2017-10-18 4:00 am
The Dream Map is progressing to the point where I see it's wrong to put stuff like [Mouse my intuition body], [the Silent Companion], [the Urumara], [the Tunnel], etc. into [brackets,] as if I have to apologize for my own belief system and set off my beliefs from my memories somehow in my own dream journal. As if my own conscious mind's belief system is an intrusion somehow. I am not seeking absolute facts or doing science as such, I am constructing a belief system that will get me where I want to go: a map that gets results. I don't have to keep apologizing for the fact that these things could be personal interpretations because, what the heck, they are personal experiences, no? and that just creates doubts due to the plastic and reflective nature of the unworlding environment. When I encounter a dream object, place, person, or event, these Dream Nouns are volatile; they're made of awareness, they're manufactured by my paying Attention to them. They are automatically and reflexively imbued with the energy that I feed them. Simply put, a Dream Noun knows that it has no absolute identity or existence and if it knows that its ident or symbolic interpretation will be put into [The Brackets of Apology] later when I write the experience down, then why should my experience take itself seriously now? Our dream bodies cooperate with our expectations, they give us what we secretly want aside from what we claim to want or what we imagine that we want. So I should more overtly expect my beliefs to be real, and I should stop pussyfooting around. Because when I'm writing it down, that's also a dream! Life is a dream within a dream within a dream... We only mistake life for a contiguous single series of events by glossing over the details and ignoring evidence to the contrary. So if--in Life Dream Consciousness or the Lifestream--I've decided that something is definitely on the map, then it sends a clear signal to the MAP, which has growing awareness of its own, to turn up the lights and spring to life and start showing me the way from within the dream itself.
[Added note: as the next few days of continuously batting my head against the Urumara proceed, there is a gradual application of the above new journalling attitude into practice. It wasn't easy, because some part of me wants to hold back and write something that Typicals will easily be able to understand... but... this wasn't written for an audience, it was written to further my practice. My practice right now and for the past year or so is all about experiencing the transit through the Urumara with full consciousness. Writing for an audience out of consideration for the fact that they might disagree with my belief system has been holding me back. And when I encounter stubbornly rigid realists in the OBE community who refuse to make progress because they refuse to set foot anywhere that smells unfamiliar to them, this just supermotivates me to charge ahead into the unverifiable, which is the home of altered states of reality. --ed. Oct. 26]
2017-10-18 5:15 am
[Back to bed after writing a chapter... yeah right, no sleep for the weary, it's time to wake up.]
[To bed. Four bottles of beer in four hours at Orion's first birthday party.]
With Prunesquallor and Joybroth, one is asking at the Church about whether there's anyone who can play PIANO for us so we can SING, but the pastor [SC] doesn't think he can help us.
We're upstairs getting ready to sing anyway. It's Joybroth's church. He's used their facilities before, which include a large canister of LAUGHING GAS in the closet which is manually pumped into the user by himself with a plunger pump. I notice Joybroth has a tendency to overindulge, so I do his pumping for him. I only pump one stroke for him, which is less than he wants, but I'm being strict. I noticed that when someone else is using it, I can smell it, which is a matter for concern and I find it interesting. It smells chemically like plastic, like a newly unpacked shower curtain or toy inner tube like kids use at the swimming pool, the same smell but like it's burning or melting too. [When I woke I still smelled this, but it's faded now. Hope the house isn't burning down. PS: smelled it for a wee whiff while typing this many days later too.]
[Back to bed, took headache medicine but have no hangover medicine--no Excedrin Extra Strength, i.e. nothing with caffeine in it.]
2017-10-19 4:00 am
[fragment:] Pour water on the frog.
[False awakening] I'm woken up in my apartment on the steep slope of a tropical paradise by Gio wanting me to teach him English. I'm trying to decide where we should sit.
