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2017, 08-18

Game of Dreams - Oceans of Green

Daenerys: I am outside on a beautiful sunny day, and I am riding a beautiful horse. There is a vast valley stretched out for me. It is completely filled with green grass. The grass is waving, making it look like an ocean. There are some people with me. One of them is a knight. He is talking about the grassy valley. He says right now it’s all green, but there are times of the year when it is in bloom. He says this grass blooms with a bright red flowers. I am thinking about how beautiful that must be, when the knight goes and ruins it by comparing it to a field of blood. I give him a sideways glance, wondering why he had to make that comparison. He goes on to say there are other kinds of grass mixed in with the blood grass, and those grasses bloom in so many different colors it looks like a rainbow. He says there's a kind called ghost grass that is semitransparent, and it murderers all other grasses. I don't really care to hear about homicidal grass.

I kind of want to go off on my own for a while. I tell the knight that I would like to have a few moments alone. I tell him to have the others to stay behind for now. He says he will tell them. I ride my horse out in the grassy fields. The grass is much taller than I realized. It's almost up to my horse’s belly. I get the urge to go down into the grass. I see some color down there, some pretty flowers I want to see closer. So I climb off my horse and get down in the grass to look at the flowers. They are very pretty little blue flowers that smell very sweet. I hear birds singing in the surrounding grass. I wonder what other animals might live out there.

The peace is disturbed when I hear some loud argument from back on the top of the ridge. After the yelling which I can't quite tell what was said, I hear hoof beats. Apparently someone didn't feel like staying put. The rider appears and pulls up on the reins a bit too quickly and as for rears up and throws him off. I laugh as he lands on his ass. It is amusing. I see that the writer is my asshole brother. He's being an asshole again. He is pissed. He asks how I dare give him a command. I think he is taking this much too seriously. I just wanted to be alone for a bit. He comes over closer to me and starts being a pervert. He put his hand up under my vest, and pinches my breast. That is annoying. I push him away for me and tell him to cut that out. He falls back on his ass. He glares at me. He gets up looking angrier than ever. He says he thought we had that cleared up, that if I ever dared to oppose him again he would seriously hurt me. I tell him if he wants to try, go head and bring it on. He gets back up and starts to come at me.

I am about to give him a kick to his family jewels when he gets suddenly pulled back. I look and I see that he now has a whip wrapped around his neck. He is pulling at the whip with his hands, and having trouble breathing. There is one of the people that had been with me on the top of the ridge, he is on a horse and has his whip around my asshole brother's neck. He asked a question in a foreign language. The knight has caught up to us now, and he translates. The man with the whip is asking if he should kill my brother. I told him no, don't kill him. The knight translates. The man askes another question. The knight again translates. This time the man has asked if he should remove one of my brother’s ears to make him remember his error. I say no, don't hurt him. The knight translates. The man removes the whip from around my brother’s neck. My brother chokes and gags as he tries to catch his breath.

I look around and see that my brother's horse has wandered off. I figure that doesn't matter. He can walk back, I don’t feel like finding his horse. The other people on horses find that amusing. My brother acts like a child. He sits down on the ground and refuses to move. I tell the others that if he wants to sit there and sulk like a child, let him. I get back up on my horse, and all of us start heading back up to the top of the ridge where the rest of our huge group is. So far my asshole brother is not moving. I lose sight of him. I wonder out loud if he could get lost out there. The knight says that there's no way you can get lost. He says our group is leaving a path like a highway. I find the idea that our groups passing is causing that much distraction to be sad. I rejoin my husband on the top of the ridge and we start moving out. And then I wake up.

Morning of August 18, 2017. Friday.



I seem to be in bed with Zsuzsanna. However, our bed seems to be in the backyard of our present home with our heads oriented south (with the same left and right orientation as we are sleeping in reality). It is full daylight out. Still, there is an odd sense of bilocation of which is not defined in the usual way.

A boy of about ten years old comes into our backyard a few times from our neighbor’s backyard. He is unknown and unfamiliar, though implied to be the neighbor’s son (though this “neighbor” is also an unknown character). I display a bit of anger and aggression and he goes back each time, somehow going over the fence, though it seems somewhat like the old metal fence that was not very high. He has a somewhat condescending nature.

My awareness shifts and my dream changes orientation. Now our bed is in the Loomis Street living room, our heads west, opposite the front entrance. Once again, the boy is imposing by coming in through the front door, which may have been left open. I do not express much anger.

