Dec 29, 2013

Alternate Realities

Having dreams featuring people in my life are fairly common, as they are for any dreamer. But then having a subsequent dream with a similar message the following night without people from my life really feels like its rephrasing the message for emphasis so I'll pay attention. Otherwise, I wasn't going to report the dream two nights ago. I meditated about another few pressing topics, and yet my dreaming had other plans. Occurrences like these really suggest to me that I'm in conversation with some other force not confined to my consciousness. When I try to prompt a dream before bed, interfacing with the invisible presence I believe to be my personal link (depicted in essence as my investigative partner in other dreams who exists omnipresently, capable of seeing the intricacies of happenings and motivations interconnected around me at once from a 'higher' vantage point) is the easiest way to sort out details and land on the right question to ask that accurately represents what I want to know. You see, the challenge of call-response dreaming is projecting the right desire to know something. It seems if I ask something not entirely accurate to what I need to know, the response will seem confusing or off-topic. In some of these instances where the dream didn't seem to relate to the topics of consideration I tried to prompt that night with, I have to assume its either because some other signal was stronger, or it is in answer to the question but as background prerequisite ideas before I can understand the true answer to my question. I have learned to accept that some truths are difficult to swallow, comprehend with our limited range of perception and experience, and even dangerous. We're still fishing around in the dark, trying to shine light to reveal the truth. Humans seek truth in a variety of ways. I'm particularly curious as to what extent dreaming is an outlet for unveiling truths. What is available in dreaming? Presumably anything, but there are barriers to overcome, obstacles both from internal sources and from other consciousnesses. And the dream scape is still a reflection of the physical realm. So information readily available to public knowledge is easy for me to channel, information protected by a small group is more difficult, but I might be able to see that a small group is hiding the information I seek or is manipulating the knowledge I seek. Most of the time though, I'm in my own way to learning things I wish to know. I have to put forth a deliberate effort in real life for that energy of investigation to code into the dreamscape.

I don't know what prompted this first dream of the two about alternate realities. Maybe it will be revealed to me as I write it out (often what happens:  the truth is in the details somehow, or by immersing in the scene where the coding lay).

Night of 27/28th 2013, Dream 1

Approaching a small canyon by vehicle in a desert environment. A familial member is dropping me off here. Across what I can only recall as a stream of quicksand, is a cave-like entrance that feels like a separation between two very distinct lands. A portal to a hidden city. I cross a bridge over the stream of quicksand. There is no one out here, it is both desert and deserted. But through the cave entrance I step into a wooded area with sky and a small trailer park community, like you would find in a forest campground, not on the outskirts of a city. The strangeness of how I walked onto this park lingered in my mind as I walked forward and tried to gain my bearings. Elements of my life started to bleed into the experience, and though I was still disoriented through the whole thing, I played along.

My son was with me. I ran into my old girlfriend whom I greatly miss, but cut ties with when I became pregnant because she didn't like my partner, the father. I still see her often in my dreams, usually questioning why we haven't reconnected and made amends. I'm usually adament to the characters who question this about my reasons, but it also yields opportunities to pretend for a moment we are back together and can enjoy the love we have for one other without the repercussions of our linear physical lives.

We run into each other at a facility dedicated to letting children play, including a playstructure that would be outside, but had the outline of still being in the facility somehow (overlapping setting). She has a daughter. Surprised I ask her how old she is. She shrinks a little and replies hesitantly "Two years."  That implied a few months after we broke she somehow became pregnant because my son is almost 3 years now. I eased her concern that I would take that defensively by saying "That's okay. I'm not going to judge you." I was too glad to just be watching our kids play together. I soon realize she's there with the third member of our old trio, Erin, who represents great sadness to me. I did not want to enter into that mess. But she approached me with an aura of a dedicated mother. She had two kids of her own and was busy engaging in their development. Whatever blame and anger she held toward me no longer had space in her mind. She was nervous how I would criticize her parenting, to which I again expressed compassion and empathy for the struggles of being a mother. [I haven't seen either of them in over 3 years, and they may very well have kids of their own, though I've strongly doubted Michelle would have decided to have one with a man or through some other option so soon after we parted, though she desperately wanted a baby when she learned she may never be able to have one because of medical reasons.]

I was so entranced with how this scene was unfolding, that I lost track of my son. Embarrassed, and concerned, I departed from my friends [weird to refer to them that way after so long believing enemy described our relationships better, though I have always loved them... strange way of showing it. But its best this way for now.], and searched outside for Link.

