The Secret Life of Demons

Forest

I arrive at a location near a mountain; lots of green, many trees. I pass a few familiar people, but they're more like spirits (appearance is indifferent, but the mentality was profound). Most appear busy with their own agendas, but it's peaceful. As I move closer to camp I can see people gathering and the energy shifting. Many more of us are arriving and so I stop to observe the increased movement. I realize the reason for the arrival of my people; we're receiving visitors.

MoSh

Shred arrives, but I don't recognize that it's him in the dream. I merely stare at him as he walks past me and doesn't say anything. I call out to him, he stops walking and looks straight at me but there's no sense of recognition; he's viewing me like a stranger. I'm also staring at him, trying to figure out why he's so familiar to me. We stare for a long while at one another. I'm uncertain how this occurs but he begins ... chasing me? Not in a bad way? Not in a good way either?

I enter my camp to evade him because the energetic exchange of being chased startles me. I've been hunted in the past and that mindset he's holding reminds me of past experiences...this internal dynamic causes me to race through the encampment, through a maze of doors, without stopping. I step out to detach from the panicked body.

My perspective is following a few feet behind the fleeing body. I'm wondering what the fuck happened and I sorta get it. The energy unfolding was too similar to past memories and it triggered anxiety. Makes sense; being hunted for death sorta does that to a person. MoSh may have accidentally held that vibration without understanding the impact.

Data?

I reach the top of the encampment and watch as the body I was inhabiting tries to calm itself. The sky is beautiful up here; though I spend less time looking up and more time assessing myself. I notice I don't look like me. This body I'm using looks very tall and lean (sort of Avatar-like, but the body wasn't blue and there was no tail). I look sort of Native American, but a distorted version of it. It's pretty, but more graceful gazelle pretty than American pretty. As the panic subsides, a man approaches. I'm viewing the man as I'm still separated from my body. Personally, I'm wondering how he made it up this far and it doesn't look like the Shred, but I can't tell who it is.

The body I was inhabiting is clearly still sketchy. She moves around the space without putting her back to the man. The man approaches, stops about twenty feet away from her, and reveals something he's holding. She goes to him and they exchange a few small words. The dynamic of this man calms her (he's tall, a bit stoic, quiet, reminds me of Data due to lack of emotional excitement). The body (hers) is calm enough for me to enter it and so I do. The man and I talk for a bit about weapons.

He's asking to bring something for us to practice with and wants to know what I want to use. I think it over briefly before asking him to bring something cheap. He and I will spar, I chose archery, he agreed he would bring arrows for next time. Cheap is ideal because it's sparring and not an actual battle; also, I have my own arrows so he would be bringing the items for himself mostly. He excuses himself as he needed to leave to attend to a separate errand. I'm collecting my arrows as I'm going to spend some time up here to practice on my own; alone. We say goodbye and I watch him leave. I'm thinking of how nice he seems and I'm looking forward to our next meeting.

Death

I'm at a hospital with my dad, in my hands is a biography and collective work of an artist. The artist has recently died and the book was compiled for his death. I'm browsing through the pages looking at the various pieces of artwork. Most of it is drawn in pen, but the line work is very lovely. One picture I find quite sad--the artist is in bed, the media is black with some lines of a crisp blue. Nothing is obviously sad about the picture, only that I happen to know this was a portrait of the artist as he was lying on his deathbed. To me, it's sad as it indicates the last artwork before he died (there will be no more). I've never been partial to endings.

A nurse comes into our darkly lit room. She informs us we're going to radiology, they want a picture of his liver. I collect myself and prepare to follow them out of the room. The dream shifts.

Catch 22

I open up a connection to my mom to explain what's going on with Dad. I'm viewing her and she looks like she's in a different state (location) for some reason. I tell her we're on our way to radiology and why. Her reply:

It's funny, no one is afraid of death. Death is not something people fear. People go to the hospital not to find out they are dying, they already know they are dying. They go to the hospital to delay death. What can the hospital (medicine) truly offer? They try to offer time, but they often don't understand death enough to grant time or understanding of the process unfolding.

It's humorous to me she is teaching me about the process of dying. Her comfort level is high and I suppose she's right; the misconception is death is something to fear when in reality it is a step up from the predicament of living. Seems a bit quirky how backward things are, yet I'm still quieted by the prospect of Dad engaging the process. Perhaps I'm merely jealous he gets to go while I'm stuck dealing with the bullshit of living. Not that I idolize death; but death (abandonment of the physical body) makes everything I do more efficient. Hence, my work is slower with a physical self and this annoys me. Though, if dead I wouldn't be able to share my research so it's a hilariously cruel Catch 22 for me.

Train Platform (nl/ld)

I'm hovering as I'm searching for something I'm not well aware. The dream in front of me, which I've stuck my head into, reveals a train platform. I observe a man and woman step out onto the platform from out of nowhere (they looked like they entered via invisible door). The pair are rushing, a man already on the platform looks as though he's expecting the pair. He stops them though and gestures to the water. I see that he's telling them they can't go this way. The man appears frustrated and rushed, holding onto the woman while assessing the water as though he's considerating a creative option. I'm now gazing at the water too which is entirely flooding the earth and is about to rise to cover the platform. Not much time left, they better get off that...

The couple exits in the same manner they arrived.

Stealing from a Baby (nl)

I'm somewhere, still searching for something. This time I'm less searching and more exploring. While doing this I get hungry and some black woman has a car, with a cooler, and delicious snacks inside. I see her retrieve something for herself and I invite myself to her stash of edibles. She's selfishly generous and while she grants me access, I can tell she's unhappy about sharing. What she fails to realize is that I don't give a fuck what she thinks. I continue my exploration as I enjoy a banana yogurt combination thing. I reach a bridge, with that cup of heaven in hand, but begin waking before I can get a foot onto it.

Notes

For whatever unknown reason the train platform reminded me of Shred, Asuka, and Data--not that I'm very educated on any of them, it just felt like them.

Trying to Locate Man of Shred (ld)

It's a long way from where I am to where I need to find him. Worth the travel, if I can ever find him. The dreamscape is vast and the circles my mind has chosen to reside in (out of necessity) make travel inefficient. A father figure leads me through the country. He takes me through a field of tall grass which is clearly a road, but without cement. We enter a village area, the houses are smaller, about the size of single room lofts. Now I'm walking along the sidewalk and viewing the homes in the area as I pass them. The sunlight is softly fading through the windowpanes; the visual is quite lovely. Most of the homes are empty, but some have potted plants along the windowsill (inside). The town is quiet and deserted. I'm pondering the reasons for the emptiness and why we're taking our time to move through the town. I have no conclusion for why we've lingered.

Home (nld & ld)

I've traveled home, without that father figure. I'm tying up loose ends and am on my way out from the dream. Right before I leave, the house beside mine produces a tone I recognize. I step out of the car to gaze up at the window it's originating. The tone I heard was very similar to a Tibetan singing bowl. I stare at the window, gaining some degree of lucidity, but the person is hiding. I think of Shred but I realize that it might be best to not proceed inward. He is calling for my attention with the tone, but there's no attempt for him to leave the house. Also, I'm on my way to the airport so there isn't enough time for me to knock on his door (I was seconds away from waking). I'll have to come back later.

Notes

I feel as though I did find him (my spirit). Sadly, my recall has been neglected as I focused attention on restoration instead of exploration. I'm hoping to flip this now that I'm feeling restored to a greater degree.