His father, an unknown chubby male of about thirty and with red hair, also comes in through the door as if he had been uncertain as to where his son had gotten off to. I nod and I do not express any anger at the imposition of either, almost as if their ridiculous intrusions do not matter at this point. The other man seems friendly and calm.

---

Nothing relevant to waking life (on a personal level) is to be found here; just the usual dreaming and waking symbolism, here rendered as doorway waking symbolism, though in many cases, a distorted rendering of the emergent consciousness, mixed in with dynamics of the preconscious (sometimes as a “monster”) remains within a doorway rather than viably using a door or doorway.

I can only guess that these two unknown characters were related to unconsciously perceiving (remote viewing) random unknown people in the area as I was sleeping, the boy linked into the transpersonal stream via the preconscious while his father linked to the emergent consciousness, a dynamic that has often occurred in past dreams. The fence is a clue, as a fence symbolizes a division in levels of consciousness within the dream state and of course our being in bed is simply an indicator of being in the dream state.

It has remained obvious through tens of thousands of dreams for over fifty years, that the transpersonal preconscious stream integrates found personas that are the least like the conscious self identity, for that is the only real way, excluding willing coalescence, that the dream self attains enough emotion (through aggravation, conflict, or other emotions) to come out of the dream state under many conditions. Otherwise, the “ripples” of neural energy are unlikely to increase and the dreamer would remain in the dream. Waking and waking prompts are a biological necessity, yet most of humanity does not even come close to grasping the simplest concepts concerning dreams or their purpose or meaning.

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Morning of August 18, 2017. Friday.



I become aware that I am some sort of informal prison guard, yet I also apparently live with the prisoners, though atop a mostly featureless vertically-oriented rectangular prism with only a large mattress present.

The size-orientation relating to perspective is oddly distorted, as the prisoners seem only about one-fourth the size they should be relative to distance. I do not really consider this distortion as such while in my dream.

It is apparently my job, or at least my turn, to feed the prisoners who begin to gather far below. I have a large bag of chocolate Chex cereal. I throw down the pieces in small amounts as the prisoners gather to eat with their hands (as there are no bowls or silverware visible).

Looking around, I notice a prisoner casually walking out a main door into a hall. I do not call out or say anything, though I am not fully sure of the situation. An unfamiliar female guard notices this but does not get to them in time, so I assume that the prisoner has escaped. This seems to happen again later with a different prisoner who goes through a door in another area, perpendicular to the first.

In the last scene, a couple other prisoners are somehow atop the prism near me. I seem to be ready to sleep now. I feel the other male is a bit too close to me, but I do not say anything. He does not seem a threat, but his physical presence is somewhat intrusive.

---

This seems partly based on our youngest daughter accidentally spilling part of a bowl of Coco Pops Chex cereal onto Zsuzsanna from above and behind prior to sleeping. Zsuzsanna immediately got up to have a shower and there were Coco Pops Chex pieces here and there on the way to the bathroom and in the bathroom. Still, an additional association may be because they are somewhat cushion-shaped (as a subliminal dream state indicator). There may also be some sort of connection between “prism” and “prison”, as they sound similar.

Atypically, the personified unconscious seems to be the female prison guard - which is the opposite of the preconscious (though the unconscious does not usually appear to deliberately hold a dreamer in the dream state, which seems rather strange to me other than for circadian rhythms factors). This dream seems to otherwise move towards typical doorway waking symbolism (as did another dream of this date though also atypically), except that my emergent consciousness seems to be projected from a distance (“escaping” twice) due to my direct perspective (as the personified subconscious aka dream self) already perceiving that I am in bed and lying down atop the prism. Ambiguous multiplicity has occurred a number of times before in waking symbolism.

This is certainly not the first time I have been elevated above the rest of my dream’s setting, which simply means that I am closer to waking in a rendering of liminal space (often with increased physical awareness as in this case). In this case, it is even more obvious as I am already “back in bed”.

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During the day yesterday I spoke with a girlfriend of mine about the consideration that have played on my mind in certain periods of my life of making sexual healing of women – a sort of glorified prostitution – a path in life. While the idea has remained relatively absurd to my conscious mind, the grain of seriousness has never really left my thinking.

Furthermore, I found during my self-love ritual tantric practice during the evening that my fantasies were no longer tied to Cecilie, but fluttered wide and far, though only with women. I recall that I was surprised at this, both in respect of finding a horniness for other women, but also in the release of attachment towards Cecilie as “the” sexual object of my consideration – as if I was freed from the shackles of having to commit monogamously to her to engage romantically and intimately, while also obtaining sexual favour.

My intentions were simply to remember my dreams, but I found it hard to fall asleep – which also led to a lengthy sexual practice prior to sleep.

