The Door to Change….

Fear.

Fear is what gives me writers block as I sort through all of what’s to say, how to say it, what this means, these “dreams”…. Am I responsible enough not to propagate fear in articulation.

Fear.

Is my vocabulary extensive enough to translate these experiences into words.

Fear. 

Was I foolish in stockpiling my notes and not publishing them, as TIME has displayed that precognitive element…that has now become post-cognitive….time after time. I've decided to stop worrying about that…about all of that and just post.

Post...

without the fear of bias…fear of disbelief.

Post...

without even an explanation for those  who need or feel the need to have something directly interpreted  in the comparism of realism and symbolism.  What if… there is no “symbolism” what if this is real and finite. What if the interpretation is so clear through all of the unknown that it is what it is. I think that makes it ok…ok to put out there…. half “undigested”. What if it's meant to come out the way it is, in its raw true form regardless of the understanding or not…regardless of it “not fitting the bill of standards”. What are standards when everything has changed…when the world changed from under us with semi awareness.  I think we need this breath of fresh air, a clean slate into reality. So here’s my reality….day by day, the pieces into my fragmented "dreams".

8/5/23… Dear Diary…He gave me his key…

Lucid dream in vibrant colors. I was outside in what felt as a public place, there were others around me. To my right was the man one would consider to be a companion here in this reality. I saw a plane, an aircraft, maybe what we would consider to be a fighter jet. It landed in front of me, along with a fleet behind it. The fleet was not too close to intimidate but close enough to get the message across that he is not alone. I watched a male come out of the main craft, he walked straight towards me. He was larger than most, he had features like ours although he felt and I knew he was foreign…foreign as in foreign to all of us....different. He was wearing a white shirt with something that looked like gold stars on top of his shoulders that felt to be a part of a uniform, separate to that  of his fleet. I felt he was the Commander… like a Chief... a Chieftain. The others were still in their crafts. I watched this male approach me face to face with absolute no regard to the companion beside me. I lucidly felt this “Commander’s” full knowledge of who the guy next to me was in relation to me. He was clearly not concerned…not at all phased. It was almost like the guy was…just there. He looked at me…into my eyes, put his head down in (as best as I can describe) almost a bow. There was something to that…that act. It almost felt…sacred…like an offering that is not offered without a commitment…the commitment of  something grand. It felt honorable… exclusive. As he bowed his head, he reached his arm out in a closed fist to give me something. I extended my hand to meet his and he dropped something that looked like a solid block in my palm…I had the lucid knowing of it to be a key. I felt it to be the key to his craft but wasn't sure. There was an importance in the magnitude of his gesture. I was taken back by this but not appalled. This  encounter with a “stranger” who was giving me the key to something that felt like his world . He skillfully and deliberately skipped over first base and all the other bases for that matter, going straight into…home. My mind scaned for something to say to him…something to ease his mind into understanding the pace of my time, my reality…or maybe I panicked in all of my brokenness thinking I'm unworthy of such an act. How do I tell him this isn’t normal? But what is normal really? The pace of my time….what is that? What is that really? I could think of nothing else to say (telepathically) but “How about your phone number”. I could laugh now but I wanted him to understand, although I knew the value of what he was giving me, there was still a value to not taking all that is his… and maybe we could start with something reasonable. The thought of this male standing in front of me and giving me his key to whatever, in front of his entire fleet had this feeling of something being potentially “contracted” between us…some kind of consortium. A consortium on every level…it felt like a union, a coupling with the intimacy and legalities all wrapped  in one…. (This is as best as I can translate this clairvoyant imagery and sentiment). From that one simple head bow jester to the declaration of his key. As I spoke, he lifted his head back up to mine with a look of confusion as if he was attempting to process or understand what I said. It took him a few seconds as if there was a small delay in translation, he then lifted his other hand in a weird writing position and a pen or writing instrument appeared, I noticed a gold thick shinning bracelet on his wrist as he wrote 1111111. I know it was a sequence of ones and not characters because my mind was lucidly repeating the numbers…1111111.

That’s where the “dream” ended, I either blacked out deeper into sleep or perhaps it was intended that way. I cycled into another “dream” or at least at the time I thought was another “Dream”....