I came across Jim, my partner, Link's father, and the enigma before me took a strange turn. He didn't recognize me. He looked the same in his business suit. But he had two children a few years older than Link. Sadness filled my heart with the confusion of what I was immersed in. I nervously touch the boys head and ask what his name was, wondering if it was the essence of Link. The boy's hair was brown and eyes brown just like his father. My son has blonde hair blue eyes, a fact people regularly tease us about. The boy looks just like him. What does that mean? "Hey Lady, don't touch my child. Get out of here." Jim said. He didn't know me. I was some random emotional woman swooning over his youngest. I desperately look at Jim, accepting that I am in a different reality where Jim and I never met, but I still need to find my son. "Please, have you seen my son, a little boy."

Someone calls to me on a diverging path from the uphill way back toward the cave portal entrance. Jake has a hand lovingly on Link's head and sends him out to me. Jake, my friend from elementary school who killed himself. He is my partner in this reality? Link runs to me and I scoop him up. Jake runs off to play with a buddy. They are adults, but have the freedom to play like children together. I've checked in with Jake in my dreams before.

There were a few disconnected scenes within this sequence where I was moving between our cabins and the communal hall to check times for activities. I was trying to get a sense of what this community was for, why was I there. I suspected it was a training camp, like you might do for band, or girl scouts. But I couldn't determine what brought everyone here. The activities listed didn't have much interest by the younger generation. The elderly generation started the traditions and as they die, so do the traditions. I signed up to one to promote its continuation. People didn't congregate there very much anymore. So where was everyone? And what did this have to do with the alternate reality experience?

Only thing I can think of, an idea I've been testing the flavor of is that ancient traditions of belief and communication with spirits is dying. The subsequent generations labeled it all superstition. Maybe there was an intimate knowledge inlaid within those practices and ideas that we will be coming back full circle to with study into subtle energies and sub-atomic particle physics, dark energy in the universe, Heisenberg principle, all those areas I'm both emphatically curious about and told to explore.


Well, I didn't think much of this dream, in fact, I half-disregarded it because I figured the appearances of people in my life left too much room for it to be a product of unresolved feelings or memory. Of course it was, those again are what allows the mind to pick up signals, it must be tuned to receive certain frequencies and the only way I understand how to do that is by forcing experience and research; expanding my awareness.

I moved onto other intriguing ideas, like what the skeleton was found in a desert cave on the show Destination Truth (the host can be overly skeptical to the point of illogical, but remains under the guise of science, and can sometimes be disrespectful to the cultures and people he encounters, an attitude I truly disagree with. But he does investigate things I would not be aware of otherwise.)

Even before the above dream I was prompting a dream about machines achieving consciousness. Instead I got these two.

Night of 28/29th 2013, Dream 2

I'm following a dangerous man ... wait. Apparently calling him a 'man' isn't right because I just felt a very uncomfortable spike of anxiety. I had no other clear idea of what he was. So what was he? An entity? A soul? Closer. A living idea? No. Evil? Netural. Why am I willing to chase him though he doesn't want me to follow... Good question. He's my quest? Not my mission. There's a difference? He's timeless. I'm chasing him across time? My lives are aspects of following him.

Authorities are after him. He wants to hide and be left alone. I feel compassion for him, concern and dedication to helping him so much so that I am willing to surrender myself to him as a slave and follower. But he represents the essence of man's darkest traits. My state of mind is that of submissive. I follow him into an abandoned broken house with an impossible number of stories, maybe ten. It could collapse, but I am dedicated to walking into the danger beside him, so he knows he is not alone, even if he refuses to accept my company. There is something incredibly important to this scene. He finds an alcove in the ceiling on the eighth floor to hide in. I ask to climb in with him, explaining that I will give away his position if he does not hide me as well. Annoyed, he concedes and pulls me up into the tight space. We wait until we sense his trackers move away from the house that sits on the edge of a bridge over a freeway. A fence barricades the dropoff of this house's property of overgrown grass from the fall onto traffic.

Does he expect to live here indefinitely? I wonder. How will he get food without being seen? He says there's enough stored food from the previous inhabitants to last a time. I know it won't last long, but I grant him the comfort of the moment in believing he is safe for now and can survive just fine here. "You did well." He tells me with approval. I didn't squeal and give away our position, even though I was spawned from the side the authorities are on. I chose to face his trials beside him. My only hope in doing so was to soften his soul. I believed my servitude and company would do so in time. I felt very young, like a sweet girl of 14 in body.

