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Monthly Archives: July 2009

I will post, just for posterity’s sake, the measly bits of two dreams that I managed to remember during the past million days or so.

One dream’s notes were too scarce for me to be able to use to jog the memories back into circulation, so all I have are meaningless facts about that dream’s world and/or setting.  I remember that the world was ruled by seven gods; one of their names was Cairn and the other, Prometheus (a fan-favourite, a guest appearance!); I can’t remember now what else happened.

These are the notes of another dream:

Fighting, fields, great monsters, camp-able,
Great long courtyard, tables, everyone arranged at the tables in teams or groups to eat or talk, open air
Deep caverns

I would add to that, but I can’t.

Last night, the girlfriend and I paid a visit to our mostly-unfriendly,-at-least-a-little-aloof-neighbuorhood Urban Shaman.  We’ve secured a couple of packets of Morning Glory (Heavenly Blue) seeds as well as a packet of powdered Kratom.  I inquired about a certain “dream herb” that I had recently learned the name of, because of course, I’ve been trying in earnest to get this little blog venture rolling strong.  A “dream herb” is something that Chontal medicine men, Oaxaca aboriginals, call “leaf of the god”, and they use it as an aid in remembering their dreams (achieving visions, perceiving voices of the gods/spirits).  Calea is the name of the plant that I would make a nightly tea from, for 24 nights (the amount per package that you may purchase) and I suppose could expect some good, healthy lucid dreaming as my reward for diligence.

I’m seriously considering – no, I’ve already decided to – buying some of it.  It’s at least scientifically proven to be safe and effective, it’s natural and it’s cheap ($12.50), so if nothing else, I’ll chance a nice, herbal-tea-habit development.

Interesting, fun Calea fact: the natural habitat of the plant is the high altitude cloudforests in a small area of the southern Mexican sierra (source: erowid.org).  Real cute.  Cloudforests?  Seriously?  Almost a little too hilarious, but that’s just me.

I still haven’t been very diligent with recording my dreams lately.  I do have some information, however little.  Isn’t it interesting that what dream that might have been vividly detailed only a few moments ago, can abruptly become something you’re not even sure you’re not just making up?  Why does it happen, and where do those memories go?  I suspect that our current base of conclusive knowledge (what we can say has been scientifically proven about memories and the mind) is good grounds to suspect that these memories are all there, all the time, regardless of whether they are within reach.

The brain is capable of, and so does so on a regular basis, compiles and organizes a great many more memories than we are consciously aware of, especially considering that the processes are all on an ongoing basis.  Sudden and unexpected reemergence of past memories, uncontrolled flash backs, confirmation of repressed memories, and purported memories of having a past life (those cases that have been investigated insofar as to confirm them as “unusual coincidences,” at least) all suggest that there is a system that works according to an as-of-yet-esoteric set of rules.  I say “esoteric” loosely, I suppose; these are regular, acknowledged phenomena that are not yet understood or predictable, but their impact seems consistently significant, regardless of the individual’s prior state.

I would postulate that a memory’s active presence “changes” an individual’s perceived world; we use them to decide the way that we navigate reality and the way that we form relationships.  Although the critical mind; the mind or “self” at the forefront of the helm; may be unaware, there is another, sub “self”* presiding over where the “immaterial” (memories, creations, anticipations, the gestational world where unobvious motives may be being tended to) is processed, manipulated, stored and ordered.  These two “minds” work in conjunction, simultaneously, and affect every aspect of life because of their joint nature – however, I would postulate further that each other’s presence, function and total potential does not specifically equate a guaranteed union.  Indeed, it would seem instead that one of man’s current, great obstacles is in that he has lost this ideal equilibrium.

*Another way I have thought about this is that instead of the two selves, it is instead that there is still just one “self”, but yourself as you consciously understand yourself (the self you spend time with while you’re awake) encapsulates an incomplete knowledge.  One unified self; a self of maximum integration of polarities; might conceivably be achieved through awareness and ease of access of both sides of the “dual awareness”, the conscious awareness as well as the subconscious awareness, and these two halves of self could unite, organized and cooperating, in taking steps towards successes.

I haven’t read much as far as all of the proposed theories and beliefs out there, but I have recently seen “dualism” in a few cameos across some of the documents I’ve been reading (read: lazily skimming).  These are only my impromptu winds of thinking, and I expect to read that someone may or may not have thought through or debunked what I have been amateurishly musing, so my notes are mostly “exercises” in articulation and problem-solving… rather than an etched timeline of Truth Excavation that I expect others should consider adopting.

