I spend time in clubs. Dancing was probably my first religion.
The music, electronica. House, trance, techno. Know it? Ever hear it, really? All those instruments. Each instrument a different level. All those rhythms, in and among those levels. All those time frames. Interwoven. Progressing. Converging. Climaxing. The dance. Being thrown in real time, both concentrating and relaxing, full body-mind-soul... at all these different levels. How we danced, those days, in Beijing? What we learned and taught. It was palpable.
What the dance, this attention, does to one's consciousness ... to one's presence ... in real time. What one does TO time, being thus.
#1 In a club, high, in alcove, near VIP suites. A black guy passes, on the way in. I know him, this me. He is Young's crew. Drug lord. I greet him. He looks at me, dream me, strangely, angrily ... like I'm a bit crazy. Just then, a lady cop comes up. Gently, no confrontation. Perhaps I'm a bit out of hand. Someone says, "they're the _real_ cops." "Great!" "Wonderful!" I say. "Which way is Mecca?" down on my knees, I go.
#2 A house party. A seaside city, familiar from other dreams. Driving up in a taxi. Upstairs, spinning. Not so well. I put on something to dissonant, don't mix it well. Embarrased. Vivid views of the controls. Buttons and nobs are ... not familiar, to equipment on this earth.
# 3 A small cafe' or diner. A performer, doing his thing, strumming guitar and singing. Elvis? Eh. Something like that. Feels like a command performance. Playing for some old farts, sitting in a booth, bobbing their heads lamely to the otherwise pretty swinging beat. I look at the old fart, and he gives me a nasty look.
#4 A performance space, like a mall, with different rooms for different styles of music, off to the sides. Hip Hop room is jumping. Up ahead, rock & roll is somewhat less well attended. But the performance is awesome. Next scene, I am with the lead, almost like interviewing him. He is NuBreed. Not simply human. A bit hairy, on his face. Wolfensohn Crew? He has been castrated, maybe... shows his square valve patch, in his crotch.
#5 After busy night moving around these buildings, exploring, getting lost, I go up to terrace. Again, a city not of this earth. They all are, usually. A nice party going on there. Good people. Untouchables. Good to be there. Much to convey.
#6 Sometimes, I get pure computer interfaces. I am in the camera's eye, see the scene as through a lense, one step removed. I hear curious playful music as my view goes inside the front of a city bus, driven by Chinese girl. In there, a type of person, entity, I've come to know. A multiple, either time- or space-wise. Maybe just very old. Wrinkled skin. Big nose. Blonde. Caucasian.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Flying and Floating, Unassisted
Low gravity dreams.
Low-G worlds. A new phenomenon, there. I port to people learning ... how to fly.
Flying is often floating. Rarely do I fly with real power and contol. It takes practice. How do do it? Not quite by mind, but some supple form of intention. It takes time. Wanting to control it, too much, too consciously, is not so helpful.
#1 I am suspended in mid air. Rural scene. China? Asia? A plateau. Vivid yellow earth and rocks. People down there. A crowd. They, happy and jovial, laughing and joking, looking up at me, while I am in agony. Psychic, not physical. Crying? A Buddha. Some kind of Buddha. Why I am floating, flying ... is this empathy. It is painful. Same night, a city scene, night-time, similar scenario.
#2 Flying with power over desert scene, to East. I always pay attention to directions. Have a sense for this. Probably sometimes wrong. So, thinking about flying, I begin to lose altitude. An oncoming vehicle. Pickup truck? Determined to clear it, I surge ahead. Then, over the lip of a canyon. Jagged rocks over the rim. Crystalline. As I pass over, I just do it, no warning for me ... peel off my suit, blue and red, throw it down. Like a superman suit. Flacid and floppy, it lands down there. Still has the face on it?
#3 With a friend, in my room. Night time. Were we high? Maybe. "Look. I can fly!" Easy. Just flitting around, here and there. Did I also shrink, my form? Maybe. "Wow". "Cool", he says.
Information.
Gravitation.
They are related.
Science will some day discover ... how.
Dreams full of information ... portals to worlds ... realms... with different gravitation.
Low-G worlds. A new phenomenon, there. I port to people learning ... how to fly.
Flying is often floating. Rarely do I fly with real power and contol. It takes practice. How do do it? Not quite by mind, but some supple form of intention. It takes time. Wanting to control it, too much, too consciously, is not so helpful.
#1 I am suspended in mid air. Rural scene. China? Asia? A plateau. Vivid yellow earth and rocks. People down there. A crowd. They, happy and jovial, laughing and joking, looking up at me, while I am in agony. Psychic, not physical. Crying? A Buddha. Some kind of Buddha. Why I am floating, flying ... is this empathy. It is painful. Same night, a city scene, night-time, similar scenario.
#2 Flying with power over desert scene, to East. I always pay attention to directions. Have a sense for this. Probably sometimes wrong. So, thinking about flying, I begin to lose altitude. An oncoming vehicle. Pickup truck? Determined to clear it, I surge ahead. Then, over the lip of a canyon. Jagged rocks over the rim. Crystalline. As I pass over, I just do it, no warning for me ... peel off my suit, blue and red, throw it down. Like a superman suit. Flacid and floppy, it lands down there. Still has the face on it?
#3 With a friend, in my room. Night time. Were we high? Maybe. "Look. I can fly!" Easy. Just flitting around, here and there. Did I also shrink, my form? Maybe. "Wow". "Cool", he says.
Information.
Gravitation.
They are related.
Science will some day discover ... how.
Dreams full of information ... portals to worlds ... realms... with different gravitation.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Real Dreams
Are you interested in dreams? Why?
Do you dream in color, or black and white?
Do you have strange dreams that you KNOW are not JUST dreams? You know this because WHAT YOU SEE ...seems ... so ... REAL.
Your dreams are real. They are a real experience of real information, about real phenomena, and there are real reasons for, and consequences of, your seeing. Dreams are ... can be ... true gateways ... to the real universe ... that is ... the MULTIVERSE. Metaverse? I don't know. That's TBD. Depends on the metaphysics of information ... and my ethics, wisdom, expertise, honor, goodness ... I hope. I also hope that it does NOT depend too heavily on my sometimes aberrant reflexes. These things, you see, as they come, as you contemplate, can only be dealt with in real time by the cogitor.
Welcome to the High Comm! You may now have access to my Naked Mind. User be-aware!
If you see anomalously vivid and coherent, but unfamiliar: technologies, vehicles, facilities, cities / landscapes, tools, textures, colors... entities ... you should join me here. We have much to share.
If you hear anomalously precise, perhaps somewhat familiar: speech, concepts, languages, music, narratives, stories... you should join me here. I have much to teach. Much to learn.
I have never studied "lucid dreaming", beyond a few Google searches. I am not a psychologist, nor a neurologist. I am just a normal guy with a few post-quantum twists.
I have become a seer. I know why. I do not prophexy. I do not possess... what I share. I entangle it. It entangles me ... I/me/we ... you/he/she... not too complex to explain, WHAT ALL we really are ... in all truth. That, too, is why ... HOW ... we dream.
Tune in.
I will use this forum to report my dreams. I welcome you to do the same. I may only post once a week, as I have a very demanding "real" job. But, I will share my dreams. I will also share views on some theories and concepts that may explain how we come to have such "Real Dreams", and thoughts on how to responsibly adapt to, refine, and cope with this sometimes very disturbing phenomenon.
I do not have nightmares, anymore. I know better.
Let's share.
Let's see.
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