Mar 19, 2013


Night of March 18th/19th 2013

Summary: Encounter with god Eros; stay with foreign host family; masterfully use magic in play; shot in the hand; how positive attitude and joy in any situation is a miracle to behold by characters in my dreams (they are protective of it, they are drawn to it, they are amazed by it).

Having difficulty making sense enough to describe the event that led to the most vivid details I remember. I believe I was involved in a plan to contain a character (or multiple) who was hostile. I'm in a tight glass cage, like a telephone booth, but indoors. I am talking to this person in a positive manner, very relaxed, calling out his mis-behaviors as I might a child, though he is obviously an adult (maybe more). A man, my back-up enters the scene on the other side of the glass pointing a gun at us. He is frantic, sweating, nervous, wide-eyed. Why? I indicate to him to shoot, and move another person in this tight space I am protecting, but manage to move my hand right in the line of shot. The bullet shreds a hole through my palm. Target is immobilized. Still in an upbeat attitude, I jokingly criticize my back-up for shooting me, which he expressed feeling terrible about.

A man, - can't remember what he looks like, but he was very familiar to me in the dream - I tell him to sew up my wound. It is a big deal for me to have a wound sewed up, because it is something I've wondered about lately, how it would feel, if I could handle it, how important it is for a gash to heal. He begins. The tugging is worse than the initial shot through the palm. I'm laughing uncomfortably with the pain because I've been curious about it and am excited to be experiencing it nonetheless. Maintaining a joy in the experience that overwhelms any negativity has been working out well for me to maintain control and power in my dreams. 

Immediately after he's done sewing me, something strange happens. A man drops down from the sky behind me, catching me as I reel in surprise from the shot. I'm cursing my partner in my mind, but the pain is somehow tolerable. The shock is worse that there is a hole in my hand. I turn to the figure behind me, an immacculately muscular epitome of a greek god (in fact I think this in the dream). "Oh you're naked." I quickly investigate if he wore anything below the belt, being right up against him. "Completely naked. Okay." I chuckle to myself. He was fully nude, with dark, thick, black hair. Figured it was just his way and wasn't about to judge. Next moment, we are rising up into the air swiftly then back down. I don't know that we actually left the scene, but I had the distinct feeling he was trying to protect me by removing me to a safer location.

We land in a gust of wind, I'm being . "Who are you?" I have the knowing his name is Eros, the same as my son's middle name, so named because I went into labor on Valentine's day. I don't know what the Greek god Eros looks like though, or has been depicted as (until now). I let go of him having landed. "You're covered in oil." I almost think nothing of it, but ask if its olive oil, suggesting a greek god with this body would of course oil himself up. He isn't speaking. I don't take offense or find him rude. He had a focus about him, a compassion and care, like a protector. I felt wildly attracted to him, but also safe enough to fall asleep.

Oh wow, Eros has been depicted with the same dark hair as I saw on an ancient Red-Figure pottery bobbin displayed at the Louvre (Wikipedia). I don't recall him having wings, but we did levitate. Why was he concerned with me? Regardless, he played his part, and I let him be after poking fun at him for being covered in olive oil (may not have been olive oil though). Eros the God was, according to Hesiod, the fourth God to be created after Chaos, Gaia (Earth), and Tartarus (underworld), even before the sky. He's considered a primordial God, who did not have parents by some accounts, in others, he is the son of Aphrodite. He loved Psyche, originally a mortal woman who became immortal to be with Eros. Psyche, in Greek, means 'soul, life force, spirit.'

I show Eros my hand, to again take the self-made opportunity to poke fun at my partner having shot me. He looks at my hand, but doesn't react much. He seems blank. The oil, could he have been a clone or embodiment of Eros? The oil protects his essence from seeping out. What dimension does he exist on that he needs a body form to interact in the dream dimension? I suspect all the gods of ancient mythology, the ones of dreams, are more than mere concepts, and yet are the very energy of their respective concepts. A god of love is the very energy of love, thus capable of omnipresence. Imagine thousands of god beings existing as the energy of the concept they represent in the waking experience. What a difficult thing to grasp that a concept could be a living consciousness that effects . How else can ancient authors describe such a multi-dimensional concept that bends the third dimension's perception of what constitutes a conscious life force. What if a life force not enclosed in a 3D body can exist as effect, as energy waves. Eros' arrow producing love is an effect of his touch. What then is the supreme one god composed of. Is s/he/it life itself from which we all are an expression of? My interaction with Eros stuck out to me because I know it was not human to human interaction.

Someone else came up to me the same way Eros had. He was fully clothed, but sported an unashamed boner against my backside that sparked my sexual desire much greater than I figured Eros would have. Who was this other person? He was shorter than Eros. He did speak. It was a way to control me. This tactic has been used before in my dream state. I melt against them with desire so they can move me. Happened twice in this dream, too, but not sure how since he only ever followed after Eros, and Eros was only against me once. Thinking about the whole sequence again and again makes it grow more confusing. Pieces don't add up. Like my partner who fired the gun, may not have been my partner. I was playing him to shoot his target, but then I moved his target out of the way as he shot (getting my hand instead). Yet he was remorseful and I spoke to him as though I knew him, like it was planned. Target wasn't eliminated. Doesn't add up.

Next sequence, I am among a group of different ages of members of an order that I am studying with. I'm mostly playing. Setting is the playground of my old elementary school, modified with a couple tables and occupied by this group of people dressed in odd clothing, maybe ancient Chinese garb (studied with an Indian family a few dreams ago, which I didn't report)? No other kids in sight. I am humming and playing as a child would compared to my host family, who are busily discussing and arguing matters I am not paying attention to. I am doing magic, and move to a different table for a different activity. This one is opening a can by imitating a can opener with my hands and imagining I am holding an opener and imposing the same effects on the can as if the opener were really there. A spark of light would happen on the can as result of the imposing force of my thought. The noise around me stops, and I notice the family is staring at me. They have not seen magic of my nature in many generations. I look at them like I've been caught, wondering what their response will be. An elder, small fat man in a pointed red cap says "You know you might as well carry on since you've already started." He was saying 'show us more now that we realize what you are doing.' So I continue. I finish opening the can, then pull the beans up into the air with nothing but the motions of my hands and pleasing thought. I drop them down into the can again, humming the whole time. I look back to the family. They are staring in disbelief.

The formula to perform this magic is joy, imagination, and belief. Now that we have the maturity of knowledge and experience of being an adult, our next step is to return our state of mind to that of a child. Each day I move closer to believing and then producing this same magic in our world. I know I do not still understand the nature of this power, though I believe it is accessing a collective light source from which imagination and consciousness are closely tied to.

Update: Mormons perform blessings on those who ask by pouring small amount of olive oil on head and laying hands as medium for transferring the healing energy/spirit. Eros covered in oil indicative of a blessed being? 

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