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    About Synovia

    Basic Information

    Age
    34
    About Synovia
    Biography:
    Magician, Contemporary Shaman, and Ecstatic Technician of the Sacred, as a 23-year old male residing in NJ, I have been described by my peers both an “Idea DJ” and “Stand-up Philosopher.”

    If one were to imagine Dumbledore and Snape as college buddies toking together and then realizing they were two halves of one person resembling Deadmau5, but living it out as a magician battling the Ice King in Adventure Time, one might get an idea.

    Only instead of Adventure Time, the time is now. And instead of Deadmau5 it’s that guy who shouts stuff from Linkin Park. And instead of the Ice King, it’s whoever is responsible for the Lifetime network and High Fructose Corn Syrup.

    It is these causes to which I devote my mission.

    During the day I hold a seemingly prestigious position at a large company widely responsible for bringing entertainment to all our living rooms, in which a typical day feels like a modern day rendition of Mad Men, but with ping pong tables instead of typewriters.

    However, by night, I secretly aim my efforts in developing a remedy for all the children inflicted with the threats of High Fructose Corn Syrup. Using the techniques taught by my mentors, I have worked hard to formulate a remedy.

    That remedy is Super Sprowtz. http://supersprowtz.com/

    I’m very good at magic. Weaving sound, sight, and pacing together into something that transcends the boundaries of a shiny glowing rectangle. This is the power in which I fight the forces of Lifetime and High Fructose Corn Syrup with.

    Like all of us though, I carry an unfortunate achilles heel - My insatiable appetite for spending ludicrous amounts of money on clothes and obsessing over my appearance to the point that would only be considered socially acceptable amongst the Kardashians.

    I am also infamous for sporting scars above my eyebrows which can be attributed to frequent encounters with flying glow sticks.

    You can almost always count on the fact that there will be a copy of Carl Jung’s Red Book in my backpack. It may be 12x18” and weigh over 9 pounds, but it holds all the answers to overcoming the tyrannies of Lifetime and HFCS.

    That and the works of Alan Watts, Aldous Huxley, Robert Anton Wilson, Ray Kurzweil, and Michael Pollan - I believe hold some sort of meaning.


    I have travelled far and wide in search of that meaning, and thankfully due to today’s technology, mostly without having to leave the couch. Darren Aronofsky’s “The Fountain” and the historical documentary series, “Lost” have each pulled me through time.

    During my travels I came across the psychedelic musical entity, Shpongle and we’ve had a wonderful relationship ever since. Shpongle has proven to be a tremendous help in my journey and I have shown loving support to his endeavors for several years as well.

    Oddly, dubstep also seems to have a positive effect on my powers. Except for the occasional instance it nearly causes me to crash a motor vehicle.

    I used to ruminate a lot over how my mother could order diet coke at McDonalds and get low-fat whipped cream at the grocery store, yet the weight still seemed to keep piling on. This at one time posed a great mystery.

    I stayed awake many nights trying to solve this mystery until I came across The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Here I found an answer:

    High Fructose Corn Syrup.

    Now I devote my thought to conquering this atrocity in the modern world.


    That and cats cuz they’re fluffy… No, not conquering cats. Thinking about them.

    The weekends bring me many places like an intrepid mountaineer, traveling over the peaks and mists, to discover something new.

    Last weekend proved to be a vital addition to the story. From Menlo Park mall to Bayonne to Jersey City to Queens and back to Flanders - temptations were had, tears were shed, and people danced under the moonlight.

    I met new people, removed the seat-belts of consciousness and let the imagination marry technology, frying up ideas like hot waffles. All bringing me and the people I’ve come to love, one step closer to being okay with the fact that life is a box of chocolates that forever remains… unopened.

    Once in a while I also write the occasional romance novella.


    A secret not many people know is that I have watched Lifetime’s heartbreakingly original, low budget, D-list actor movies about real teen issues TWICE.

    Wait no, a lot, actually.

    If you like cats, think it is quite possible that there is an omnipresent God-like cat being ruling over the universe, or think the wrappers on straws are by far the most entertaining things in restaurants then we will most certainly have a good conversation.

    However, if you like The Bible, Capitalism, sports, talking about your son’s soccer game, or Nietzsche’s “Thus Spoke Zarathustra”…

    We will have an even better conversation.