I'm in an apartment where I live with KK [SC]. It's an abandoned triplex in a long, low building. We've taken over the apartment on the RIGHT. I have a tiny sketch of the place's floor plan, which I'm looking at. It's printed on heavy, glossy, pale YELLOW paper. There is an L-shape involved somehow.
We learn that someone has bought the triplex and will be moving in, so I'm mulling over the work involved in packing, thinking about how hard it will be, and how long it will take. I decide NOT TO WORRY ABOUT IT. ["Moving" represents going into altered or unfamiliar states of mind semi-permanently. Deciding to not get emotional about it is a sign that it might actually be possible.]
I'm showing KK our various couches and chairs including a bright shiny YELLOW-colored couch in nice condition though old. [Places to sit are more transiently-experienced states of awareness.]
I realize while saying it out loud that the yellow couch is OFF LIMITS [the Urumara] and that's why it has a DARK GREEN CURTAIN hanging in front of it. It's the property of the new owners [the Uppers]. I take SC to a back room while vaguely realizing the room is a confabulation since it was not in the floor plan. These are studio apartments with no bedrooms. I show her another yellow couch--L-shaped--that is ours to use, but its cover is practically torn off of it. There's a RECLINER also, and we HAVE TO MOVE all the furniture around.
[Gold shiny yellow, floor plans & furniture arrangements = 4ness; green, moving = the Nowhere, 5ness.]
The apartment itself exudes FAMILIARITY and I am quite fond of it while aware that I must leave it behind [strip the 234--the Triplex--of its monopoly on my energy].
I wake up in the same apartment because a young woman has come in to repair my telephone, which is mounted on the wall next to the recliner. She's petite and serious, tightly wound. Dark hair pulled back severely into a pony tail, pointed nose and receding chin, BLUE and white pants-suit uniform [Mouse]. She's been sent to upgrade my phone. She doesn't want to talk, which disappoints me, so I follow her outside [the Urumara].
A voice that seems to come from me and from someone else [Mouse and I have merged and/or we're communicating telepathically] asks if [whoever is being addressed] knows what is up over the hill, the long ridge that tops off just behind the triplex. I see that behind the triplex, which is built near the top of a SLOPE, is a straight ridgetop peak--a long, straight DIKE of disturbed earth. My CURIOSITY IS HIGHLY AROUSED and my attention is drawn to WONDER what could be past that ridge top.
Camels! Camels, camels, lots of camels coming down the slope past my front yard! And elephants too! All dressed in exotic RED cloth embroidered in shiny YELLOW thread! Wow, what a sight! This is a big thrill. A person doesn't see something like this come down from up over the hill but once in a lifetime, it's almost as if I were dreaming! In fact the only thing that's unfortunate in this amazing experience is that I'm not dreaming, but real life can get pretty interesting sometimes too. The thronging, massive, wall-to-wall herd of gaudily adorned camels and elephants is making its way down the hill and as they come level with where I stand and start down, I catch the eye of two elephants in particular [Nitpicker and Potwatcher] and they head my way without hesitation. This throws me into a bit of a panic, not because I'm afraid for my safety, but because I'm afraid for theirs. There are some big holes [the Urumara] in my front yard just about elephant size, and I'm afraid the elephants will fall in the holes and get stuck. I shout to the handlers [SC], "Naay bangag!" ["There's a hole!"]
[The Urumara. I've woken up repeatedly with constant near-cramps in feet and calves for the last few hours of sleep and had to get out of bed a couple times to walk them off. I recalled the part about the apartment easily, but recalled the second False Awakening with Mouse less readily, and didn't remember the LUCID moment when the herd of camels suddenly appeared until I sat down and picked up my pen to record the other parts of the dream. That's what's wrong with not keeping a journal: picking up the pen triggers a flood of memories, as if the dream bodies are testing our level of interest and not giving us what we don't care to know.]
[Every experience is dreaming and all dreams are lucid.]