I think I’m going to have to drop hopes of getting away with employing just one method of dream-recall.  The one being, of course, hoping to keep the dream-memories in tact while en route this blog…  The other one I’m thinking of, I guess, would be the age-old notebook-on-the-nightstand.  Dreams fly fast if not pinned by the pencil as soon as you’ve got the chance, annoyingly.  I had woken up a couple of times this morning with a better picture of one dream’s important parts still in my mind.  After waking up again, I still remembered, as well as remembered additional parts.

I don’t know what I did then to wipe all that clean, but I’m sure it wasn’t worth it.  I’m sure it was something like cracking a really stupid, overused joke at my girlfriend.  Anyway, a lot of that is gone now, but I’ll attempt to recollect what might have been left, lying akimbo in wake of its flight…

The bit that I had forgotten included some representation of my girlfriend, who is a taller, fair-skinned woman with short, auburn hair in loose curls.  She wears dark-rimmed glasses and has open eyes.  She was somehow related to an event wherein I had learned a language of some kind.  I can’t describe it with any significant detail; I know that there was an element or theme to do with communication; it felt like an addition, or development, in my personal repertoire (personal repertoire in a worldly sense).  The colours were limited but not desaturated and the light, evenly illuminating, but not as in what you’d expect, say, of a natural environment.  I would describe it as “clear”, or “optimal”, but not vivid.

The next few memories are disjointed.  Although they spanned a couple different settings, they all retained the aforementioned kind of colour-scheme and relative lighting.  I remember concrete slabs, similar to those laid for sidewalks, alongside a building which I am intuitively inclined to say was inspired by my elementary school.  Specifically, at one corner of the building, which reminds me now of my seventh grade classroom.  I arrived at this point near the end of my dream, where I met with 2 or 3 people that I do not remember anymore.

There was an Asian man, maybe Chinese, but I don’t remember his role.  The other unremembered people were already assembled before I arrived, and I don’t feel that we had any history before that moment in the dream, so they might not have been as important either way.  I do remember crouching down to greet a cat of white, orange and brown fur; she was long-haired, soft, and although I know now that she was definitely a cat, in the dream, she seemed almost as though she had actually been crudely assembled underneath all of her fur.  I will attempt to describe “crudely assembled”: instead of the gradual curves that are characteristic of mammalian bodies; fluid and orderly without steep or sudden changes except at joints; it was almost as though she had been assembled in pieces, thus lacking uniformity.  I don’t want to say “box-like” because she was not like a box, but you might imagine a tissue box with added pieces to create a cat-shape, with the jagged ends and spaces between the pieces filled to more smoothly connect.  Of course, then, fur would be applied and etc, etc.

I engaged her and was immediately fond.  As soon as my interest had been piqued by her, the persons around me became irrelevant to the passage of time and irrelevant to any consequences of dream-events.  I became aware that she was not just a cat, but a virus; in the dream, I didn’t need to sort out the differences between “cat“, “virus” and/or “cat-virus“, as I suppose I just intrinsically knew.  She was a kind of virus that had the potential to infect humans, certainly, and perhaps just anything.  We entered the building through a mauve door (another characteristic of my elementary school) and proceeded to run down a hallway (the older wing of the building, including primary bathrooms, the entrance to the gym, a flight of steps and a branching off to the hallway leading to classrooms for K – grades 1 through 3).  She followed me, or I followed her, I can’t be exactly sure now.  I bumped into someone who took an interest in the cat (as passerby tend to do when they cross paths with animals in the company of people).  We paused for courteousness and I informed her that the cat was a virus.  I don’t remember why I did this, but I imagine that it may have been a caution.

At this point, the interior of the building had transformed to become my elementary school undoubtedly.  I remember coming to the end of the hallway, where it met with another hall that went equal ways in either direction.  I have a hole in my recollection here, however, as the next memories no longer take place in the school, but I have no memories of traveling from the school to the next location.

Next, I began to navigate through man-made paths in between closely-nestled townhomes.  The air was cool, the colour palette cool as well (greens, blues, slate, grey, white, etc) and the shade from planted trees with tear-shaped leaves casting watery shadows over all.  There was glass, doors, white panels, open windows and open-layouts, especially so of one home in which I entered, but I do not remember why I entered.  The pathway seemed to lead right into the house, so I guess it probably would have been an unnatural effort to avoid entering actually, now that I think about it.  The cat was still in my company, but less apparently.