Dream:

I am sitting on a train station. It is a small one, as you find in the country side. The weather is bright, though not scolding and there are other people on the station.

I am sat on a bench wearing a long trench coat. Underneath I am wearing clothes covering my upper body and nothing over my legs and genitals.

I am in a playful mood and as I watch out over the station across a hedge, I catch the eyes of a woman who is looking at me, smiling playfully. She knows “what is up” - which is really referring to my playful exploration of revealing my genitals, but which carries a stronger more direct meaning of explicit sexuality.

I look towards her repeatedly and she keeps returning the kinky mischievous smile.

Eventually the train rolls into the station, and after a brief evaluation if it is driving slow enough to actually stop, it does. The door opens and the woman and I get onboard. There is a slight distance so I rush slightly to make it.

Once onboard the woman asks me if I am a “blotter”, and I think I acknowledge, though it doesn’t take up much attention or time.

The woman now has turned into a composite persona consisting of Hanne – a Buddhist Lesbian – and Birgit – The owner of a toy shop I know very well from childhood.

We talk about her reasons for being on the train. She is headed out to receive attunement as part of her Buddhist ventures. On her lap she is carrying a printed text. On the cover is printed something along the wordings of “The fourth initiation, by Master so-and-so”.

I recall being surprised at this, as I thought there was only 3 levels.

I get up and button up the trench coat to make sure my dick doesn’t fall out and show by accident.

The main thing that grabbed my attention this morning was the number 4, which has been showing up in a couple of dreams recently. My initial interpretations and associations towards this was the 4 elements, the heart chackra and the wholeness of the quaternity in mandala symbolism.

I reflected on the homosexual nature – representing potentially suppressed desires or avenues of exploration, which I have carried out over the past couple of years with men, though not really fully – of one aspect of the composite persona – who in total is a woman, representing the anima or the collective unconscious – as well as the Toy Shop Owner – symbolising potentially a suppressed playful and animalistic aspect of my sexuality (I have recently spent many an hour talking about it in terms fetched from Tantra, such as divine union or simply as spiritual practice, which could represent a form of spiritual bypassing but also my desire to ejaculate in women – Cecilie in particular) though it could also point towards continuing the practice of using toys in developing my sexual skills.

My initial interpretation pointed towards a unification of my sexual nature with my Buddhist aspirations, where considerable conflict has recently taken place between sexual desires, as well as desires for family, intimate and romantic relations with the concept of renunciation of samsara to attain liberation.

What stroke me here was the sexual theme combined with the sacred scriptures combined with the symbolism of wholeness, pointing towards an active (playful and explorational) kind of integration between my sexual nature and desires with the quest for happiness and liberation. There is a particular focus on “going public” with this, represented in the “blotter” symbolism, which is greeted cheerfully by the anima, as a fruitful endeavour leading to a more enlightened place – represented by the scriptures and teachings.

Furthermore I reflected on the need to cultivate a more loving relationship – the 4th chakra, representing unconditional love - , not only to my own sexuality, but also the way in which I practice it with other people, women in particular – which now that I write it, is also represented in the recent dream of the “Bridge Elf” wearing orange and green, taking up 4 hours of journeying.

Looking through some of Jung’s work with sacred numbers in dreams and the Angel Number 4, some following additional interpretations occurred.

Jung also posits the number four as pointing towards “fourth function” - which is typically the repressed or taboo function – of thinking, sensing, feeling and intuiting. I am primarily oriented towards a thinking and intuitive disposition – making a mixture of feeling/sensing the taboo function. Feeling and sensing in this respect I see pointing both towards an acceptance of the more primal (non-spiritual and reproductive) aspects of my sexuality (represented by sensing, the physical aspects) and my desire, my right to feel, my wanting to take in a sexual context.

The Angel number 4 mentioned something around creating a solid infrastructure, focus in on an area of life where I want to hone my skills or reap rewards, or building a foundation of sorts. This has very much been a process as of late, aside from moving out and finding a new place to live (creating a solid foundation) I have also been focusing on trying to verbalise my competencies (dream analysis, shamanic practices and energy/massage work with my hands).

The immediate association here for me has to do with diving deeper into these three areas of my life. The vibe of the new place is phenomenal and now it is time – as in accordance with my priorities for the year – to focus on the stuff that can ensure a stable financial living. I have booted up the energy practices just yesterday – that also have a resemblance to the energy work of the tantric sexual practices. I spent many hours considering who I could approach to practice this work and also spoke with a friend about it.