[Trying the kundalini breath, first time. This is the same as the Buzz Breath, but in bed, kneeling and rising up with the inhale, going down on the heels with the exhale, and finally after a certain number of breath cycles, exhaling and putting the head back and lying back on a bunch of pillows with the intention of having a Little Sleep.]
[The Magic Bullet Technique
1. Try to go to sleep in seconds.2. Do not go to sleep deeply.3. Means of doing this include: a. Breathing more air than you want. b. Exhaustion not due to boredom but due to focused activity. c. Strong desire to confront the fear of death and insanity and put these fears in their place. d. Stop the internal dialog. e. Be aware of thoughts incongruent to typical logical physical reality thought process. f. Starting from a panoramic viewpoint, join an aural awareness of all that you can hear, inside and out, then tactile sensations, same thing. When you can see/hear/feel all at the same time, be aware of the moment when all sensations become one indivisible field of perception. That is the Nowhere.]
2017-10-20 3:30 am
Wanting to buy a BASKETBALL RING [the Urumara] for T., I PARK THE CAR in a tiny town and have to go into an ALLEYWAY to do that [the Tunnel]. I pass my 'Aikido teacher' [a little guy with big muscles, looks like my 9th grade health class teacher] who acts like a bully [the Dream Usher]. An old woman gushes about him [Old Hag, also the Dream Usher].
2017-10-20 5:00 am
"Riding the Urumara"
At the Elementary School, I am Limberluck and all the little cherubs are following me everywhere. This amounts to my leading an open rebellion, which doesn't bother me much. I'm aware of the potential for dirty looks from teachers and such in a general way, but somehow I manage to stay two steps ahead of the authorities who would stifle my spontaneity.
As I proceed down the Tunnel--a dark school corridor--I end up STRETCHING OUT ON MY BACK on a bamboo railing i.e. the Urumara that stretches along the LEFT side of the Tunnel. I'm able to ADJUST MY ENERGY in such a way that I can slide on my back on the top rail while PRETENDING TO BE ASLEEP. This is a bit of showing off on my part, but as usual the performance of me as Limberluck is for my own enjoyment, I don't care who's watching or not, but it takes some skill to lie on my back on the top rail and slide--i.e. fly--without falling off [to sleep].
I stand up and open my eyes only to learn that I've destroyed the stout bamboo rails that comprise the section of FENCE I was sliding on. I briefly WONDER how much trouble I'm in, but SHRUG THAT OFF.
I can hear Mrs. Sievert [my 6th grade teacher] coming this way and somehow I seem to have caused a flood, or is it a flood of cherubs/followers/lost boys. I wade through the flood of swarming energy forms and escape UP A SET OF GRAY CONCRETE STAIRS to the outside, morphing through the Urumara to the Projection Room or back into the Tunnel.
Once through the Urumara, the Dream Police i.e. the Dream Usher with the assistance of Nitpicker and Potwatcher--my 5ness and 4ness dream bodies merging into a single force--are waiting for me. It's dark and they're dressed in red and black and dealing with some sort of confrontation involving pistols.
[The transition to a more confident "assume the sale" type of unworlding journal has begun. I will no longer apologetically hold back from recording the Urumara as what it is, the Silent Companion as what it is, the Tunnel as what it is, etc. There is some reluctance but this is the Voice of Idiossification trying to cling to physicality. If I am wrong, no one is going to suffer for it, and if I'm right, the technique of merging so-called waking and sleeping realities is the methodology that will provide the key to highly resistant cases getting unworlded consistently: assuming that unworlding has already taken place--maybe at birth?--that unworlding is a constant of existence, that unworlding is the natural state and not some aberration that we must force ourselves to somehow experience by the hair of our chinny-chin-chins.]
2017-10-21 1:45 pm
[At a basketball game. Breathing. Suction of Sleep.]
[AWK1] [Phantom wiggle of both arms.]
[AWK2] [Phantom wiggle of both arms.]