The house was inhabited by a man, 30s possibly, with brown-auburn, short hair.  He had a dog, certainly, but I’m pressed to remember that he had, specifically 3 pets: this is purely a hunch and I can explain it only insomuch as that.  I can’t remember anything about the other pets.  In fact, I don’t think I recalled any of this sequence even as I started to type out this entry.  Moving along…

His house seemed to have been arranged according to a custom-design; it had that kind of “decided” air to the layout, what with an aesthetically-pleasing cut-out that opened one of the walls, all bordered by decorative molding, wall-mounted shelves and the like.  The colours were all blues, dark and cool (why is it that these palettes distinctly impress upon the senses with ideas about clarity/intelligence?).  The shelves and moldings off-set the rest, in white.  There were personal effects everywhere: books, mostly, as well as what I suppose were probably items collected through travel or by being part of some academic circle.  Everything was organized, but not pristine to be uncomfortable.  I moved through this house as if wading through water; very strange.

The dream-world was assembled really rather like a river at this point, populating the visuals that I was seeing in an almost lazy way.  I say this because while of course it all made sense to me at the time, the pace of transitioning forward was so steady, too steady, and didn’t really obey that things do not so exactly “flow” forward like that in the waking world – or do they?  Heh.

My cat eventually petered out of my conscious awareness.  The man’s presence was that of someone who has accomplished security and stability, is therefore confident and uneasily roused, thus the sort of air that his house carried.  I can’t remember our interactions, but I do remember seeing his dog (a friendly golden retriever) under a glass coffee table, which was pushed against some kind of couch, on top of which were stacked magazines.  I could see, beyond, windows against the wall of the house that led outside, through the open front door (really, just a front “opening”).  I could see the trees outside, as well as the white panels of adjacent homes.  The blue shadows of the tree leaves moving in the wind were against these white, paneled walls.

Looking back in “time” at this point, I have very faint memories of a long table stretching out to another wall (think: boardroom?), with walls close to either side of the table as well.  It seemed you could only enter this room easily through one end, but there was no door.  the table was white.  A note on this: this area/event was much deeper within the house, but I don’t remember how I got there.  I don’t remember how I made my way out again, either.

I had some things scribbled in my current notebook (from a few days prior) about a dream that I managed to remember small snatches of, but now that I look over them, some of them no longer make any sense.  I guess that’s what I get for getting so suddenly lazy about this venture.  I’m just as motivated to keep it going regularly, I guess I have to exert myself a little further than keeping the image alive in my head, what it would look like if I weren’t the goddamned procrastinator I’ve become, diligently maintaining this SIMPLE routine every day.  At least most days.  It’s for my own good, too – I don’t even have the excuse of having been forcibly assigned this by an instructor or whatever.

The dream itself, now, let us get to it.  It took place across a wide variety of settings in a much grander universe, much wider I suppose, than the dreams I’m used to remembering.  The expanse wasn’t something I remember truly comprehending to its fullest; as if there were parts of the universe unknown to me, perhaps unknown to most people.  If you’ve ever read the Dune series, you may be able to get a sense of what I mean.  Although it was known that the universe spanned a great deal in many directions, encompassing many different worlds as well as the space between them, a true understanding may not have been a practical goal unless your work specifically required that of you.

I remember scenes of an “outer space“-like environment, silly as that seems to have to put in such terms.  It wasn’t cold or barren, however, as a lot of depictions of space oft communicate.  Not to say it was a space to accommodate life, for that would hardly be outer space at all, but there was something about it that made it more familiar and accessible to me.  I felt more familiar, more equal, and more able, as if I had the sort of explicit right to operate in the space, I guess I could say.  The ‘right’ is not the right that is granted, rather, the right that is gradually acquired on its own time through repeated and ongoing efforts to work ably within the environment.

I remember a lot of scenes that took place in a more earthly setting, too; actually, these were scenes that I’m sure took place before any of the outer-space visuals.  I remember a gravel road, a coniferous forest, an overcast sky and turning black wheels (think of a logging truck’s wheels).  I also remember ascending this gravely hill, the forest’s edge at my right, the sky growing a bit darker, before being able to discern a sort of shallow gorge.  It was quarry-like, maybe?  It was, either way, something that had been hollowed out from the ground by the will of a man and not natural.  The white rocks of the gravel may have been laid there as well, for traction.

After this, I remember scenes taking place within a concrete, warehouse-like building.  It was such that sounds echoed, the ceiling was so high that it dissolved into darkness and so it could not be determined just how high it actually went, and was intermittently divided by square, concrete pillars.  The pillars were lit with bright white lights.  I’m not sure how anyone could navigate this place without a tracking device or electronic map.  This is the sort of place that one would really rather traverse by vehicle, for it seemed to stretch far beyond that of the typical warehouse.  I’m staying myself from the label “basement”, though that I thought of it at all may be of assistance in properly imagining this dream-scape.  I can’t recall as to whether or not I was strictly myself during any of this; it’s possible that I could have been observing this Out-Of-Body.

