[The long dry spell was due to a depressing dip into new age religion of the sort wherein one becomes convinced--by people who are making money teaching this--that he must earn his way into some sort of hierarchy of those who deserve one sort of 'afterlife' over another. Actually there is no 'afterlife' because time has no hold on reality outside of this physical experience . Time words like 'after' are red flags that someone could be trying to impose earthbound illusions on the Unworld. Outside of the Earthville thought prison, we can do what we want with serial time: take it or leave it--turn it up or turn it down--so if we leave here on purpose by developing a body of air, we become explorers of infinity.]
[I obviously don't know the details, but what we students of unworlding have to be wary of are those silver-tongued devils who think they do know exactly what's in store for all of us after death due to unworlding experiences that they've had. I don't belittle anyone's experiences, but unworlding--including NDE or near-death experience--is not the afterlife and it is not a taste of the afterlife. There is no afterlife as such, because what we call 'life' is a phenomenon specific to the Earthville dream. But there is infinite awareness eternally. That's enough for me.]
[The next dream is included because it was a Big Dream and was a Remake of my original Stumped-No-More dream. This barely non-lucid dream as well as the next one signalled the end of the dry spell as they marked a major Upsliding and were followed quickly by a number of lucid dreams.]
2017-01-09 12:35 am
"GongGong Gets It Right"
[Background: This afternoon as I was the first to leave a birthday party where I was terribly bored, the last person I spoke to was 10-year-old GongGong, who was just arriving with a friend. As a very small child, GG had been socially inept, beaten routinely by his father and bullied by all his peers because he never knew what to do or say in order to join in with the group. His first real friend, my son, was instructed to let GG into the clique and stop making him out to be a misfit. By now GG is a normal, happy kid with lots of friends. The following dream is also about Whirly, who was known for years as Stumped-No-More the Fearless Fiddler, an ancient, crippled, homeless, mystical musician who I encountered in the best dream I ever had, over 35 years ago. Like the dream I had in 1980, last night's dream was a very unusual experience. Words, including the word "dream", don't do justice in trying to describe this experience.]
At the birthday party, it's misty, foggy, I can barely see. I feel myself merging spontaneously with GongGong. I pick up two drumsticks and start banging on a drum, a fast, perfect solo. I'm amazed at my sudden proficiency because I--GongGong--am making truly beautiful music. The rhythm falls out of me effortlessly in a beautiful, flowing outpouring of raw passion.
I continue with unabated perfect self-expression in a state of ecstasy for about two minutes or so, until the music I am making is no longer drum music, but a variety of instruments channeled straight from soul to atmosphere. I become lucid enough to know that my wife will notice me sobbing ecstatically, but I don't care.
I find myself in a nice, spacious old apartment that I'm aware of having just moved into. I really like this place. I find myself wandering aimlessly, looking at furniture I haven't used yet. The place is black and white--old white plaster walls, high ceilings, and very dark old wood trim and old-fashioned dark-stained furniture, all old and funky but comfortable and clean.
There's a knock on the door which surprises me because I'm new here and don't know anybody. I open the door cautiously, wanting to see who it is before opening it all the way. It's a woman about 45 years old, dowdy, with shoulder length, auburn, wavy hair. Working-class type, not the intellectual or artiste sort that would appeal to me as friend or girlfriend. She says something about three things they want me to do with them. I don't get exactly what she's referring to, but I hear a loud TV from an open apartment door TO THE RIGHT of my door. I figure she's inviting me to watch a World Series or the like, and I tell her thanks, but I don't have time for TV. By the time I'm done saying this, she's already gone and I can hear her walking into her apartment saying something to her roommates which I assume is derogatory toward me. But I'm unaffected by this, and just glad she didn't insist.
I'm back alone in my awesome studio ready to create something, so what shall I create? I see a long, narrow dark-colored desk and can't wait to sit at it and write something, but what?
Oh Yeah! I almost forgot, I have to write down the dream I just had about GongGong! It's amazing how quickly I forgot about it. I see that there's no desk lamp on the bare desk, so I look up and see a light fixture directly above the desk on the ceiling. I head over to the wall to switch on the light, and [wake up, my face wet with tears.]
[To bed. Intent is to merge with Whirly again and experience from his perspective again the seven dream bodies and chakras.]
[The Urumara is a one way valve.]
10-30 pm - 2:45 am
[Worked on website.]
2017-01-10 2:45 am
[Every time I woke up, I was in heavy duty, dynamic images [the Projection Room]. Told myself to rise up if dreaming, told myself to go into image. Went back to sleep, not enough sleep, no dreams remembered.]
[Will go to bed by 7:30 latest. Intent Agenda is to merge with Whirly, experience all seven dream bodies from his perspective, to transition back through the Tunnel, open my physical eyes, close them and transition back to Unworld experiencing all the stages along the way. That is my plan.]
[Up to pee. No dreams remembered.]