[To bed. At basketball games all day, lots of waiting/Blaffinveigle time, lots of merging with the Unworld. Noticing, etc. HINT: I'm already dreaming and I'm already lucid.]
[Unworlding is a tweaking of a few knobs, that's all.]
Getting ready to chop down a good-sized tree in Neyong's STEEP back yard, but I decide I should leave it for him to do and NOT GET INVOLVED, in order to not piss him off. [Again eschewing melodrama and choosing to not invoke emotional reactions, i.e. not going the way of the shots of interpersonal adrenalin which are deadly to the practice.]
Breeze--long, dark dream all forgotten.
Some weird man [the Dream Usher] has painted a wall [the Nowhere] ugly GREENISH YELLOW very badly, but I guess that's how professionals do things in order to make a profit. [4ness merging with 5ness.]
2017-10-22 12:50 am
"Is there a Reason Why I'm Making You Nervous?"
I'm demonstrating to my Silent Companion [who I mistake for Breeze] how to get to the Nowhere [which I mistake for Breeze's house]. I direct our VEHICLE down the Tunnel which I mistake for a straight, narrow, asphalt road at night. The road is very STEEP and it's so DARK I literally can't see a thing [the Nowhere]. There's actually no vehicle except the Attention and my Attention has appendages to either side of me which I mistake for arms with grabbers at their ends which I mistake for hands. As we go faster and faster, I attempt to RETAIN SOME CONTROL of our speed and direction by grabbing the raised edges of the thick asphalt which barely slows us down because the Urumara which I mistake for a steep slope is so incredibly steep, an undeniable generator of acceleration and momentum. At one point it goes from being almost dark and very steep to PITCH BLACK AND NEARLY VERTICAL, at which point I say to Silent Companion, This is where it gets real scary. The experience is extremely intense, but I manage to RETAIN CONTROL of my Attention through the whole descent, at all times aware of the difficulty of doing this while gritting my teeth so to speak and not giving up or giving in to panic or losing consciousness.
The long, steep descent through total 3D blackness has finally ended, so I open my eyes to find out where I am. I've landed in somone's tiny back yard! I'm hemmed into a yard by what seems to be high hedges and netting, but I'm really in the Green Room and I need to proceed through the Urumara again to get to the Unworld, but I mistake the Nowhere for hedges and big windows and netting and such. I don't know whose yard this supposedly is, but I can see images and hear aurages of people talking together, which is my Soul Retinue, but I mistake it for a social gathering. I see through the Nowhere which I mistake for big glass windows or sliding glass doors. I telepathically send a distress signal to my remote mind--the people inside the next place--saying I just "need to escape" since I "DON'T KNOW HOW I GOT HERE" and I mistake them for neighbors of the owners of the place where I've landed. They respond out loud, "We have guests in here," so I keep searching for the Urumara, thinking that I need to find a door.
A garden gate or doorway obligingly appears facing to the RIGHT at an inset in the fence or wall or hedge which is really the Urumara. The Dream Usher appears with his hair swept straight back as usual. He has the appearance of a young businessman with thick, dark brown hair. I treat him with suspicion as usual by pushing the blond-wood door further open when he cracks it open to see what I want. My fist is upraised and I push the DOOR open with my forearm. My arm appears muscular and determined if not downright strong, but somewhat hostile.
I ask the Dream Usher, "Is there a reason why I'm making you nervous?" and he responds with a question, "Why?" and I escape through the Urumara with full consciousness as I reply, "Just curious." [Which is a reference to Metsuke or as Kepple put it, "Mild curiosity."]
