite the presence of frozen precipitation I knew the city was on Bali, the Island of the Gods, somewhere high up the side of one of its towering volcanoes. The city was party ruined, many of its sparsely-placed high-rise buildings damaged or collapsed, but its streets were packed with cars, buses, and people attending to business. Twice whilst in the city I stepped up into a burnt-out single-family home in which stood a representation of my deceased father, an older man with grey hair but strong arms and big hands who embraced me in a great hug and asked why I was groaning in pain and weeping loudly. (After the second time meeting the older man I indeed lay awake in bed crying, hugging myself about the chest, and basking in the memory of those who have died before me.) Falling back asleep, I found myself sitting in the slushy snow talking to a bypassing woman wearing a tan overcoat, who had stopped to admonish me to seek a drier place to sit lest I catch the sniffles.

The thick wool socks I was wearing, though they like the rest of me sat in mounds of cold wet, were nonetheless bone dry, which to my dream-consciousness seemed slightly odd.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
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dreamstate writing 26 Apr 2018

4/26/2018

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The following are particulars from this morning’s dream.

I and another were in the crystal clear, aquamarine ocean trying to figure out where waves might be breaking that we could surf on later, but the current near the beach was very strong and the rocks that formed part of the ocean floor there were sharp and jagged. A traditional Indonesian outrigger boat arrived, whereupon I am my companion left the sea.

Then, I was sheltering from the noon sun in a partial clearing under palm trees and other tropical vegetation, near the ocean, sitting on a wooden park-bench with at least one other entity, who was dark blue in color and sat behind me and to the right. Seeing movement to my left, I looked over to find an orange-skinned local woman turning a suckling pig on a spit over a fire. When I greeted her in her tongue I heard a voice say Selemat Pagi, which means Good Morning, to which I responded with Selemat Soreh, which means Good Afternoon. The voice near the woman echoed my response. Without ceasing in her task of spinning the small roasting pig and with unseeing eyes staring right at me, she opened her mouth, out of which white fluid flowed unabated to splatter on the white-gold sands below. I turned away from her to make a comment about what time of day it was to the blue-skinned fellow behind me and to my right, at which point we were approached by an entity resembling an old friend of mine from Bali who has long dreadlocks. The newcomer tried to drum up enthusiasm for a surf trip on his friend’s boat to the reef, where the were breaking.

From right to left across the clearing walked a very pregnant woman with dark hair and light skin wearing a light blue and white floral dress whose hands were covered in a dusting of a white substance and whose forearms bulged with thick muscles. The blue-skinned entity told me that the forearms are controlled by the front edges of the ribs, which in the physics of the dreamworld made sense to me.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
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dreamscape writing 1 Mar 2018

3/1/2018

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[This dream occurred after I had gone back to sleep following my morning thankfulness ceremony, having eschewed my morning meditation practice due to poor sleep and being in a foul mood.]

I and a handful of others were in a steam locomotive working our way through a long system of tunnels. We’d come far already, having traveled a great distance under what felt like a vast mountain. Reaching a fork in the path, the train split into two part, each with its own locomotive. From an initial position at the front of the first loc my perspective switched to the cow-catcher on the second engine, from where I could see and hear the engineers running them talking to one another. The first loc was driven by a dark-faced man, the second by a woman with dark hair. They were both wearing World War 1 style doughboy helmets and had to duck back into their compartments repeatedly due to the tightness of the translucent white tunnels through which we passed. (The tunnels were open at parts, bisected here and there by pillars that seemed organic, as if they’d grown into place.) The trains rapidly decelerated, and the female driver informed her counterpart that the tracks stopped just up ahead.


