One small note before we get into our second edition of: One week in the dream life of a mystic.
I wasn't even considering it but in the first edition, I had in fact been sick so was spending more time sleeping/meditating that usual. The significance of this was pointed out to me quite specifically and right on. I've said it a million times, so few of us actually put any real effort into our psychic lives. Even I only really prioritize it when I'm not feeling well. Because of that, the intensity of last week's dreams were significantly ramped in comparison to this batch. I did in fact have at least one dream I remembered every single night though and a lot of them were in fact quite weird. Enjoy:
1/24/2023 -
I did not sleep very well but in the midst of not sleeping very well I did have one brief dream. In it, I'm looking at a classic Law & Order scene that my imagination is spontaneously writing. Jack McCoy has for some reason gone to Russia and is in a back room negotiation with a lawyer and his client. He suddenly stands up angrily and yells something to the effect of:
"Really? You're going to force me to help you with an extortion plot?"
He's pissed but seems to have no other option when activist District Attorney Nora Lewin pops out from the shadows and into the room from the door behind them.
"Not so fast!"
That's it. That's the dream.
1/25/2023 -
I'm briefly chatting with Richard Metzger and he recommends this obscure sci fi movie to me. I then leave the stylish office space we're chatting in and get on a bus to take a vacation in this film with several of the very normal type people I used to hang out with in college, but no one specific. As we're riding the bus everything outside seems very standard America city but then we get to destination and it's not at all. We're now in this arty sci fi environment that's very unique.
It honestly doesn't seem super futuristic outside of the fact that I have mechanical stilt legs that I can use if I choose, which I only do for a very brief period. Outside of that, it just looks cool but in a very distinct way. What's the best way I can describe it? The streets are seemingly comprised of bronze scrap metal and are for walking and not cars. No buildings are more than two stories. All of the architecture are these square, black metallic pod structures. This looks far more interesting than it sounds I suppose. There is definitely a beauty to it. The air is all sort of red and sparkly. Cosmic.
As for what happens here? Not a whole lot. Richard takes us shopping at some black metallic pod store and then we lose track of him. As I'm leaving the shop I'm realizing that a lot of the patrons are being given these all black retro Disinfo.com folders. I'm hanging out with some people from the early 2010's Seattle psych rock scene that I haven't seen in ages and at one point stay up very late consoling one of them. The next day these two women who I'm completely unfamiliar with gently mock me for looking super grizzly and like I'm wearing the same outfit I slept in, which I have to confess that I am.
And that's pretty much it. There didn't seem to much of a point to this dream other than exploring a very aesthetically unique sci fi corner of the astral plane that it honestly did not seem like I created. The one other thing I'd note is that I started this voyage with the sort of normal jockish dudes I hung out with in high school and college and once we got to the sci fi realm, it was nothing but artists. I'm sure there's a deeper meaning in that.
1/26/2023 -
I'm once again not sleeping very well and think, maybe I'm not going to have any dreams tonight. But then roughly an hour before I have to get up I finally get under and have the most ridiculous series of non-sequitur visions imaginable.
First I'm hanging out at a bar and some friend gifts me free tickets to a sporting event. I show up and realize they're front row seats to a Buckeye football game, albeit right in the back of the end zone. The Buckeyes are down but in the first play we witness, everyone thinks the play is dead even the runner, but no one blows the whistle so the dude runs like 70 yards untouched while no one pursues him. We're all confused until the refs confirm that it is in fact a touchdown. I look at the guy next to me and we both agree that we've never seen anything like this in a football game ever before. The Buckeyes then somehow get the ball back and immediately score.
The game is now tied but my perspective also shifts and I'm not even in a small completely different stadium but overlooking it from the top of a grassy hill. This is now a baseball game and the Buckeyes have taken it to extra innings. God, I do not feel like sticking around for this because it could go on forever. So I leave and now I'm hanging in like a dinning hall type bar drinking with a few other bros. As we're leaving one of them says something to the effect of:
"Well obviously you'd think that, you're a Buckeye fan."
To which I think, how did he know I was a Buckeye fan? I don't know this guy and I don't think I ever mentioned this to him. And with that thought I realize that he's decked head to toe in Miami Hurricanes gear and I'm wearing an Ohio State jersey. Okay then.
