3/25/2023 -
In this scenario I'm my one brother and I'm playing this unbelievably weird surrealist racing video game. The best I can describe it would be that my entire consciousness is this arty map of urban highway infrastructure mixed with a cosmic clock that I'm viewing from above. I'm navigating through this MC Esher-esque labyrinthine highway/time map. Everything is laid on top of each other which makes it particularly confusing. I'm pretty sure I know the right move though so I take a 3 hard rights and slam on the gas.
When I do I know I've flown my car out of bounds and this is where it gets super otherworldly. Now, rather than being a perspective looking at the map, I'm now looking at myself from a side view and I'm peering down into my smart watch. The watch then sucks me into it and I'm flying through these cosmic clock urban sprawl highways at increasing speed, but sort of phasing through them on a downward trajectory. Then I rocket into my body and wake up. Again with the rocketing from a state of pure consciousness into a corporeal form with a jolt. That's like the 3rd time this week.
Anyway, later in the night I'm now investigating what went wrong with my brother's path through the space clock cyberpunk highway racing game world. It takes a minor amount of doing but I manage to track down the problem. He was supposed to make 3 hard lefts at this particular juncture rather than 3 rights. This doesn't make much sense on a surface level but I actually manage to get into his head at the time he made this decision. Only when seeing his mind state at the moment of the disqualifying turn do I fully understand why it happened and it makes sense. Somewhat questionable decision making for sure but I totally get it now.
Later I'm going to this very odd fancy party with my wife. It's super upscale with valet attendants and a huge screening/security process to vet guests. It's supposed to be a very particular kind of celebration. Like a party to celebrate a milestone in someone's life.
But holy fuck is it boring. I mean, we're all pretty much bored out of our minds from the jump. The thing very much seems like it's in a movie theater but with a huge buffet. Eventually they do show something on the screen and holy fuck is that also insanely boring. Almost no one is paying attention. At one point an announcement is made that there's plenty of food left so please feel free to go back and get seconds or thirds. Even though everyone seems pretty full already, they all get up and get more food out of sheer boredom. There are a lot of good eats and nothing to do.
Eventually I realize that both my wife and my family are all there and we learn that the party has to do with this incredibly weird achievement made by my wife's autistic father.
"That's what this is all about?"
I ask myself. Weird.
As I wake up back up, in a hypnagogic state I'm told that:
"This is very important work."
I've said it once, I'll say it again. It really does seem like I didn't choose Seattle but rather Seattle chose me. I somehow accidentally ended up with the same location as the majority of both my wife's family and my family. My wife never would have moved back here without me. My Dad's side of the family wasn't even here when I first moved so that wasn't part of the decision making at all. It is kind of fascinating how things work out. Nobody said sorcery is always glamorous.
3/26/2023 -
For the liminal bombardment portion of this evening's festivities I'm watching small sentient mist entities warping in and out of mind portals on the astral plane. In this situation the portals look somewhat aquatic. Always with the translucent portal action on the astral plane I must say. I of course know from prior experience that this represents yin energy beings altering the conscious decision making process of the talking monkey shit show with states of depression, anger, and fear. Why? Primarily for comedic purposes. All shit I've been shown before but the deluge of pretty psi graphics is a different spin on the concept.
Later in the night I'm forced to go to what comes across like a high end summer camp in the lower realms. My parents are forcing my hand here. This is required and honestly, it seems for most people to be a great opportunity. Just like most kids don't get $10,000 over seas study abroad type opportunities (I never did), most spectral denizens don't get these sort of opportunities either. There's a problem though, which involves the fact that I fucking hate it. I find this lower realm summer camp whatever it is to be the most absolutely boring horeshit imaginable. It's excruciating.
It's a week long commitment that starts on Monday. On Thursday we're traveling to the destination where Friday through Sunday are going to go down but it's Thursday morning and I'm pissed. I'm not pissed because we're changing locations, I'm pissed because I'm not even halfway through this bullshit and the first three days were the most painfully boring days of my life. Nobody else feels this way though. I even ask around and everyone other than me is excited. I don't get it..at all.
How are they not bored out of their fucking skulls like I am? My level of discomfort is in fact barely tolerable. I know I have to do this though so I get on the bus to the next locale but eventually the bus fades out and I'm back in my old basement apartment. The only thing of note in that whole old apartment tangent is that at one point I have an overstylized black puffer aviator jacket. Could I pull off that look in the waking world? It never would have occurred to me honestly but now I'm intrigued. Maybe that is the secret piece to my jacket game that's been missing.
Anyway though, man did these dreams mostly suck but at one point when I pulled out into hypnagogia I was informed:
"It's sensitive to boredom."
Goddamn I knew it. Weird hyper color alien beings like me don't deal with tedium well, which is why my waking life has devolved into the drollest of quotidian middle aged white people nonsense conceivable. They've been throwing it in my face. None of this was accidental. It was and always has been a form of calculated torture but it also means that the exact things I judge myself for the harshest are my most triumphant victories as the sorcerer king of slackers. They're not going to break me, as a matter of fact, since I'm on thyroid medication, the tedium doesn't feel as excruciating any more.
More to the point, I was told specifically that this post should include last night's night's dream and now I totally get it. My brother. I had to get into his head to understand where he went wrong with the cosmic clock surrealist racing game. This is where. The waking world must seem 1000 times more excruciatingly dull to him. As much as it sucks, I actually have the ability to gel with it in a way he never has or will. This is the pain of being neuro-divergent schizotypical living with a head stuck running away in a monotonous clockwork realm of goddamn robot people.
And therein lies the answer to the environmental crisis. Mysticism: it makes everything the physical world has to offer seem mind numbingly drab. The less we obsess over it, the more stable it becomes. We need new hobbies. You too can resent the feeble limitations of the being awake. Problem solved.
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