At least five people left the trains and walked into a large cavern located at the tracks’ terminus. Both tunnels opened up into the cavern via vaulted passageways. The rear and side walls of the cavern were of rough-hewn, living stone about five meters high and ten meters wide. Its ceiling was shored up by rough timber scaffolding and sloped in a rounded fashion downward from the rear wall forward, which I could see had a door of wooden planks set into it, locked with heavy iron chains. (The cavern was shaped like the quarter of a cylinder.) I and the others began to explore the cavern, finding a running spring to our left (protected by a rusted iron fence whose gate stood open) and four separate raised garden beds, two on each side with a shallow trough running between them. I began planning out where we could sleep and in which beds we could plant crops. As the others continued to explore, I floated over and examined the locked door, at which point I discovered that some of the planks had fallen aside, revealing through a square of intact mosquito netting (set into a framework painted red) a suburban street beyond (the street was one located on a hill above UCLA in Westwood, CA). Our group rejoiced upon finding that our journey was nearly complete.

Using a power-drill I then began to try to pull out the large screws that secured the chains to the crude planks of the door. They were slotted screws and my bit kept slipping, as I was using a Phillips-head. Suddenly, I and two other unseen presences were sitting on a vast mudflat which stretched ahead of us for at least five hundred meters, terminating in a coastal road with tall green mountains rising above it. The screws I was trying to undo secured not a door but chains wrapped around a gambling machine the size of a 1980s boombox. The machine had slots for coins and bills, the jackpot being a million dollars. I asked one of the others for a dollar to feed into the jackpot slot and was rebuffed. Attached to the rear, right-hand side of the gambling machine were various removable implements such as a multitool and an old-fashioned label maker, both of which slotted neatly in grooves designed for them. (The label maker was marked with the numbers, 1, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 19, and others.) I was attaching a slotted screw-bit to the multitool (for some reason, it featured a low-quality, full-sized steak knife), removing other tools so that I could manipulate the screws using the short bit. At that point the seawater started to rise around us and I patted my left pants pocket, dismayed to find my mobile phone located there. The unseen others and I grabbed the gambling machine and scattered tools and rushed for a mound of mud behind us, at which point I saw at least two others, the dark-haired woman and a man, bathing in a pool of blood-red liquid to our left. (We became halfway submerged before reaching the mound, which caused me to fear for my mobile phone and plan for ways to dry it out using rice.) Once reaching higher ground, a blond-haired woman jumped carelessly into the aforementioned, gated spring, which now filled a deep basin of tan sandstone, the roof and one of the sidewalls of the cavern having disappeared. The dark-haired woman, still dripping with red fluid, entered the pool as well. When she resurfaced her hair was also blond. I turned to look at the far shore and reckoned it would take us at least an hour to swim over to it, the mudflats upon which we’d been sitting have been entirely filled up by the sea.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
​
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March 14th, 2017

3/14/2017

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glowing golden-white

This morning, I had a dream within a dream. In the first dream, I was meditating within a massively small white space, my seven spinal chakras showing. They had black rims that contained their appropriate colors and Sanskrit symbols. A potent and well-defined figure hovered in the aether above my head, his gaze mellow, wide-reaching, and fixed elsewhere. As I focused more clearly on this figure, I saw he was wearing dark blue clothing (made of a shiny substance similar to leather) and a wide-brimmed hat.


Sensing perhaps my attention, he looked at me; I shrunk from the strength of his piercing eyes. His presence and power brought fear welling up inside me, whereupon I awoke from that deeper dream into a different one.

Sitting with me atop a unknowably large blanket of clouds under an azure sky, on my left-hand side, was a woman glowing golden-white. My fear of the previous visitor instantly vanished. I felt comfortable and at ease in the woman’s presence, as if she were my mother. At her 10th chakra pulsed a burning heart of pure gold from which slender, halcyon tendrils of loving energy flowed. Although I was enveloped within it, the bulk of her vast and immutable power was not fully directed at me, most of it flowing outward into the howling white non-space behind her.


She spoke to me, saying this about the hovering figure: “He is the devil.” My remaining sense-memory of him from the previous dream changed, his clothes turning red, his face becoming bearded and twisted into an angry rictus. He suddenly bore down upon me from on high, at which point I started to defend him, telling the glowing woman that he was not the devil but something else, a powerful figment perhaps. The landscape began to move quickly, a great rush of movement that overwhelmed my ability to keep track of my sense of self in space and time.

Whereupon I returned to the waking world of human consciousness.

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥
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