And of course, as entitled, there was some sort of space craft involved.  I remember thick, rubber-like wires, metal flooring and walls, tinny sounds and transparent panes out of which I could see and therefore discern that the craft could move itself far and fast, massive though it was.

I also have the words “tattoo“, “versions artistic”, “hollow universe” and “reality alteration” scrawled in Bic-ballpoint-blue, down here in front of me across the page.  I cannot remember what they’re describing now.

Honestly.  Is irony coincidental, and if not, then we could assign a probability to it and then make better decisions so as to know to avoid it.  The algorithm could be as obscure or as long as is conceivable, but once known, maybe we could have some sort of new “foresight”

Anyway.

The day after I completed that first entry, I ceased to remember my dreams for a period of time; when I did manage to remember anything, it was only for a very brief time.  More often though, I just didn’t remember at all.  I have been remembering nary more than impressions, random flashbacks and similar sorts of snippets.  I figure that I had better start to record something, though; I wager this may be some sort of ornery, subconscious-self challenge for being insufficiently paid-attention-to.  I won’t remember more by waiting to remember more, I suppose is the big idea.  I had better just record what I remember, coherently substantial though it may not exactly be.

I’d like to keep separate dreams to separate entries each, so while the date of the entry may not be correct (bah), the organizational function of the blog will serve me better that way.

I also have some ideas that I would like to get into writing, for I’ve recently had my first encounter with Salvia Divinorum 10x.  For now, I can be satisfied to report that the experience was memorable.  Safely memorable enough to be able to wait a little bit more before sitting down to write it all out.  I wonder if this is an appropriate place for an entry like that?  Anyway, it will get its own entry if it does get one here, too.  I’ll need to put something about it somewhere, anyway, because I have some Salvia 20x (Salvia De La Luz or something I think?  A special extract, “for experienced psychonauts only”) on the way.  I don’t know if such a trip’s assuredly superior potency can squash it’s predecessor, but just in case, I won’t be risking it.

Early in the dream, events took place in a semi-urban setting.  By “semi-urban”, I mean to say that the environment could be described as similar to what might be a blend of my current reality’s environment and another which was, perhaps, inspired by regular reality anyway.  The air was light and the sky was grey and high above.  The white noise of the “city” around me seemed at least to be that of an urban environment’s.  There were no natural sounds besides the wind.

Outside my house (I do not remember anything that took place inside the house), the urban setting stretched around me in all directions.  Tall “skycraper” buildings were scarce and the land was flat.  It was as though the city itself were a floating base, though I could not see any sign of being afloat a body of water.

Directly beside my home outside, there was a very tall building in which I knew the residents.  In particular, I knew a man, but I do not remember his name or much of what he looked like, aside from: his face had a big nose, bushy eyebrows and he had dark, Caucasian skin (the kind of dark that comes with sun, dirt, and general wear, albeit). He was a rough sort of personality, I recall, and was well-versed in the ways of automobile repair, home-repair and similar of things.  I remember his hair being dark grey.  He did not style it.  He lived with a woman, but I do not remember their relationship.  She had dark blonde hair, but, like he was, she was more unkempt than kept.

At one point (I can’t remember how time passed between these two instances, but I know that I had seen and known the building before this next event happened), I came out from my house to see his tall building and was surprised to see that it had been gutted, however still standing as otherwise usual.  The insides of the house were visible and hanging free to the air; it didn’t seem that the building should have been standing at all, given the degree to which it was in disrepair.  I could see the pipes and most of the floors.  In fact, the it seemed that the level of destruction grew as the floors descended to its base – in what I assume to be in lieu of, an impulsive butterflies-in-the-stomach-fright was immediately apparent to me, despite that I was still very much on the ground.  At the top, he was there, kneeling on the floor (what was left of it).  I feel that he must have been at work on something.  In what I saw to be the bathroom, he, the woman he lived with nearby, recognized me but I do not remember if we exchanged words.  I do remember another, taller person nearby with me on the ground at the time; they had made some comment that I reacted with fear (amused by that I suppose), but other than that, I can’t remember how else they contributed to the dream or who they were to me.