I am Limberluck wearing my GREEN COVERALLS WALKING DOWN THE MIDDLE OF THE Tunnel which I mistake for a level ASPHALT ROAD. The way I travel is the Nowhere, but I see it as a narrow asphalt road dotted with tiny white flowers which have fallen all over it. The surface seems wet and I'm barely aware of the feet I don't have and not aware of any shoes at all, so while I'm walking, I lift one foot at a time and roll up the tattered cuffs of my coveralls so they won't get wet, not Noticing that it's not necessary to hop on one foot while the other foot is in the air [i.e. both supposed feet are in the air at the same time because I never set the first one back down.] Inertia reverts my configuration to the usual notion of waking up in bed with the Voice of Idiossification telling me the dream was of no importance and could just be forgotten, because it was no big deal and I could just write it down in the morning. [I force myself out of bed, remembering that my Intent Agenda tonight included Just Stand Up.]
[Monroe's focus levels were just the distraction tactics of a great magician and TMI was just his day job. Starting corporations was his hobby. His real passion, mission and message was the new terminology of his bookFar Journeys. He was an anthropologist of the Unworld, demonstrating the mapping process that eventually taught him the Quick Switch. Added note: His mapping activity taught him the Quick Switch, but we get hung up on the map and forget where he was going with it, where he ended up. His message: Forget my generically-named focus levels, and map your own way there. Only by personalizing the path will you ever get where you claim you want to get. --ed.]
[Back to bed.]
Had another experience of the Urumara, this time as a SPIRAL RAMP with RAILINGS on both sides and lined with CHILDREN IN BRIGHTLY COLORED CLOTHES, daytime. When I reach a certain stretch on the acceleration through the Urumara--the ramp--a small tomboy with blonde hair and a bright YELLOW sweatshirt, who is Mouse, puts up her leg which blocks my way and I Vroombellerate back to the Daydream of waking in a bed.
[Back to bed.]
[While Noticing images, I see a spinning red ball, so I start up the Beanpole. I get to the row of books in the Library where I take out a book and look at it, and when I do, all I see is a six-pointed star of short purple rods with lengthwise striations and a rectangular cross-section. I realize this image is on the left page of a book, or is supposed to be, but then I pull a Quick Switch.] Nitpicker and Potwatcher are there, dressed all in RED, asking me how they're doing. [I Vroombellerate back to the notion that I am waking in a bed--the Dayly Dreame.]
[Back to bed.]
[AWK] "...the same kind of reincarnation--unhappy--as..."
[Fed dogs, removed a bone that had been stuck in Lila's mouth all night, took an emergency dump, and had a small budgetary conference with wife. Oddly enough, was not able to sleep after all that.]
[To bed for WILD session.]
[Moving to dream bed. Loud music next door. Will focus on the knowledge that the only thing between me and lucid unworlding is nothing.]
2017-10-23 12:30 am
I put a bomb in a cardboard box looking wrapped so that whoever opens it up will get blown up and T. starts to open it up. I stop him in the nick of time.
At the airport, a bomb is packed into a suitcase in the same way. I open the suitcase on the hunch that the bomb is not rigged that way and I was right. I carry the open suitcase to the authorities to show them it was a false alarm.
Kay, weedeater violence.
Roommates/housemates, dealer, chronic user, no sharing. Postal Center, Mr. Murray.
Phone, J.'s bro, studio. "English is a good language, I like it." PINK wine.
Thin, dark gray worms in 'scampi' (big breaded prawns). I ask Eddie about the worms and he says not to worry, they're normal in this kind of food, but I can't imagine eating them, they're alive and wiggling around. I ask if the worms--which keep getting longer and longer--become big cockroaches by curling up inside the roach's exoskeleton.
[To bed. Try to remember that all experience is dreaming and lucidity is just paying Attention.]
A group of us have a project to do involving the eating of the largest of us, a man with dark hair. We dig into his shoulders. I stop the experience, it is too unpleasant.
PILOT IN FOR A LANDING WILL SHOW VARIOUS SKILLS. We put a big sketch pad propped up in front of the house so he'll know we did our homework. He FLIES DOWN TO STREET LEVEL, STOPS MID-AIR, and says, How will I do this, then ACCELERATES ONTO THE ROAD that goes past the house. NIGHT, BIG WOODEN FARMHOUSE.