    If you know who is responsible for the Lifetime network or High Fructose Corn Syrup you must contact me immediately.
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    Recent Entries

    Voices in the Darkness

    by Synovia on 02-05-2013 at 06:16 PM
    I wrestle with my scattered mind as I lay beneath the covers, ruminating over the prospects of future possibilities. The calm light of sleep appears to be far over the horizon with no chance of rising at any time soon.

    Why does this always happen when I have work in the morning?

    Voices. Whispering. To my right, over in the corner.

    Wtf?

    To my right there is a group of people, standing over me in the darkness. They walk around my bedroom examining its surroundings.

    "This looks good"
    "I'm not sure I like the windows"
    "Why is the mattress on the floor?"

    A group of elderly people discuss the room with one another as I lay in the bed.

    "Excuse me? What the hell are you doing in my room? It's six in the morning."

    "We're here for the open house, honey," an elderly woman informs me.

    "What open house? We're not selling the house. Get the fuck out of my room."

    They ignore my resilience and continue to examine my surroundings.

    Something isn't right. This is beyond anything normal, and these people are oddly short. Very short...

    It's hard to make out their faces in the shadows. I make several attempts to catch a glance, but each time they deliberately avoid my gaze. There is something inhuman about this.

    "You guys aren't doing a very good job of hiding your identities. You're aliens, aren't you?"

    They share a patronizing laugh amongst themselves, as if mocking my inferior human knowledge. One of the old women climbs into bed with me. This is fucked up.

    "You see, honey, we are here for the house. However, we have to take care of a few things first."

    "When did I ever give you permission to come into my house? Get the hell out of here."

    She smiles and then they are gone. I am awake. I think. There is a lingering presence in the room. I look toward my doorway. A faint white cloud. I can almost make it out. It darts over me.

    The fuck.

    I grab my phone and shine the light at it. Nothing. The presence is gone.

    Man, I wish I did more drugs. Then at least I wouldn't have to blame the Twilight Zone for this kind of shit.

    Updated 02-05-2013 at 06:34 PM by Synovia

    Categories
    non-lucid , false awakening

    The Wanderer's Awakening - Pt 1

    by Synovia on 02-05-2013 at 03:48 AM
    I let out an exhalation as my feet rise and fall on the hot sand. Its warmth ascends through my body as a light breeze glides across my skin, offering a relief from the hot sun in the clear sky overhead. The dunes of a vast white desert stretch out before me miles in every direction. I am alone. No one but me and the endless sand and dust in the wind.

    A figure shows itself in the distance. A man? Standing out there on the dunes. His long robes flow in the wind as he stares, as if waiting for me to continue on with him. It could be nothing but a mirage, but he's there. Standing. Waiting.

    To my left - sand. To my right - sand. I must follow this elusive stranger.

    I attempt to quicken my pace, but my legs are slow and heavy. The sand grows deeper. Each step I take sinks down into the dunes beneath my feet. The weight of the sack over my shoulder slows my pace. Regardless of how close I seem to get, the mysterious stranger always seems to be half a mile ahead, each moment disappearing over another dune. My instinct to catch up to the him is strong, yet my skepticism comes forth. Is this a mystic or is this a trickster? An illusion or a real being? The tricksters encountered in the past have been many, drawing me into the depths of their schemes. Lured in by my curiosity and their promises of higher knowledge, only to find myself caught within their web of lies. Chained and held prisoner within a cave of endless illusory pleasures, staring at the shadows of the puppeteer behind me. Captivated with no choice of control and no freedom of thought as my neurological hardware finds itself hacked and rewired by a malevolent existential programmer. Food for the carnivorous fish in the deep sea of a predatorial universe starving for vital conscious energy.

    However, this doesn't feel that way. I have a choice in the matter. I feel the ability to turn back at any moment. My heart tells me to continue on, that this is the way, and so I follow.

    My legs are heavy and my breathing is slow in the thick desert air. Hours seem to pass by with a lost sense of time melting away into the sun as it beats down on my bare shoulders. As the seconds, minutes, or hours pass, however, I make it over the top of the tallest dune.

    Below me is a vast canyon, spanning far to my left and right. The distance to its bottom looks staggering. Jagged rocks. Darkness. On the other side of the canyon resides a lush jungle. The sound of waterfalls and birds singing in the trees graces my ears. I know I have never been to this forest before, but something feels familiar and welcoming. Across the canyon stands the mysterious robed stranger. I look down, but see no way of crossing to the other side. He stares into my eyes, his gaze penetrating my soul. In those eyes I see my own. The deep blue. The white hair. This is so familiar. Something profoundly deep and eternal resides between us.