I'm in a bakery and the chocolate has all been sold and they don't have more stock since it's inventory time and they're trying to run out of things. I decide this is OK, I'll just have one of those big nasty cinnamon rolls and some other largish sticky treats to make up for it.
In a muddy, grungy, ghettoey courtyard that serves as back yard to apartment buildings on all four sides, I'm sitting watching a slender older Asian woman gardening, dressed only in a flimsy, skimpy, short bathrobe. When she bends over, the short robe threatens to ride up her bare bottom, and I look away. An inner voice QUESTIONS this--why look away? A woman's a woman. She was young once, wasn't she? But I manage to dissolve the scene somehow. I end up inside a darkish restaurant doing some business with an Asian man.
"All This For a Beer"
In Stockton traveling west from Pacific Ave., into neighorhoods, returning to new apartment, I realize I have none of the indulgence supplies which I deserve, having accumulated some money and not spent any for a long time. So I turn TO THE RIGHT and cut across a tiny park or PATCH OF GRASS [the Nowhere] and find myself already back at Pacific Ave. I QUESTION this as I know I should have several more blocks to walk, and realize the street is just a busier-than-usual residential street cutting northish diagonally thru neighborhoods. I start cutting corners myself by entering apartment buildings through front doors and out side doors, but I find I'm intruding into people's living areas as the front door of the building is actually the door directly into someone's apartment [a series of doors represents multiple trips through the Urumara, either getting more and more lucid or wavering up and down]. There's a baby in a walker and I hear a woman talking in another room, so I leap straight through and out the out door a few feet away--the little room is like a major short cut of some kind. I end up going into another apartment building and again I'm directly into an apartment.
This time the occupant is a man. He is understanding about my intrusion, it happens all the time. I apologeticlally head back the way I came, but he [Dream Usher] tells me not to bother, why not take the short cut. I say OK and turn around. I open a door but it's the kitchen and a big RED dog leaps past me into the kitchen which is sunk down. The little landing I'm on has doors going all ways [the Nowhere] so I go through an open one leading up some NARROW GREEN STAIRS [the Urumara] made from rough lumber which leads to a precipice from which I have to decide whether or not to jump into a bright gray featureless void [The Nowhere]. I do [and wake up.]
[Back to bed.]
I'm joined by Cwahacoy: long blonde hair, casually self-confident, earthy, BLUE jeans--we need a private place to be together so I'm driving [car unseen] and we're on a country road which dead ends near a forest or banana plantation [the Nowhere]. There's a barbed wire fence and a sign says "GO AWAY" [the Urumara] but I QUESTION whether this is enforced. I imagine us making out in the shade of a tree and I think it's worth the risk. She goes in ahead of me, unafraid, and now we are two couples, the other couple preceding her. Surprisingly, the ground inside is actually a huge mass of a beautiful gray-blue stone [see "To La-La Land and Beyond"--maybe this is Cwahacoy's color, my personalized shade for 6ness.] She skips and hops energetically and spontaneously down the sheet of the building-sized boulder while I follow more carefully.
I lose track of Her as I become more interested in the place [state of being] than in the company [who I've already merged with]. I see that there is a high roof far overhead and this is a huge building, like a vast auditorium. WONDERING where I am, I momentarily see the building from the outside. I can tell it's a University building because I see the name of the building outside.
I'm showing an important large picture book to a silent, unseen female companion [SC]. The pages are odd and foldy and a little stuck together, so I have to concentrate to get to the illustration I want her to see. Finally the two pages separate and it's a two-page spread, a beautiful stylized rendering of a Tiger [Whirly] showing the whole tiger from the side, mid-stride, with his head turned to the side so he's looking out of the page straight at us.
I see that the picture was printed with a special process similar to one of those holographic things that turns into a different picture if you look at it from a different angle, but this is much better. The process is explained on the page as a layer of ink overlaying the Tiger. The ink itself is like a computer that never shuts off so that it can update the picture while you gaze at it. I demonstrate the effect to my companion by allowing the paper to roll up slightly and letting the roll move across the page like a wave. The layer of ink is invisible when you view the page straight on, but when the paper is bent, the tiger is covered by a blackish green, not shiny, oddly fuzzy or 3-dimensional [the Nowhere], which then disappears when the page lays down flat again.
[Woken up by wife.]
[Obviously my Intent Agenda is trying hard to manifest itself. Repeating that in case there's any doubt: "I will merge with Whirly (formerly known as Tiger, who sometimes cues lucidity) and experience all seven dream bodies (Whirly's constituents) from his perspective." The correspondence of the symbology to the agenda is obvious. Also the 3D GREEN of the Nowhere and the bluish-gray stone which I experienced in a previous lucid dream is conspicuous.]
[Did laundry and worked on blog posts and pictures of the Tunnel. Alone all day, alone still.]
[Living in the reality check is not saying,"Gee maybe I'm dreaming." It is: "I am brushing my teeth in my dream," "I am driving to work in my dream," etc. I will merge with Whirly (my higher self) and I will experience all 7 dream bodies from his perspective. I will transit to my waking reality, open my eyes, close them, and return to the Unworld. Experience every step of the way in both directions.]