Somehow, I reached the man’s level, but I do not remember climbing any stairs or being assisted in any other way.  The bathroom was dirty: dusty (dried streaks of dust), had a general colour-scheme of yellow and grey and the floor was an old-fashioned, patterned linoleum. He said that it was time for him to move, I believe?  From then, (again) I don’t remember how, but I left the scene and reappeared in a scene of similar-layout, starring the man but with two other younger men there.  I wonder if they were his sons, but I do not know for sure.

We were viewing a screen of some sort while sitting on the floor before a low-coffee table.  Many make-shift home furnishings populated the small room (the air was distinctly something could have been the sort of inner-city apartment that a man does not share with a woman).  It was a crowded room and the light from the windows was cold and white, but the air was not cold; outside, the city described earlier retained its presence, but I did not look outside to confirm that it was still familiar to me.  The colour scheme was of dark colours: blacks, dark green carpet, etc.

The screen displayed a computer game that the group of us were commenting on.  I watched intently, but the setting of the game, suddenly but seamlessly, consumed my perception of my environment and I found myself in yet another, new, urban setting.  I was unfamiliar but vaguely aware that usual societies and government of man were no longer applicable, as could have been expected.  I don’t remember my immediate course of action, but I am vaguely aware that I changed perspectives around this time.

In my new perspective, I was quite mobile and part of a new social circle.  Suddenly, I had ascended a sort of stone tower that had open-air windows.  Within, at the very top, there was a room that had a very large stone basin in the middle and a narrow strip on which to walk around it as the floor.  I was part of a family there: a couple of my siblings were there, but most noteworthy was my sister, of whom seemed to be of an important profession in that world.  She wielded a kind of power or possessed a kind of ability that had significance to the tower, society in general and could be demonstrated/manifested safely using the deep basin.  Apparently, we could all summon this power, however amateurishly.

Upon demonstrating, her eyes grew opaque and her form changed.  Although I do not remember witnessing her melt exactly, I remember the distinct sense that she had become more molten or had some kind molten quality to her that rendered her body to be of a new substance.  I imagine she would use this ability in either combat or for some other supernatural means.  Our younger sister seemed to possess a special inclination, similar to hers, but she was ill equipped both in her education of it and in her practise.  At this time, I left the tower.  I do not recall how, but my means of travel was by air.

I traversed many different countries then: each of the countries were as separate worlds that embodied different values (culturally, spiritually), were topographically very different from one another and were a great distance apart from each other as well.  Between worlds, the ground and seas below would gradually disappear beneath mist and so I could not see exactly the way between them.  I seemed to have control over my direction only while directly above a terrain that I could see; when I did see, I navigated my way between and over a variety of structures, buildings and natural features (trees, grasses, mountains, water, etc).

Most memorable was a world that was pre-urban civilization.  It was a wet, lush world of many elevations.  The rocks and mountains were teeming with dark green mosses, grasses, trees and all manner of vegetative life.  It was jungle-like and the air was wet.  I ascended the dark, deep brown rocks by air and looked in on rooms that seemed to have been peopled, however I did not actually see anyone.

There was one particular room wherein I was informed that I had lived there once, but I do not know how I knew this.  It was a crude room that seemed to have been carved out of the mountain (the “rock” was more like a blend of organic materials such as saturated, compacted dirt, wood, clay and the like).  There was a small collection of jewelry that I noticed in particular.  The original, mysterious source of the information told me that I should not be surprised to learn that this had been my residence (told me that “basically”; I don’t recall any single word, rather, simply the knowledge); I was informed, too, that this has been “after all”, the site of (man) first having worn rings.  I remember a silver ring with a flattened blue top, upon which a silver star was etched (Probably inspired by some of the jewelry I already have/my girlfriend has).

I should make a note to this end that “man first wore rings” to appease Prometheus, according to Greek myth.  Prometheus, having stole the Fire of the Gods to give to man, was punished severely by Zeus for doing so.  Zeus’, true to his style, prescribed a cruel and unusual sentence: he had the perpetrator bound by cuffs to a rock where, daily, an eagle would visit and devour his liver.  The liver that rebirths itself by night, regardless of circumstances, may well have been miraculously fortunate for most of us, I suppose.  For Prometheus, it was a rather unlucky privilege.  He would only have to put up with this for about 30,000 years (praise be) mind you, for Zeus then eventually permitted Heracles (Hercules) to deliver Prometheus his final release by slaying the (comfortably free-loading) eagle.

It is said that this is when man first wore rings, fashioned of iron and stone.  They were symbols of the cuffs that Prometheus had been bound with; man appreciably acknowledged his suffering this way, justified in their gratitude for him.