His approach to me changes. He pulls me down to fall into a mounting position over top him. He was ready to accept and take advantage of my servitude. Though I felt fear for a moment, I agreed, fulfilling my promise to be his companion, and whatever that entailed for him. Our faces shifted. Time sped up in the physical sense. Still in the same spot on the floor, we found ourselves growing fond of one another. We learned to love each other. Our faces were wrinkled, and gray set in heavily while we had sex. I felt natural death of age was upon us soon. He expressed gratitude for having stayed with him all these years. I was sad we would die soon. We kissed and relaxed into our good-byes.

Scene change. I'm young again, and disoriented from the scene change, but move along with it. I live on a plantation before there were modern conveniences. I attend school. One of the boys in my class lets slip through someone that he is terminally ill. I had no particular interest in this boy. I walk by on my way out and notice him sitting in an open room. I make a choice right there that changes the course of my life. I choose to sit beside him in his dying time when every other person our age avoids him. "I heard you are ill." He actively tries to hide his illness. His face is kind, and he has a handsome demeanor. I speak forthright with him, show him understanding without trying to impose personal experience of his situation. He appreciates talking to someone honestly about his condition and being able to feel like his age with me, despite his limitations. He tires easily. I clean an old bed as best I can. He lays in bed and wants me to stay beside him. I am angry at the limitations of our medicine and ability to make him more comfortable. I sit in a chair by his bed and watch him fade. I have to go to school I tell him, as I tuck him in to rest. "You have to rest." I demand. He always pushes himself to match the activity level of the rest of us. This means he misses school today, but he'll accelerate his illness if he keeps pushing. He tells me a secret, that he was so thankful the day I talked to him because he liked me from afar and wished to know me. I made his wish come true. I didn't like him the same way at first. It was not why I chose to talk to him, somehow that made it more sacrificial. I saw someone who would benefit from my company and chose the hard route of talking to him instead of walking by and out the door to join the rest of the class in play.

He whispers loving words about our time together until sleep overtakes him. I sigh and tuck his scratchy mud green blanket in around his shoulders. My family teases me about us being lovers, and praises me for doing this for him. I wonder if all my time beside him has led me to loving him in return. We share many moments of love from then on. I fall completely for him, defend him against the snide remarks of our schoolmates when he is out sick. We laugh in bed together. I give myself to him. I never want our love to end.

Scene changes. Modern times, I'm on a bus to a new house for entrance into school. My disabled love is with me, but distant. I resist, but eventually acknowledge he is growing annoyed of me. He no longer needs me. I will have to move into this house alone. I say a defeated good-bye, coded with the impression that if he wants me in his life still he will need to say so, otherwise I am going to salvage a life for myself. We had already started moving furniture in. I walk off the bus a few yards toward my house before someone calls after me. I forgot Link on the bus. I run up to the door to see him crying and crawling across the floor to follow my trail out the door. I pick him up and comfort him, though I am scared what our lives will be from here, as we leave my old love on the bus.

Inside the house, the graduating tenants are clearing out their stuff for us to live in the space. But their moving out only makes it feel more empty after the uncertainty of losing my partner. I watch them clear out their stuff. They celebrate in a circle their graduation and movement onto a new life, a mocking contrast to how I'm entering into the community. It's not a school I'm new to, its more like moving to a new city after college, but it still had the feel that the group moving out just graduated a college level type of experience. Perhaps I've moved on to now living on my own in the spirit realm without organized lessons?


From old dreams, the image of the old rickety house may represent the physical world. Who this essence is that keeps reincarnating may be a soul cast into the physical world or tries to hide in the physical world. This imagery underpins the core of all the scenarios I've role-play channeled since my early adolescence. I'm not about to assume which came first the chick or the egg, the soul purpose or the role-play scenarios, but it does accurately depict an idea I've struggled to make clear in my own thoughts. Darian, my personal link to the Great Spirit he claims to be an aspect of, is like an intimate deity, wise and compassionate, challenging and comforting, my personal relationship. But there was always a darkness which I explored first before knowing his wise, omnipresence. This is going to sound crazy, but screw doubt, this is my outlet. Every human is responsible for tending to a dark presence that out of compassion and care was paired with a companion spirit. Together they make one, a human, that was cast into a physical realm to muddle out its disconnection from the network consciousness. We chose to be here by wanting independence, or at least one part of us did. It was banished. Our choices can be evil or good, this being is not either, though it will seem to reside more in darkness. It is capable of change as any other living entity. We can choose to ignore it, leave it grumbling in preference of its loneliness, or take the challenge of interaction with it, knowing it, devoting yourself in love and submission to it with humble faith. We are also a peace treaty, a way for two different entities to coexist. When I talk to Darian, I know I talk with it as well. How I do not know. I simply know it reconnects that lonely spirit back to the greater network consciousness, and that both are one in the same.

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