I was inside of some kind of vessel, something that was in the air that felt by the laws of gravity should not have been able to fly, but it was, and I was in it sitting side by side with a female. She felt…different. She had similar female features but I felt her to be anatomically different…like human-ish. The word I lucidly heard was “humanoid”. There was a level of comfort and familiarity…a warmth between us. She passed me a device that I knew to be like a phone, as if she wanted me to translate information to whomever was on the other end. I knew they were in transient and needed direction, I heard myself say, “when you get here in this proximity, call me, my number is 1111111. I lucidly heard myself repeating or reiterating or rewinding that possibly to jar my body from sleep, just enough to remember…

1111111….1111111….1111111….1111111.

It worked, I woke up,  grabbed my iPhone and recorded  audio dictation, just enough as to not forget. A few hours later, being fully awake, that kept replaying itself. I thought I had two separate dreams with mere ”coincidence” of the phone number. I, of all people should know better. Perceptive reality began slipping  in throughout the mundane-ness of my morning routine. I had a much fuller understanding… perception changed. It became clear that, that was not two separate occurrences. What happened? What happened in all the between time? What happened after I “blacked out”…and how did HIS number become MY number?

Was it a dream...or was it my insight?

Between these dreams, I live life, which is starting to feel more like my alternate reality…full of coincidences, comparisons and symbolism proportionate to my sleep life.... those constant triggers to remind me that something grander is going on "behind the OZ curtain". Every night is a sequential continuous pattern  of the same story…my story…the unknown or forgotten one…the unremembered.

9/12/23…Dear Diary…The Display Cases…

(Yes, I left out 9/11's Dream for another blog)

Lucid Dream…vibrant colors….a door came into view, It felt as if I was in some kind of living quarters. I was standing outside of a door with two cylinder locks and a door knob. I clairvoinatly knew I didn’t need the key to these locks, it was accessible to me. I walked in confusion into a strange place that felt as if it was mine …I thought it should be empty but it's not…its furnished. The main room was brightly lit, I could see hallways that lead to other rooms… Was I touring through the wrong space? I noticed a bed, a very small bed, like a twin sized bed, with a very big lump. There was a male in the bed…a big one. Why would a male that size be in a bed so small, and with such decadence to this space, why would he have such a small bed…a one “seater”, I thought lucidly… and with him piercing through my thoughts, He began answering my silent questions…. he wanted it very clear to me that no one else has shared his bed. It was a telepathic silent communication… the transference of thoughts in block formation. He was  wrapped in a very bright white quilt.. shrouded . I couldn’t make out his face. There was something to this scene  that was a mystery to remember, as if I should have known why… why it was inappropriate of him to “show” himself to me in his bed…It felt like an act of respect…I felt it. Not only did he want to make it clear that no one else has shared his bed, but he was speaking to me “shrouded”… covered from head to toe with just a pocket of space for his face. It had a quality of … respectfulness. Why did I feel like I was moving in.. into a strange place with a strange male with clear “customs” that were…strange. He spoke words this time ... "You can take anything you want, you can choose all that is mine (I clairsentiently felt the weight of the word "everything" in that statement) but you can’t stay here, we’re moving”. The “we” part came with an impact…. As to be clear there was nothing singular to that statement. So I started walking through the rooms of this house that felt glutted with life patterns and legacies…themes. I  felt as if I was walking through a meuseum. There were items I could not recognize. There were huge display cases carved  into the walls, brightly lit with focused lighting as to highlight the items. I looked up at a display case that someone of my size would need a ladder just to be in eye range… perhaps it wasn’t meant to be in eye range as the items were displayed at a downward angle.

It was beautiful, whatever it was…whatever they were. I have no words…four or five huge metallic like items, grayish blue in color so vibrant…accented by the lighting. It had a “feel of technology” that I clairsentiantly "felt" in an odd way....the metal. Each piece had a circular window… a rounded  glass... big enough to take two rows. I took a moment to think as I felt the lucid pull of the gears switching in my brain to that analytical store house of mine…that mental rolodex searching for a word. I couldn’t do it, couldn't find it so I spit out an alternative… a description...huge versions of the piece that spells out messages on an Ouiji board. I don't even know the name for that. I do not play with nor recommend the use of an Ouiji board…I respectfully leave that in its place. As a Psychic who is also a Medium, I am naturally "the channel" and I do not dabble in that kind of play.