    I look down at my hands and notice the white paws and fur covering my skin. This is me. He is me. That is who I am. As the realization hits me, a bridge forms. Frail and held together by nothing but some twine and a few boards, but there nonetheless.

    I can't make it with this bag, however. If I lose it though, I lose the only sense of identity I have. I lose my past. I lose myself. Many times before have beings nearly tricked me into leaving my past behind. Tricked me into forgetting my name. The name of my family and ancestors. It binds us to ourselves. If we forget our name we forget what it means to be a human. So quick are we to give up our identities for the sake of achieving fame, recognition, or making a quick buck. Is it worth it though? Is this mysterious forest worth the risk?

    Behind me lies the white desert, in front of me the lush mysterious jungle.

    I don't have a choice. I must go. I drop the bag I'm holding and make my way slowly, but surely across the bridge. I feel lighter, I feel free. The bridge sways beneath my four paws and I attentively place each one, careful not to crack a single one of the boards. One misstep and I'll go cascading into the rocky chasm below. The boards creek with each step and the breeze blows against the fur of my ankles. One step. Two. Three. Four. I will make it across. There is no turning back.

    I glance behind me to realize I'm halfway across. A surge of accomplishment and positive anticipation wells up through my veins. With the sense of achievement comes a spiral of light from every direction. Bursts of fire surround me. The bridge. It's transformed. Pure glass. Not a thin glass, however. Strong. Sturdy. Unbreakable. I look into the crystal flooring to see my reflection. I am older, no longer a young cub, and my mane has begun to grow. With each step I feel myself grow closer to wisdom.

    As I step off the bridge I make my way over to the stranger in robes. He stands tall. A white lion. A wise sage, eyes filled with the wisdom of the ancients. His velvet robes embroidered in blue, black, green, and yellow designs. Natural and flowing, psychedelic, but not overwhelming. He stares into my eyes and with his gaze I know this spirit has been with me a long time. That he has been following me throughout my daily life, his silent words speaking to me through every experience, guiding me along the winding rivers. I know now this being is within me. My higher self. My future. My most true form.

    We walk through a path in the forest and life permeates the air, spirits in every direction. When I close my eyes I feel the mother of our world, a great serpent. Wise and powerful, stern but loving. Her gaze is piercing. Right to the depths of my being. I know this is not my territory, but it is her territory. She offers it to us. She shares it, the comfort of her love pervading our every thought.

    The jungle air is moist against my skin, the trees are tall, and the scent of flowers and flowing water is refreshing as it courses through my body. As we turn a corner in the path, a beautiful sanctuary reveals itself beyond the leaves of the forest. Mountains, hot springs, waterfalls, and lush foliage surround my companion and me. Within its center resides a pristine lake. Water so clear one can see all the way to the bottom, circular stones covering its floor. So white and round they could almost be eyes gazing up from the primordial depths of the Earth. The trees are the most pure green I've ever laid eyes upon. This is paradise.

    My guide turns to me and smiles.

    "Are you ready to find your destiny?"

    And with that we walk off into the mesmerizing sanctuary before us, transfixed by the mysteries that await.

    Updated 02-05-2013 at 03:50 PM by Synovia

    Categories
    non-lucid , memorable

    The Wheel of Time

    by Synovia on 02-04-2013 at 11:39 PM
    I catch glimpses of the faces of those around me as I move through the hallways. Sadness, happiness, apathy. Mostly indifference. The faces of those simply cycling through the motions of life. No soul, no purpose. Am I any different?

    Out the corner of my eye I catch sight of a face. That girl. I know her. But from where? The face is uncanny. Green glasses, strawberry blonde hair. Who is this?

    She looks at me. A smile.

    The motions of life continue. Hours go by. I move through these hallways unaware of where they lead. One of the crowd. Destinationless. Faceless. Then I see her again.

    In that moment we remember everything. The life we've known each other, the memories we've shared. The lives we've descended on through the wheel of time. The cycle of Samsara experienced over and over and over again. Tears flow from our eyes.

    "How could I ever forget you?" she says.

    Reality sheds its skin before our eyes and we gaze upon the vast and beautiful jungle before us. The immense garden of beauty, one only to be found within the collective dreams of all mankind. We dangle from the branches of trees. Two serpents. Entwined in an act of ethereal love, one with the phantasmagorical sights surrounding us. My rich blue body glide across the deep purple scales of hers to produce a radiant swirl of colorful energy, spiraling outward from the center of our entanglement. Our bond is electrifying.

