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Writer's pictureThad McKraken

Manufacturing Synchronicities in 4D (continued)

Updated: Nov 16, 2023




4/22/2023 -


Same scenario as last night, except that this time while calculatedly manipulating the world of some unknown 3 dimensional characters from a 4th dimensional perspective, my wife is looking over my shoulder. Same deal too with the looking through walls thing and same deal with it being an apartment complex where we're trying to line up synchronous plotlines. Except that my wife is being a ridiculous back seat gamer. She just keeps telling me what to do and I must stress, I'm not annoyed by this. As a matter of fact I encourage her. Like:


"Why don't you just play the game yourself!"


In waking life my wife does not touch video games so there's a layered metaphor going on. Since she's such a Star Trek nerd I think she'd really dig something like Mass Effect but I've never been able to get her to even watch me play it. Maybe I'll try with Starfield here. Not long after, in a liminal state I'm told that I've never had a director like me wife before. Just playing my role in the talking monkey shit show. But that's basically it, that's the dream. We're 4th dimensional holy spirit entities manipulating the realities of an apartment complex's inhabitants while staring through the walls X-Ray vision style. Typical shit.


Later I'm in a fancy pants old timey car in a modern city. I have some time to kill so I decide to fuck around on my phone in the car for a bit. Except that after doing this for a spell the ancient fantasy car starts driving itself. I'm genuinely annoyed by this but the next thing I know I'm in this crowded mess hall type sitch. My dog is running all over the place happy as hell and everything seems cool. There are crap tons of people here and we're just hanging out, eating unhealthy food, and shooting the shit. Then I go downstairs to take my dog to the vet but there's an enormous line. I almost bail but then I'm like, as long as I'm here I might as well just wait. Then I realize I didn't bring a sample of my dog's hair like I was supposed to so I leave anyway. That's it. That's the dream.


4/23/2023 -


I'm really staring to get the "It's not that you don't remember, it's that you can't understand" thing. My dog woke me up in the middle of this prolonged sleep state and I know I was having an extended dream but the only thing I could remember about it is that it involved super heroes strategizing and that I could fly. The plot should have been right there but my conscious mind simply couldn't piece any of it together at all. It's a very distinct feeling. I can track the generalized vibes but the intricacies of the story are simply beyond my comprehension when tied into a human skull.


In a stoned hypnagogic state I do have a series of compelling visions though. First I'm looking at this overview blueprint of an enormous corporate structure. I can't tell what sort of enterprise this is but it's like looking at an arty diagram of this huge unspecified corporation's entire business structure, but it's laid out like a diagram of a huge efficiently streamlined office complex. It then focuses out to this other institutional diagram just down the street.


I get the impression that this is some sort of quite limited government organization and what I'm being shown specifically is how the huge "super efficient" corporate model is directly creating all these other problems that then have to be dealt with by this other organization. They're using the metaphor of how these problems sort of bleed out into the street with the street map from above angle quite specifically. That's why they made that design choice. Very clever and I can somehow intuitively feel that for one, this isn't really this other organization's purpose and that two, as mentioned, it's doesn't really have the resources to properly deal with the issues this corporate monolith is creating in the first place.


I pull out of this vision with an obvious reaction, which is?


"What an absolutely bizarre thing to be dreaming about."


Also entirely accurate from what I understand about the back end of the corporate welfare state. The super rich are essentially leeches. Hyper-efficient blood thirsty leeches who have honestly fallen victim to some sort of genuinely freaky daemonic trance. None of this is happening by accident.





Now I'm showing up to some sort of business deal on this concrete bridge over a busy highway. This deal involves these two children, one of which is a blond girl wearing an 80's style pastel winter jacket, I'd say no more than 5. I'm handed this paperwork in an a beige file, composed entirely in red ink. I'm supposed to sign on the dotted line and complete the deal but what the fuck have I got myself involved with here? This sense of skeez pulls me into a liminal waking state but I can't get the image of the little blonde girl out of my head. What the hell was going on there? It continues to reverberate throughout my meditative states. I'm thinking of my wife and how she was briefly put into foster care, which she says was one of the worst moments of her life.


As I continue to journey inward focused on the image of the child I'm told to think about it as myself. When I do, I realize that for a while my parents would sometimes meet up halfway between White Salmon and Seattle to exchange my brother and I after my parents split up. We were super young and it's a memory that had escaped me for decades until something in my unconscious brought it up. I'm specifically being told to consider how much this divorce fucked with me as a wee kid. My crazy mom walked out on us. My wife got it even worse.


More to the point, we essentially pay corporations to drive people insane, then it's on the state to deal with them. My batshit mom e-mailed me about a Toni Robbins seminar the night before this dream. My wife's schizophrenic mom. My schizophrenic brother. All casualties of the great leeches and their unquenchable sucking. They sure are good at sucking.


Of course, going lucid in the waking world involves realizing how these visions are tied to the paltry confines of what we consider reality. While working out in the morning I watch a Lucky Hank episode about his failed suicide. Why'd he attempt suicide. Because his dad walked out on him as a kid. He was a decent amount older than me in this fictional scenario I might point out. Sort out your shit. Got it hive mind collective. Got it.












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