[To bed for Vac-U-Move session.]
[To dream bed.]
2017-10-25 12:30 am
[Got up to work on my website.]
[Back to bed, dream bed, not sleepy.]
An incredible experience where I met interesting facets of myself as human but semi-participatory humans like myself who had insisted on and finally been granted the freedom to be themselves.
I encounter a man with long dark hair who wears his hair standing straight up. He has a small moustache and looks like Salvadore Dali. He wears a suit and has a small office which Silent Companion informs me is really a pseudo-office because he has no work or duties, he has the status of a mascot, he is tolerated as a benign and entertaining presence and no one minds having him around.
I confirm these details with Silent Companion who I think is my dad and then I suddenly remember another person like this who also qualifies as a living circus act and I tell him that he knows her since she too has an office in his building. As I start to describe her, he informs me that he does in fact know her and I merge with him and now I'm encountering the daughter and grand-daughter of this woman who has a name like Doll-Doll, a big fat blonde granny in a PINK crocheted bikini with a very open weave. The two younger women are relaxing on a SMALL BED. They are serious and dark-haired, not like Doll-Doll who is an old showgirl like a female pretending to be a drag queen, whose middle-aged daughter might be making a play for me. I communicate that I don't know how Doll-Doll got to be so WELL-KNOWN, and the granddaughter informs me that she does know how. She produces a book which Doll-Doll had passed around as a way of publicizing herself. Her act is her life, she is Doll-Doll everywhere she goes.
The book is new and glossy, a hardback photo book like Time-Life used to put out, wrapped in a slick paper flyleaf.
Looking at the pictures transports me to the presence of Doll-Doll at her favorite oceanside spot. It's a beach that turns to brown JASPER as it approaches the water. [Jasper is a very hard and very common gemstone that is always very smooth when it breaks and because it is so hard, it has to be severely weathered in order to become pitted enough to be rough or dull.] The small jasper cliffs extend from the elevated beach down into the water. The woman has a routine of coating her body in lotion under the PINK crocheted bikini and going into the water to rinse it off through the open weave of the crocheted yarn. She skips down the step-like terraced cliff like she's done it a thousand times. Realizing that she has in fact done it a thousand times, I lose my fear of the jagged cliffs which are as sharp as a razor, like the arrowheads that jasper was once used to make, and I follow her down the short natural stairway into the water. I see she has already gone far out into the shallows. As my body touches the pristine, perfectly clean, pure, fresh water, I am astounded by the scenery. It's nearing sunset and Doll Doll is just a receding pink blob on the horizon, at the end of the Tunnel. I am gazing out through a sort of Tunnel formed by short cliffs on either side, big boulders of jasper really. The whole ocean bottom has not a grain of sand, it is perfectly clean jasper all the way out, and perfectly clear water. The jasper is formed in rolling waves undulating in parallel rows (parallel to the shore) so that the water alternates from a few feet deep to a few inches deep, with the jasper waves about six-to-eight feet apart. Besides that, the jasper is in two alternating discrete colors of brown, in humped stripes volcanically welded together perfectly, extending as shallow ridges at right angles to the undulations of its form. These ridges and waves are regular in a way that is beautiful and natural, it doesn't look machine made at all in spite of the purity of the design and its regularity.
As the incredible beauty of this vista stops me in my tracks, I exclaim, "Oh my God!" and for a second I am in ecstasy, then in the Nowhere vibrating in my bed.
[Breathwalking. Ran into T. and J. on their way home so cut it short to show T. his new basketball shoes, for which he thanked me and hugged me a dozen times.]
[To bed for a Vac-U-Move session.]
[To dream bed.]
[It finally Happened! The urum and the mara in the same experience!]