[Woke up from jumbled noisy dream with aurages echoing but forget the words, was able to instigate Projection Room abilities by Noticing, red lines drawing themselves all over the place like a Windows Screensaver, but had to pee pretty bad and had already moved and stretched. Remember to be still when awakening in bed. Remember Intent Agenda.]
2017-01-12 3:30 am
[Me and lucidity were made for each other, the time is now. Back to sleep in dream bed with dream mask.]
[This page reserved for lucidity. I know who I am. I am dream.]
[It worked. I got lucid twice in a row in quick succession.]
In a big, dark, used Bookstore with my family [no visual of them--Soul Retinue]. The others only have so much time to stand around while I scour every bookstore from top to bottom, so we leave. This is the City, ident is NW 23rd St. Portland. But for me instead of for yuppies. We pass used Bookstores at least twice and these places call out to me, but I don't want to slow the others down by dawdling. I'm sure my dad would be willing to buy me some books since I as an adult have no money, same as if I was a child. What I'd really like is if he would get me a hotel room so I could come back to this colorful street of books tomorrow by myself and give this place the Attention it deserves.
We walk past awesome-looking Bookstores ON THE LEFT AND RIGHT. Each time I imagine running in for just a second to check my section of interest, while the others wait outside watching the clock, indulging me while they fidget. Never mind. I'd rather skip the whole thing. I give up. [Detachment + Focus = Metsuke.]
At a Bookstore ON THE LEFT side of the street which I'm willing to pass up, my brother spots a BOOK he thinks I would like and points it out to my dad. The books are displayed outside on the sidewalk so we don't have to go in.
The book he picks up is a big BLACK old pump technicians' manual with the soft black cover covered in gold-leaf letters by a long, ostentatious title, something like "What Every Pump Man Really Really Has to Know About Pumps" or some such clever wording designed to get my Attention. [Pumps are 5ness, the Nowhere, which sucks us in from one dream environment and pumps us out into a different dream environment. Black is also the Nowhere.] I think THAT'S ODD, I never heard of a technical book from those days using flippant titles. I want to see it, but my bro has it in his hand and instead of getting it and passing it to me, my dad grabs the book that was under it, which has a faded RED cover but is on the same topic, and just as old, and hands it to me. I'm disappointed that he gave me the wrong book, but I flip through it anyway.
At this point, the family and the environment disappear [we merge] and all my Attention is on the page.
The first thing that catches my eye on the page is a line drawing picture of a guy on some contraption similar to a motorcycle but amounting to an invention. The caption mentions AIR, so I'm interested. I wonder if I'd be allowed to photocopy the page instead of buying the book. I give up on that idea quickly because I don't want to stoop to begging. I study the illustration MORE CAREFULLY. The INVENTOR is given some sort of cutesy name like "Mad Mike" and it's said that he drove his flying motorcycle right into the ocean more than once. That's funny, but my interest in air cars doesn't include flying cars, just the ones that are powered by compressed AIR with engines and wheels. Then I see that, besides the rudimentary dodo wings affixed to the sides of the motorcycle, there is in fact a powerful fan at the rear of the machine that's obviously what makes it go. I imagine the thing actually being able to FLY and then I see that the fan is actually running right there on the page of the book!
And I become lucid, [remember to release the dream plot, the book is gone and I'm in the Nowhere and I remember reading somewhere that I should stay calm and move slowly, but I consequently freeze up and don't know what to do. As I think about the blank that is my mind in a dark gray Nowhere, I become aware of being in my bed with a dry mouth wanting to pee. I know from experience that I can ignore those urges in order to squeeze a few more drops from this experience, in spite of momentarily letting the emotion of disappointment overwhelm me. I think even if I have to get up in five minutes, there's still time for another lucid dream. I wonder if the vibes in my arms and hands are real, because my hands are on my chest and maybe it's just a numbess from lack of circulation. I decide it would be better to put my hands down by my side than to worry about it, so I do that. Then I remember to almost ignore the Vibes instead of fretting and stewing about what to do with them. I always feel Vibes when I wake up straight out of a dream. Then I remember to clap and rub my dream hands, so I do that a few times, and I'm] back in the Bookstore.
It's nice and bright with daylight coming in a BIG FRONT WINDOW [the Nowhere] not far from me ON MY RIGHT. I pick up a thin black pump manual and start reading about another WACKO INVENTOR. The short paragraph I'm reading is in BOLD print, so I can focus on it better. I see the words "con man," but look again, and this changes to "thin man" or something nonsensical, which I take to be the inventor's nickname. I become lucid again [and am immediately aware of lying in my bed. I ask Whirly to help me because I don't know what to do. I decide to try and go back to sleep, which I am able to do.]
[The mindset of yesterday which led to this was of confidence, knowing I would unworld. The confidence was real, unforced. It came about as a result of Living in the Reality Check.]