In general I find myself elated with this dream, it is to me an encouragement in working in the direction I have been doing for some time. It is also a reminder for me to stop taking the shamanic work too serious and focus on what I really yearn to explore – sexuality – which makes me happy. It is not to neglect the hard work in store for both arranging practice with energy work, nor formulating the principles of therapy I am employing in my work with the sacred plants. I am curious to see how this theme progress – sexual exploration, continued work with stabilising the roots as a path towards wholeness and spiritual development.

2017, 08-17

Game of Dreams – Tears Falling

I am having dinner with my family. My dad and sister are there. It is a large table and there's a lot of food on it. My teacher is here. I remember her trying to teach me needlework. It was not very effective. So I'm sitting there and looking at mine, but I'm not really feeling very hungry. My sister is sitting several seats from me and she isn’t paying any attention to me. She is with her friend. I have the feeling that her friend is an asshole. My father says there's going to be a big tournament in his honor. He says he really doesn't want to have anything to do with it. It's just a big expense that the kingdom can't afford. My sister and her friend find the idea of the tournament exciting. She asks father if she will be able to go. Father considers and then says he will get both my sister and me good seats. I think it sounds stupid. I say I don't want to go. My sister says the tournament will be an amazing event, I'm not welcome there. Father is annoyed. He says he is getting sick of my sister and me fighting. He says we are sisters, and we should start acting like it. I'm angry at my sister. But for now I don't show it.

Father announces that he has no appetite, and then gets up and leaves. I look at my food, and it does not look tasty. I decide I have no appetite either. I get up. My teacher asks me where am I going. I realize that maybe I should be polite, so I politely ask if I may be excused. She says no. She tells me to clean my plate. I tell her to clean it herself. I get up to leave. As I go passed my sister, I pause to tell her off. I tell her that we both lost our wolves, but at least she knows hers back home and safe in Winterfell. My wolf is somewhere out in the wilderness and I don't know if she is dead or alive. Talking about that makes me feel like crying. I hurry from the room before my tears fall. I don't want anyone in there to see me cry. I hear my teacher behind me yelling at me to come back. I ignore her. I go running upstairs to my room. I go through the door and slam it behind me. It’s a heavy wooden door with a very satisfying to slam. There is no lock but there is a bar that I can slide down to keep the door from being opened. So I do.

Once I am safe in my room I feel safe to cry. And I do. While I am crying, someone comes up and knocks at my door. It is a hard and angry knock. And it is a not very friendly voice is speaking out there. A woman, my teacher, tells me to come out there in mediately. She says if I don’t come out immediately my lord father will hear about this. I don't care. I tell her to go ahead and tell him whatever she wants. She goes away. I open my clothing chest, and dig through it until I find a sward buried on the bottom. I think the sword out, I remember it is named Needle, and I start practicing with it. I am shit. I am in the middle of practicing with it but I am thinking about other things. I briefly considered going out the window and running away. Maybe I can find my wolf in the wild. I am thinking about that when there is a knock at the door. This time it is a gentler knock. And it is also a gentle voice that speaks. It is my father. He does not sound angry, he just sounds sad. That makes me feel kind of bad about my behavior. Anger I can handle, but disappointment not so much. He says he wants to come in. I raise the bar blocking the door, and open it. He comes in.

My father sees the sword in my hand. I had even thought to try to hide it before he came in. Yes it's me who's short is that, and I just see at night. He asked where I got it, but I don't want to rack out my brother so I say nothing. He says it doesn't really matter. He takes it and is looking at it. I have the feeling I'll never get it back. He wants to talk about things that of been happening lately. He says he doesn't like it when my sister and I are fighting. I tell him I don't really want to fight with her, but then I trail off. We talk about different things and I am close to tears again. And then it just all comes out, I don't even know what I'm about say untill I say it. I am crying as I tell my father that I had to throw rocks at my wolf to make her leave because I knew if she came back with me, they would have killed. The queen and the king. And I couldn't stand the idea of seeing that. I told her to leave and when she wouldn't leave I threw rocks at her. There be plenty of wild game out there for her to eat, and I do even heard other wolves out there, so she might even find a pack. My father seems to agree with my theory that she'll be OK out there. He says she was born to be in the wild, and she will surely adapt to it quickly. And she will certainly be the leader of any pack she joins. I am in my father’s arms still crying but it's stopping. My father asks me about the sword again. He asked if I really want to learn. He says I've got a wild streak, like a lot of others in our family. He says he will ask around and see about someone to train me. And then he hands the sword back to me. That comes as a surprise. He hugs me before leaving the room. And then I wake up.