The word was Planchette. They looked like four or five huge metallic planchettes. Whatever I was looking at deserved more than a passing glance…I knew it regardless of weather or not I understood what I was looking at. I made a mental note of it as I moved on. I then noticed another huge brightly lit display case, but this time it was carved into the lower part of the wall…almost grounded. I can only describe this as a beige-ish looking tapestry…like a big scroll, unscrolled. There were big black inked letters...words…In paragraph form. I lucidly heard "Hebrew". It told a story. The next word to come to me was “Kabbalah” and I felt that to be another clue by association. The Ink was bold and had a look that stayed fresh.... wet. This was a passage of some sort but I have no idea what.

So that’s that and now I’m awake with the fresh recollection… a total recall so fresh it was a breeze taking note of.

9/14/23….Dear Diary… The Space Capsule Door…

So here’s the sexy part…here’s where it gets interesting… where it all ties in on many levels... the malleable actual…  “actualization”  of the random not so random experiences time and time again. Time… What a journey.

It was mid day, I “Felt” the need to just let go mentally…to shift gears into that  Netflix dive… that pull of a story…an abstraction…the rapture of fantasy, or what I thought was fantasy. So I start on that visual scrolling of titles and pictures. "A Girl & an Astronaut”…I’ll pick this one as It felt like a loose string…a string to pull on.  I hesitantly hit play knowing that there’s more to this story than just a story and it’s more than her story, it’s part of my story. I’m so sick of love stories full of conflict and drama, so sick of a perfect picture tainted by the unhappily ever after effect. After all, I surely don’t need Netflix for  that. So I watch….in trepidation. It started well but by the second episode I wanted to turn it off. You don’t have to be psychic to figure out why…A love triangle, a Love story gone south. Fast. Love, lust and hormones. I got the Clairvoyant reminder…the “knowing” that I’m watching this for a reason. I go with it, with not a second thought although it’s sensitive for me on so many levels, so many spectrums of my own reality. The “Astronaut” giving me his key in front of the man next to me who was insignificant…the whole love triangle thing that I’ve lived through one too many times. It’s sensitive. Too sensitive to write and now I have to watch it.  Before long I got lost in the episodes, I cycled through five, on the fifth episode I was completely…joyfully…shockingly stunned when I saw…the door.

In brief, there was a scene where the Astronauts are at a training facility. One by one, they enter a flight simulator Capsule as it reaches the  speed  of Mock seven. In this scene, the two main men in this love triangle are monitoring eachother’s stability as they try to best each other in trying to maintain and prevent losing consciousness and throwing up in that male rivalry. It became so much more than jockeying for that one position for that flight into space…It became a “who’s the better man, who’s cock is bigger” pissing contest. As the capsule door opens, one comes out bracing his manhood as the other eyes him scanning for weakness as he makes his way up the steps and into the capsule for his simulation exercise … it's at that point, that the connection was made…the connection bridging my “dream” time reality into my “real” time reality. The Planchette wasn’t a Planchette. It was a door…an Austronauts door, a space capsule door. I was looking at a door that was actually the “Artifact” in my dream…the exact color. That explained why I lucidly “felt” the metallic connection… it WAS some kind of metal…it WAS metal. As auspicious as my dreams are, with that precognitive nature, I still could not believe what I was seeing and how this all played itself out so effortlessly, in a controlled  force that is…unexplainable, absolute…undefinable yet outright “In your face”. The  absolute realism of how malleable everything is…Everything. It’s that zing of a reminder of how we are in control of….nothing. As egotistical and intellectual one might think “man” to be…there’s a superior force stronger, smarter and capable of altering things, ideas, thoughts and time… especially “time”. Two days after having that experience in my dream time and knowing that I needed help and could not understand what I was looking at, THEY brought me…the door... the door of deliverance. So many “doors” in my sleep…The Door of Haldi (In a previous blog) The Astronaut’s Door…THE door….his door, his souvenirs. It’s starting to make sense, the pieces … the bread crumbs, the dream after dream walk through of my life, or his life or my life AND his life. Clearly this is something I have to face…ready or not. Who are you? Who am I facing? Is the stranger that I am facing you…after all…Enlil…aren’t you….aren’t THEY.... the ultimate space travelers?  This is becoming so real…the merging into my physical life….to real to be the randomness of dreams, for nothing is random. What is going on with my life…What’s coming for me? How big is this change? Why am I not afraid.