Now I'm at like a family event where there's going to be parties on 2 consecutive days, which I'm getting the impression is a wedding. We're in between events and staying in my Mom's old house on Beacon Hill. My brother gets up and walks into the kitchen super dressed up in a tweed vest and almost like Kangol style tweed hat. He also has a lush beard and he can't grow one in real life so I'm like:
"Damn dude, that beard looks good on you".
To which he responds:
"Oh, that's not a beard, I was just holding a piece of bread in front of my face."
And now the beard is gone. I also ask him if he always sleeps in dress shirts, hats, and tweed vests and he informs me that yes he does. None of this makes any sense.
I'm now in a breakfast pantry of some sort basking in the sun while eating crumpets when someone informs us that Jay Leno is swinging by and we're going to go help him run an errand. Okay then. So he shows up, we head out and he leaves us in a mostly empty parking lot. After a spell he emerges with two yellow birds, one in each hand.
"I had to go pick up some Cockatiels"
He informs us.
"My wife loves them!"
But he's handling them so carelessly that one immediately flies out of his hand and onto the hard blacktop of an empty parking spot. I go over to pick it up and whatever it is, it isn't a Cockatiel but some other type of tiny bright yellow and black spackled small bird.
"I had a few Cockatiels when I was kid. I love them!"
I reply and with this declaration hold the bird very close to my face to take in its beauty but I'm only partially telling the truth. I kind of hated those Cockatiels.
1/27/2023 -
I leave some sort of bar or event near the stadiums south of downtown and I'm completely disoriented. I need to get home but I can barely hold it together. I keep getting on buses but they're always the wrong bus, always taking me further and further away from home. Eventually I get on this bus up on Capitol Hill and seemingly pass out. I can tell it's taking me super far north in an altered state and when I finally get off I'm pissed. I'm in a more rural area, I know it's going to take forever to get home from here, and it's starting to get dark.
This is so unpleasant I immediately go lucid in the dream just to pull out of it. It's kind of intriguing that just in the last week, in tracking all of my dreams for the first time that I've noticed how often a super unpleasant situation makes me go lucid, but it's a different kind of lucidity. A "fuck this shit, I'm outta here!" kind of lucidity that isn't very helpful in terms of exploring the astral terrain. If I could harness that feeling and not immediately react, it might bear some compelling results. Noted.
So I pull out of this world reactively and am informed in a liminal state that the dream represents:
"PTSD"
That tracks and the more I'm tapped into the dark current of urban connectivity, the more I've been tuned into the increasingly dystopian homelessness situation. I get this a lot honestly. The bleakness is a part of all of us. I only hope that at some point I'm in a position where I can make some sort of difference. It's something to aspire to.
To hammer home the point I get back under and now I'm trying to navigate various family situations and am having trouble. The spirit world is metaphorical and that's the exact metaphor. I'm having trouble navigating basic family dynamics.
When I get up I do my typical bong rip iPod shuffle divination thing. I'm focusing on track #3 and what comes up? Our Disease by Breakbeat Era with it's refrain:
"Now that you suffer from our disease, do you understand me?"
This seems amazingly pertinent and I'm tempted to stop while I'm ahead but I have to see what the next track is.
Wow. Just wow. Honestly, when I pulled out of the first dream it seemed like I was just about to do exactly that i.e. fall asleep in some random person's lawn.
Roughly an hour later my wife is in a super pissy mood and I remember she suffers from complex PTSD as well. Fascinating.
1/28/2023 -
First I'm in a cringe-y situation where a boomer is creepily judging someone by their colorful sneakers and thinking that means they're trans. Seems about right. Then I start flying around my room looking at the time on all my clocks. They all say 2:30pm but I know it can't possibly be 2:30pm because I was just awake and it was like 7:30am. So that's why I'm flying around the room checking the clocks on all my devices.
Before I have much time to contemplate this I'm now on vacation with my family. We're in a phantasmal pacific northwestern hotel that I've been to quite a bit on the astral plane now that I'm thinking about it, but we've left and are continuing the rest of our trip in an RV. We all get up at like 9 in the morning by the side of the road in the mountains and our Dad is planning out the rest of our trip but I have to inform him.
"No, we're not going to be able to do all of that. This is our last whole day of vacation and we have to head home tomorrow because I have to go back to work. We only have time for one or two of those things."