    This is life. This is truth. This is where we are and always have been. This is real.

    ______

    I awake and dust of the crust from my eyes. Back in this reality.. How unfortunate. What the hell just happened? Who was that girl? I pick up my phone to text D about the dream that just occurred - a morning tradition. I speak of the girl, the snakes, the forest - the total experience.

    ".. she kind of reminded me of you, actually, but healthier and with more vitality," I tell her

    "I had strawberry blonde hair and wore green glasses back in about 2008, before my health problems. That would be amazing if that was me."

    And then it clicks. Was that her? Have we shared previous lifetimes together? The bond we share and the synchronicities we've experienced are already extraordinary on their own. Is this possible? There may never be a way to find out the truth. This life we live in is a mysterious one. This reality - is it but a single world, or is this but one of many?

    Updated 02-05-2013 at 12:05 AM by Synovia

    Categories
    non-lucid , memorable , side notes

    Between the Realms of Gods and Men - 01/09/13

    by Synovia on 01-23-2013 at 05:28 AM
    Headlights fly by as the rain patters lightly on the windows. The passing of which I've always found to bring back a sense of passing time, reminiscent of what'd I imagine it feels for the passing of stars. Our very own sun, cognizant of its own gliding through the deep expanse of outer space.

    There is a driver at the wheel, but the sky is dark and her face remains in shadow. An accompanying sense of familiarity falls over me though. Only one could bring this sense of comfort. Mel. My eyes dart to the left and right, looking for anything out of the ordinary that might be in the sky. An age old habit. One acquired by watching far too much of Star Trek and the X-Files in my youth. Or does it predate that? Does it have some basis in the actual collective memory reality of our species? Perhaps there is a reason we look to the skies. Something deeply embedded within our collective unconscious, the return of the holy feathered serpent of our world's mythologies. Quetzalquoatl, Nehebkau, or perhaps the Chimeras depicted on the hieroglyphs of ancient cities.

    Then I spot it. A streak in the sky. Gliding like a banner in the wind, rippling up and down like a wave. A white light radiates outward from its body, lighting up the night sky in the distance. That is it. The feathered serpent. A radiant white chinese dragon, even more beautiful in real life than portrayed in their artwork. Natural and fluent. God-like. Truly a spiritual being beyond anything of earthly realms, but there it is right before my eyes. Does Mel see it? She doesn't seem to notice.

    "Mel, do you see that?"

    She looks to the right and seems to spot it, but no words come from her mouth. Speechless it seems.

    What is that? Another one. Wait, no. Two. Three. Four? Several of these serpent-esque beings fluttering through the sky. That one actually has wings and almost appears to be a gargoyle. Wow, amazing. Something attracts my gaze on the left. Holy mother fucker. What the FUCK is THAT?

    A gargantuan entity emerges from the woods on the left side of the highway. Enormous, unearthly, a beetle like being of epic proportions. Its eyes burn with fire. This isn't a threatening being, however. Merely powerful, wise, ancient. It remains still, hovering over the road, observing the surroundings. Is it even living? It could almost be the entrance or the stone guardian of a holy temple - a gateway into the underworld. Into the world beyond the scope of human comprehension, veiled to us by our rigid intellect and desires for power.

    I am entering the realm of the Gods.

    Or at least some hidden plane. Beings surround our vehicle. Is there even anyone else on the road? Discs fly through the air. My god, these again. Classic saucer UFOs? Those things only appear in my dreams. Wait a sec... Duh. I'm in a dream. Wow, this is intense. Can I even get a handle on this one? There are living spirits all around me.

    The sky fills with saucers and spirits, winged serpents with their white light fill the sky. These could have even been interpreted as angels in some cultures. From the distance the resemblance to chinese dragons and angels is hardly distinguishable. Regardless, their power can be felt from miles away, even as they sore high above the Earth. Such an alien power, impossible to say whether as to its benevolent or not. It is just so foreign to our own sense of self.

    You're losing track of things, M. This is a dream. Remember not to be drawn in to its splendor. The distraction of your mind's own creative power. This is a dream.

    Then why can't I control anything? The usual techniques are not working. No power of flight, no time/space manipulation or ability to alter the entire emotional feel of the setting. This is strange. Is it a dream..?