[I went to bed about 8:05 while T. finished watching a movie. It was a big day for him: the elementary school team--of which he is the smallest member--won a big basketball tournament, and when he got home, his first Lazada.com online shopping delivery--new basketball shoes--had arrived. And to top it off, his father (I) had watched every minute of every one of his basketball games in spite of having other things to do and barely enough money to go to town and do it. Of course his mother was still being a pain in the butt and when she came upstairs and found he'd started a second movie instead of joining me in the family bed, where all three of us have always slept, she got kinda intense and he got kinda intense back and I managed to stay out of it about 95%, retaining the equanimity I value and cherish because without it I will never get unworlded.]
[I had a coughing fit due to eating peanut butter before bed, but drank some water and got a hanky and went back to bed. Cancelled plans to try a Vac-U-Move session because I was exhausted and overfed (didn't yet know I had food poisoning) and had just had my plans for tomorrow changed when I learned that my presence would be desired at T.'s recital tomorrow when he will represent Yemen in the U.N. by wearing a Yemeni costume that cost me a pretty penny and... I decided to retain my equanimity over that too. My dad skipped most of my childhood and then dogged my adulthood begging for forgiveness, so who am I to say "I have work to do" on a website about dreaming. He's only gonna be a child once... hopefully.]
[AWK] Woke into a Projection Room experience of a dark place where it is snowing [the Nowhere]. Incredibly spontaneous, detailed, realistic scene which disappears when I pay too much attention to it. I'm able to get it back briefly.
[At 10:50 pm T. and J. were asleep so I slipped out to the dream bed, determined that due to lack of sleep yesterday and other factors I should go to sleep right away but wasn't sure how easy that was gonna be. After only five minutes of unconscious sleep I had a dark Tunnel dream which I groped and clawed my way out of, due to typical intruder panic, lucidly experiencing true sleep paralysis with physical body awareness with 100% consciousness for the first time in my life, as far as I can remember.]
[At one time some months ago I had been planning to write a discrete book called Unworlding, and a sequel called The Urumara was going to conclude with my first conscious entry into the transition zone, the Urumara, which I hadn't had yet. I've meanwhile changed my plans to just building an ongoing bloglike collection of chapters called unworlding.com, but what just happened to me after five minutes of sleep would have been a good ending for that sequel called The Urumara, and I am now encouraged that I will find the ability to experience that transition zone and its famed paralysis on a more routine basis instead of as a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I was not lying on my back as far as I know. I honestly can't say for sure, but I know I'd gone to sleep on my right side with slightly restless legs and a minor chest pain due to working in a chair too much and not getting any exercise (and food poisoning...): always trying to finish the framework of this website, every day slaving away at it.]
[I will continue my new practice of including mentions of the Tunnel, the Urumara, the Projection Room, the Nowhere, the Dream Usher, the Silent Companion, and other unworlding phenomena that I am now totally comfortable with, in the main body of the journal posting itself instead of setting it apart as a [comment in brackets]. The reason I'm doing this is not for scientific accuracy, but to send the same message to my remote mind that dream journalling itself sends: this stuff is real, it is important, and I have nothing to apologize for.]
[Finally before I start the dream narrative itself, a quick reminder of where the word urumara came from. The word urum comes from a Visayan word that refers to a dream in which you can't move or call for help; in other words, conscious sleep paralysis in the dream state, either lucid or non-lucid. The word mara is also the root for the second part of the English word "nightmare" and refers to the Old Hag Syndrome or conscious sleep paralysis when you know you're lying in your bed but you're sure you're awake. So urum and mara are not opposites, but the same thing, on opposite sides of a very small place: the exact moment of transition from sleeping to waking or from waking to sleeping, a very slippery slope as I experienced in repeated unworldings recorded above.]