Also, what are we going to do for breakfast? I'm starving. Oh, we have a bunch of leftovers. And with that I start putting together a plate of all these leftovers but they're just piled into all these various containers with seemingly no thought put into it whatsoever. I'm loading spaghetti onto my plate only to realize it was just thrown on top of apple pie in this almost like slop bag. I get the impression this is all waste from the meals we got at the hotel. But for some reason I can't put together a plate. I keep getting distracted before I can eat anything somehow.
One of these distractions is a day trip with my uncle. Our RV is now my ultra-crappy old blue band van which marks the second time that band van has showed up in my dream life in the last two weeks. Visual metaphors. Anyway, my uncle now goes buck wild and starts hopping the van through the mountains about as recklessly as humanly possible. When he does, my perspective now goes into first person video game mode and it's preposterous. He's like yelling:
"Do it, jump as high as you can!"
And I'm controlling this even though he is and doing it even though I really don't want to. Like we are just jumping off these mountain hill roads in the most ridiculous and spectacular fashion as he goads me on. I am horrified but at the same time admit that it's kind of fun and I suppose on a certain level understand that it's just a goddamn video game, which it very much feels like, particularly because I'm the first person perspective of the van. Not a person driving the van but it's like my eyes are in the hood of the van itself. It's the jump your van through the mountains game.
"Please stop!"
I beg him.
He doesn't, but we still make it to our destination, which is? A funeral. We're in a small town in a one story church conference room type situation. I get the vague impression us being here is only slightly awkward. Like, I guess my uncle sort of knows the deceased but I don't really. It's semi-OK that we showed up. That's just the vibe I get but hey, I never did get any food and there's a buffet. I start stockpiling my plate and it yet again is just like American slop. Nothing but grease and essentially every greasy American comfort food imaginable piled on top of each other.
I keep filling up my plate but every time I'm about to actually eat, something distracts me and I can't. Eventually it's like another funeral has come through the venue and now I absolutely know we're not supposed to be here. I try to get my uncle out but we accidentally wander into this room where there are all these Latinx people standing in calculated order having just entered a state of closed eye prayer.
The prayer leader sees us though and I awkwardly shrug at him like, sorry, but also realize this is my opportunity to quickly and quietly skip out the back door. I'm like a ninja. Fuck, that was actually lucky. No one but the prayer leader dude even saw me. Motherfucker was pretty clean looking honestly. Great hair.
Oh shit, but my uncle did not seize the moment like I did and is still caught in there. Whatever, I'm hungry and I lost my plate making that daring escape but I'm going to go grab some shit in the van. Except that now it's back to being an RV. Whatever, I'm going to finally get some eats in me while I wait for my uncle to do whatever the hell it is that he's doing. As I'm putting together another concoction of American slop from the RV leftovers I turn on some sports on the dashboard TV, only to eventually realize that my unconscious is apparently quite spontaneously inventing an entirely new sport because none of this shit looks familiar to me. Parts of it do. It's like a mash up that has more to do with soccer than anything else. The jersey and team graphic design concepts are freaking excellent, I will say that.
Realizing that I'm watching a sport that doesn't exist in the waking world almost makes me go lucid but instead there's a knock at the door. It's the lead prayer dude and he's more than irritated. All of the guests are complaining that we're here. I look out and I have my RV parked super close to where they're congregating and eating. I ask him if he knows where my uncle is but he has no idea what I'm talking about.
I get out of the van and quite conveniently run into him fairly quick. Whew. When we get back in the van I'm like:
"Wait. You just got that woman's phone number? So that's what this was all about?"
"I guess so."
He tells me. Then he makes some crude joke about how you need to bang as many as you can on the way out the door or something like that. I wish I could remember the exact wording there because it was utterly ridiculous. And then we're off. Back doing the jump your van through mountains thing except this time it's jump your RV through the mountains. I'm once again a living video game.
Now we're back to the hotel where my dad and brothers are staying. Except that when I show up I realize my uncle has some crazy scheme lined up where we have these guys hired to help us load something into the RV. I still haven't gotten my goddamn slop.
When I wake up and grok the fact that I have been trying to eat significantly healthier the metaphor definitely tracks. It was all pretty funny and basically had like a buddy comedy type feeling. Truth: It felt exactly like hanging out with this exact uncle, which I admittedly haven't done in a while. It was more over the top and ridiculous but they nailed the vibe quite precisely.
