Archive for the Dreams Category

Our House Is Multidemensional

Posted in Dreams on February 9, 2009 by polarbearface

“What then is time? If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks, I do not know.”

– Saint Augustine

 

I have no idea why we do the things we do, why we live the way we do, and how we continue to ignore our fears, our dreams, and yes, even our desires. When you cross into other worlds, other cycles of reality, you become a different thing. A different kind of animal. Not homo-sapien, but of the homo genus. And many times, when you return to the time portal in your house, you’ll have to dust off the cosmic dust that’s accumulated on your shoulders and face.

 

“Fair peace becomes men; ferocious anger belongs to beasts.”

– Ovid

 

Of what I can remember, it was the things that I saw, that made the most sense. There were 4 of us, and we were travelers through space and time, through the lowest astral planes an experience can give forth; our cosmic glowing dust was purple and thick, dark and powerful pictures of the human experience. But when you’re human, these things seem normal…it’s when you’re unhuman that these things appear to be very foreign, and seemingly very dangerous. When you’re unhuman, you believe in the colors, and speak in the language of interconnected imagery. You believe in the sounds; the chase. And although you are not human, you are still of primitive nature. And in this primitive nature, you seek wisdom from the earth.

 

“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.”

– Edvard Munch

 

When in this area of the transparent mind, often you will feel like battling a great force. This force is from within, and entangled with your experiences. But it is the unbalance of this force that makes you capable of moving through the worst…consequence and relation. Consequence from exerience, and relation to the reality of consequence. Because there is this unbalance, this duality, you are forced by nature, to confront the force. To deal with the force in your own unique manner.


“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”

– Robert Frost


Where is the now? You’ve awakened from your weary and long night traveling, and now you seek rest. Work wants you, people need you, life is demanding…but you are tired; the energy spent moving from one dimension to the other is a rigorous thing. Your friends are there, they have all returned, and become themselves once again. The journey has ended, and like wearing a nametag and uniform at work, you resume your roll as a human being. Until the next time, that is, when the ceremony  demands your presence.

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Dream Tea

Posted in Dreams on August 19, 2008 by polarbearface

Late Payments and the After Life Specials

I’d prefer to be finicky whilst going over and over in my head, the reality of the situation concerning last night’s dreams. There was death, love, anger, passion, cold, hot, paint, dad, and physical exertion. I have no psychic energy left today, and the August heat fever that runs deep into my brain stem is due for a break: much akin to the snapping sound of a bright green broccoli stock.

Is More Is Better!?

In this dream, there was a procession for the recently deceased: grandmother/son, both casualties of social warfare, being carried off in their respective coffin units by dear and at the time, fascinated loved ones. While walking away from it all, there was someone by my side, a red affair of the past, vibrant and caustic energy, the kind that bounces or turns into a fine crimson mist, the exact kind you would find in the deep boiling heart of a midday summer. This someone, was close, available, and full of a mysterious chance by which I could not ever fully gather, but that she did in fact, have a sort of motherly chance that bestows great curiosity within the nature of my heart.

Day Care 1984

As we walked outside into the sort pale gray light that only French and/or British people can understand, the green tubular legs of a gigantic elevated train system consumed us both in shadows, almost as dark as night. It was here, where I decided that being frantically emotional was a good way to start a conversation. And it was here, where the line of the dream suddenly became — awkward, and then, out of absolutely no coercing on my part – reversed itself. If not a wild tangent of the subconscious, then I don’t know what it was; perhaps, it’s my conscious way of saying to myself that the emotionally psychotic episode didn’t happen, and that I imagined it so, within the imagination of my dream. In either case, this particular reverie was entitled to some blustering explanation.

Beethoven’s 9th.

After this weird sort of dream-rejection, my brain was then sent back to right before my chaotic and emotionally charged outburst, and then chose a different setting, one of the blue sun, flashing slightly, and lightly upon the nape of my neck, a warm curling sensation that could just well have been a moment covered in cold feathers. I was then suspended by the magical puppetry of the dreamworld.

Alas, all was good, all was okay, the night and the day, remained unobstructed by the self-defeating turmoil that plagues even the greatest of human dreamers.

“It was at this point, that I realized, my friends were not really who they claimed to be…”

Soon, before and after a black flash, I somehow found myself driving alongside my father in a truck, in Houston, TX 1983. It was likely that I, nor my father, had really aged from our current ages, and we were frustrated because the color was all off, and everything looked like a spotty polaroid photograph. Again, the crimson haze that seemed to cover everything in the late 70’s and early 80’s was indeed driving both of us insane. And it was at this point, that in the corner of my eye, I saw myself painting a huge graffiti mural of a black bunny with 10-year old girl arms protruding from the ribcage of this mystical creature. While I was dumbfounded and concerned for my safety, my father began to scream wildly at Me, the delinquent, and I was somehow more worried about where I would end up in the moment, than the fact that the cosmic operations of the dream implied that I was in fact, a twin.

Note: In the dream world, you may teleport to wherever you want, and this can be done voluntarily or involuntarily (mostly it’s the latter).

When I came to, I was suddenly and fantastically engaged in an uphill struggle during a light summer rain, carrying a huge, matte black wardrobe, which caused me great strife what with all of the splinters. To my right, was a good friend of mine, who was also carrying a wardrobe, though made of some kind of oak, mahogany, some heavy type of wood found only in the homes of people that perhaps make 80K a year and enjoy owning real assets (not that he is this way at all, and on behalf of my subconscious, I would like to add that he is indeed a stand up, stalwart fellow, who should be knighted for his excellence in his quotidian activities).

Ass

It was at this moment, where I could no longer carry this huge, ridiculous burden uphill, and decided that it was in my best interest to toss this useless piece of furniture off the side of the hill (suddenly there was a side and I noted that it was time to move on); my long time friend and then-dream associate, concluded that what I had just done, was in fact a mysterious blunder, but not that serious. In the process, I broke my already broke sunglasses. This angered me, deeply, because they were only previously broken at one of the arms (which could have been fixed); but now, they were broken in half. Fully, and excitedly, I managed to wake up to the sound of a blaring alarm clock radio. It was grey outside, and my room felt like the shell of a long ghost. If you can understand what that means, then I commend you.