[Recall that this took place after a single sleep cycle, a short wake-back-to-bed session and maybe about five minutes of sleep at most. A large proportion of my most recent milestone experiences have taken place after only one sleep cycle or less than one cycle. Which supports my recommendation that the lucidity nazis stop telling people to never do practices at bedtime. Dictating gotta-do's on the basis of statistical tendencies doesn't work because individuals do not follow statistical tendencies and they would never know that--and never have any experiences--if they were more obedient than I am.]
[I am wearing my lucidity hat because I worked and waited so long to have this milestone experience.]
In the Nowhere, which I mistake as nighttime out on the lawn in front of the BIG WOODEN FARMHOUSE. The Silent Companion, who I mistake for one of T.'s friends, a ten-year-old boy, is lingering in front of the house. A feminine presence which I assume to be the boy's mother calls him to come home, from a house two doors down. I find this annoying and while the boy ignores the call, I respond loudly so she will hear, indicating that her request is unreasonable at this time. By thus representing SC in this way, I merge with him.
I'm in a small old-fashioned Army-issue brown canvas pup tent that's pitched in the side yard for the children's enjoyment. [The small single bed I'm half asleep in is surrounded by a mosquito net. The brown tent is the same color as one of the colors of the jasper beach I was unworlded at the other night. The big wooden farmhouse is also a recently visited place.] The yard itself is unfenced, it's just plain flat lawn, or I should say the Nowhere posing as a lawn, and going into the tent constitutes entering the Projection Room from the Nowhere-at-large, bypassing the Urumara into the Green Room which is in the end of the Tunnel, where dreaming is very close to physical awareness, intensely dark and distinctly non-visual, driven by thoughts and impressions more than by visual events.
Someone is outside the tent, I assume it's my wife J. I can hear her walking and boy is this annoying, I had just gotten off to sleep. I try to tell her to leave me alone and stop bothering me, but I can't talk! I want to poke her through the wall of the tent but I am shocked that I also can't move. Instantly I become aware that I am finally experiencing conscious sleep paralysis, but due to the fact that I'm half in the dream scene and still quite positive that an intruder lurks outside my tent/mosquito net, I am distracted from willing myself to roll out or float out, and I forget to lie still and shoot for vibrations or images or anything else. The only visual sense is the light brown or Army drab void, the Nowhere. I stab at the air with arms that won't move and only realize a few moments later that my dream body's arms did move while my physical arms were the only ones that were stuck.
Confusion reigns supreme but I am ecstatically lucid in spite of not having a good plan as to how to proceed. Since I apparently thought I would never really experience conscious sleep paralysis, and even suspected that I am immune to it altogether, I had no plan of what to do in such a case other than to explore it; a plan that was too vague. The fact that I did not panic in terror, but enjoyed being paralyzed, led to the quick dissolution of the state. I'd say the experience lasted no more than half a minute or so since I didn't fight against the paralysis after I realized no one including my wife was intruding on me in a tent on a dark spooky night outside an old wooden farmhouse. Soon I could feel my body lying in the bed and the paralysis was gone in seconds. In less than a minute I could feel the memory covering itself over somehow, so I forced myself out of bed to write this down.
[My intention is to now go back to the dream bed and go back to sleep and come what may. I've been doing extended meditations all week since I've been away from the computer in town at basketball tournaments and only every other game was interesting to me so I used this as an opportunity to practice every kind of Blaffinveigle I could think of. This has resulted in two ecstatic dreams--one for each two-day tournament (meditation marathon) that I've attended--and now this: the urum and the mara in one experience.]
2017-10-26 1:30 am
[Back to dream bed. Have food poisoning from eating old cucumbers in an otherwise tasty grilled pork salad at a sleazy dump in town. Hope I don't fart in my sleep.]
[A number of experiences have pointed at this sort of thing. I've had plenty of urum dreams throughout my life. What was special about this was that I transitioned much more slowly into waking and was able to really have an experience of the paralysis instead of just struggling against it in a nearly non-lucid condition. There is a lot more to come, this is just the beginning.]