One more thing. At some point during the night I get very positive vibes on Jalen Hurts which brings up an interesting point. One way I've contemplated that my psi abilities could be directly translated into cold hard cash has been sports betting as I've gotten "insider" tips on multiple occasions over the years that could have paid off. This was well before sports betting was super accessible and legal. Now that it is, I have to take it a bit more seriously.
First I was given good vibes on Jalen Hurts, but does that mean the Eagles are going to cover the spread? As it turned out, in this case they absolutely did quite easily. Meaning that if I would have woken up on Sunday and put in a bet on the Eagles based solely on psi intel, it would have paid out. But should I be betting on them in the Super Bowl? Maybe they're just going to win but won't cover the spread. Was this intel just in regards to the conference championships or the whole shebang? Again, I've dealt with a lot of this over the years and it's never super easy to read as I've always gotten the impression that the future is somewhat unpredictable. On this occasion though, it was pretty direct and actionable. If you would have asked me to bet without this intel I would have been in coin flip territory straight up. Fuck if I know. The Niners had the best D in the league and the line was -2.5 Eagles.
1/29/2023 -
Same dream I've had a million times. I'm in The Invisible College and I'm taking this history class. The last time I was here I was introduced to this helper entity presenting itself as a fellow student. He's here this time as well and glowing slightly, which seems like either a new theme or one I just wasn't noticing before. Helper entities glow slightly to help you differentiate them from standard dream NPCs. We're going through the material with the white middle aged dark haired professor dude with black plastic glasses who's always teaching this class. He's apparently made this a fairly easy course so far and I'm entirely caught up. That is different.
I leave and am about to go to my English class with the brown haired middle aged white lady with dark hair and black plastic glasses but I remember that I decided I'm not taking that class again this quarter. The last time I was here I made the executive decision that fuck this shit, I've taken and passed that class a million times. Not again. I'll take the history class one more freaking time but not that one.
And that's what's sort of odd. The changes stuck. Last time I was here there was a helper student trying to assist me with passing my history class. There he is, helping me pass. I also decided I wasn't taking English again this quarter and remembered it this time, blowing it off completely before heading to the bus. I never even enrolled so I'm not actually skipping anything. The bus sitch is one thing that had me scratching my head when back in the skin world. This is basically Youngstown State. I did in fact go there for one whole quarter back in the mid 90's, but I did not once take the bus. For my entire college run I never took the bus regularly.
But in this scenario, that's the way it always is. I finish my classes and need to get back to work and so I head left over to the main drag in downtown Youngstown where I catch a bus home. Except that this bus has never actually taken me home. That's the dream.
As for history class, I've been told quite a bit that this is an incredibly insane time to be alive and that's why I'm here. Not in a good way either I must confess.
1/31/2023 -
In a call back to the dream from the night before, this time I'm at home and realize I'm supposed to be going to this history class in downtown Youngstown. But I haven't even left my room yet and I'm also supposed to be working from home. It's already 3pm and I can't just not work from home for that long in the middle of the day without anyone noticing. Can I?
But I'm pretty sure I was just told I'm supposed to be taking this class. Whatever, you can always skip at least one or two classes in a quarter I tell myself as I log into my computer to catch up with work. When I do I realize I've finally been given some "creative work" and with this realization my machine turns into a ridiculously huge and colorful sci fi computer with crazy buttons all over the place. Like a combination between a desktop computer and and old time-y cash register, but futuristic.
What is the "creative work" I've been given? I'm taking this green slime like substance from inside my mind and putting it into the machine. That's the work. Conjure up green slime internally and put it into the freakishly large art computer.
This all sounds nonsensical but in a way I'm starting to get that the school is on the astral plane and the work is my life. The only reason I can't sleep in has to do with my actual job. Metaphors within metaphors. I was told years ago that if my writing would have taken off years back like I wanted it to, I would have essentially abandoned my spiritual development. In listening to a recent interview with Grant Morrison I couldn't help but think they're entirely right about this.
Also, I can't create a better metaphor for trying to make algorithm friendly content that would potentially make that green without being slimy as hell.
What else, later while in a meditative state I'm watching a home made porno featuring Henry Rollins. His dick does not look like a soup can.
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