    Wait, that's Mel's brother. I'm in her house. Was I sleep walking? Kid looks like he's about to puke. Either that or he's just really stoned. Neither would be uncommon for him. Hmm, my vision is blurry. I must have taken out my contacts. Definitely sleep walking.

    "You okay, DJ?"

    "Hah, man. You're totally fucked."

    What could that mean? He points at the floor beneath my feet. I stepped in something. A puddle. Okay? DJ holds up a small vile.

    "No fucking way. Did you spill that on the floor, dude?"

    He starts laughing. You've got to be kidding me. I've been dosed completely by accident. Jesus Christ, how often does this have to happen to me? That is far too much acid in one spot for a safe trip. In no time I'll be going ape shit. God fucking damn this kid. Oh well, there is no stopping it now. I might as well accept what's about to ensue.

    Everything is warped. Waving. The walls are alive. "Throbbing with energy" as Terence McKenna says. It has begun. The onset is surprisingly slow. The buzzing rises through my ears, disintegrating my surroundings. I feel the sun. I feel another environment. Where is this? I know this place, I have been before. Though I am accustomed to its flavor, the taste of deja vu is beyond uncanny. Is this still Mel's house? Is this reality? Was it ever? Don't forget, the questions don't matter. Illusions, merely fabricated by our minds to prolong the discovery of truth. There is no stopping this though. I have been thrown into the pool, regardless of my preparation to swim. Entheogens don't hesitate. This is all or nothing and now the walls are coming down. Light begins to seep through the cracks. The environment shifts. A wall to my right now. I am lying down. Windows to my left.

    Is this.. my bedroom?

    I have re-emerged, back into the so-called "real" world. The collective memory reality. The ingestion of a psychedelic substance within my dream consciousness transitioned me back into waking consciousness. No matter how many times I have experienced that it will never cease to prove fascinating. The human brain truly is a receiver, capable of tuning into a multitude of channels across the cosmic radio. Switch one neural receptor on, another off, and you're broadcasting at an entirely new frequency. Receiving, broadcasting, the difference is the same. Both a generator and receiver of consciousness, filtering the endless waves of quantum energy through the intricate networks of evolutionary design.

    Is this reality any more real than the one I was just experiencing? I noticed no gaps between my perception. It was but a continuous flow. Sleeping into waking. What is different? What was ever different? Is the reality tunnel we send our gaze through any less relevant there than it is here? When all is said and done, life is just a memory after all. An ephemeral thought. A dream.

    Updated 01-23-2013 at 06:13 AM by Synovia

    Categories
    non-lucid , memorable , lucid

    Toward the Setting Sun

    by Synovia on 01-22-2013 at 11:46 PM
    "I'm so glad you are here"

    My dear friend gives me a warm hug. I can feel the gratitude pouring out from her heart. She's gone through a great deal of pain in these recent times. I'm surprised to be here though. Where exactly am I? Oh right, we just moved to Ohio. We're staying with her parents until we manage to find an apartment. Right?

    This doesn't quite look like Ohio. Does Ohio have mountains? I have the vague feeling I've been here before. Utah? But this isn't Utah. Why would I be in Utah?

    "Where exactly am I, D?"

    "This is Ohio, M. Don't you remember?"

    "Oh right."

    "We have to go"

    We climb into my truck. At least I think it's my truck. Well I have the keys, so it must be mine.

    The path into the woods is wide and long. The trees are tall and winding like vines. Spaces are carved out within their canopies as if designed to be the living quarters of some archaic entity within the forest. I even catch a glimpse of what seems to be a bed. Hmm. The trees are ancient. Their spirits permeate the air. The presence of the Gods of antiquity flows through my body sending a slight chill down the back of my spine. One could almost say the trees carry faces. That of laughter. That of sadness. Sadness for their lost brethren in the Amazonian jungle.

    That one appears to have multiple beings within it crying out in anguish. Their faces and hands pushing out from the trunk as if to say "help me! Let me out!" The entrapped souls of human beings lured in by some force within the forest. The forest I travel so deep into. Am I being lured as well? Will I be trapped within one of those trees? My soul lost for eternity due to a yearning I can't subdue?

    Well it's too late now. The sky grows dark and our new home shrinks behind me as I travel deeper into the woods, the past now but a shimmer in the distance. Fading with each step I take into the setting sun beyond the mountains. What awaits me there, I don't know. What I do know is that it is too late to turn back now.

    Updated 01-22-2013 at 11:53 PM by Synovia

    Categories
    non-lucid