Archive for Prose & Poetry

Psychodelic Tunnel

I finally had another dream that was interesting enough to share. Well, that’s not entirely true, I have other interesting dreams, but this one really stood out from the rest.

The details are a bit hazy now, but it just seems to start with me sliding through this colorful tunnel. At times I was floating rather than sliding, as the tunnel turned, sometimes vertical, sometimes angled.

The details of this tunnel were amazing. Like millions of different multicolored twinkling, gleaming gems. As I traveled through it there were other travelers as well. They all seemed to know what this place was, not lost and confused like I was. I was searching for a way out and I felt like they knew, but weren’t telling me. One person finally said something about needing the key. I went on traveling for what felt like a long time and I came upon this flying gem made of many colors.

I wasn’t sliding or floating anymore, but crawling, trying to reach out to this gem key, but it flew away and I kept sliding. A girl grabbed me by the hand as I was sliding away toward what looked like a hole in the tunnel. She redirected me down a side tunnel that opened up which I began to travel down as she passed me the key. The gem key disappears in my hands and I slide faster and faster, the tunnel now a colorful blur around me. The colors start to turn lighter in shade as things slow down again. The tunnel wrinkles as I come to a stop and falls around me like that parachute game in grade school. I wake up, snuggled in my bed sheets which are partly over my head.

This is Your Life

Why do things happen the way they do? Is there a grand scheme? A universal script where cues are taken from actors across the cosmos? Such an idea would imply that something, someone, or some force wrote the destinies of every living being.

Perhaps life is just a random walk, creating our path along the way with every choice we make. Gods of our own life, splitting time as every possible action we can take plays out in parallel worlds. In one of these worlds my brother is still here with me, along with my cousin and grandmother.

Such is the nature of the reality I’m currently living in, and life must go on. I will love and cherish the people in my world, treasure every moment with them. I must do my best to make good choices and not fear mistakes, or feel shy about shining and showing my true colors. To live is to be joyous; not to dwell on regrets or drown in despair. As I stand in the present, I will look out towards the future welcoming the next challenge, with good memories from the past in mind.

The Talking Plane

The Talking Plane (sentient plane)

Who are you?
The Plane.

The Plane?
Yes. What the Creator would refer to as the Xaeoxyk Plane.

You don’t call yourself by that name?
No.

What name do you prefer?
“The Plane” will suffice.

You don’t have a true name then?
A true name.. yes.

What is your true name?
It would do no good to speak it, as Creator’s current density can not comprehend it.
It can not be heard or uttered by mortal forms.

Why?
The Creator’s density is too low to process, it would be soundless.
Mortal vocal cords can not vibrate at the level nescessary to speak it.

Who is able to speak this name?
Creator’s godform.

Who is the Creator?
….

Am I the Creator?
Yes.

What is my godform?
Creator knows that answer already.

Ah, I was indeed thinking it already. You’ve just confirmed it.

Did my godform ever refer to you by your true name?
Just once, when the Creator evoked The Plane into beingness.
To speak it again would cause uncreation.

Are there any other sentient planes? Do they also talk?
Yes. All planes are sentient, but not all talk as this plane does.
Some planes only communicate through numbers, symbols and geometries.

New Earth

The stars twinkle like a string of cheap Christmas lights. The reflections dance across the glass and chrome ruins like burning tinsel. The only life remaining are the cryptoforests filling the empty lots and vacant streets, with a chorus of insects replacing the sounds of car horns and bustling hordes of humans. Wildlife going back for generations have no knowledge of humans ever existing.

In an unmarked court yard a tattered flag still flaps in the wind, so worn and faded it bares no markings of sovereignty. A forgotten state in a forgotten nation. A world since purged of all people, their carved out territories now reclaimed by nature; shaken off the planet like a bad case of fleas.

Classroom

So I have another dream I want to share. This took place the other night so not as clear now. I know, I know, I should be writing these sooner. There’s many other dreams which I’ve never shared, so at least I’m writing this one.

This dream starts with me walking into a classroom. I feel this is around 5th or 6th grade judging by the age of the kids. I’m a kid too since my eye-level is around the same height as the other kids. The first thing I notice as I walk in is a pretty girl in a black dress standing by her desk. The atmosphere seems pretty laid back. One student is laying on her desk as she reads a book. Others are scattered about doing random things.

I wander down a row of desks and find a seat I like and get comfortable. I look up toward the front of the classroom and realize there’s a teacher writing something on the chalk board. The words are in some illegible cursive but decide I should attempt to write it down. I look down by the side of my chair where a black backpack suddenly appears. Reaching into the front zipper pocket I pull out a handful of pencils in a variety of lengths. The perspective of the pencils seem oddly distorted, like viewing them through a fish eye lens. After selecting one of the longer Ticonderoga style pencils with a nice sharp point I begin (trying) to write the notes on the board. I don’t get too far before being distracted by a rustling noise behind me.

I turn around to see an older man with greying facial hair reading a newspaper, bright light pouring through the large window behind him. He makes eye contact with me as he lowers the newspaper, my gaze slowly zooming in like a movie camera. His eyes are an intense blue and his stare becomes increasingly intimidating. The zooming stops abruptly and he asks in a booming voice, “Did you write?” “Have you written anything?”

The dream immediately jump cuts to another scene, which was pretty jarring. I’m standing outside in some grassy field that probably hasn’t been mowed for several weeks. Straight ahead of me about 25 feet and maybe 10 or so feet above the ground, I see randomly shifting geometric patterns in black silhouette against a blue partly cloudy sky. Some of the shapes are flat and simple… squares, triangles, circles, rings that are transparent in the center—and some are more complex 3D polygonal shapes with more sides than I could count. Also, there were one-dimensional black birds flying out in different directions. (WTF?)

My eyes track one of the birds as it flies off and fades against a white fluffy cloud in the distance… blurring between sleep and consciousness as I wake.

O’ MAGOS

GONOGIN HERG

RAX ISIAMON ⊕

BAHAL DAREK •

 

[the Magician

Delights to Slay

with the

Seed of Desolation

to

Disturb the Way.]

Dreamscape: Part II

SCAGeoClasses - LeyLines_clip_image002

(This is a continuation from a previous dream first mentioned here.)

I found myself back on the top level of the ruined castle tower.

I walk over to the edge and look out across the moon-lit sky in the direction that the dark sorceress flew off into. A swirling trail can be seen, as if bits of ash were fluttering above a camp-fire. I reach into my pocket to pull out a couple of small spheres. They glimmer in the palm of my hand like silver ball bearings marbled with copper. I mutter something in a language unfamiliar to me. It felt as though someone else had spoke with my lips. The spheres then promptly lifted into the air and flew off to follow the burnt bread crumbs left by the sorceress.

I watched for a bit, mesmerized by what just happened. For that moment, I didn’t feel like I was in control. Where did those two spheres come from? How did I know how to use them? What was that command given in some strange alien language? Well, the effect was at least obvious. They were meant to track down whatever they were told to, in this case, the dark sorceress.

One thing I did know, was that this was still a dream, and in my dreams, I could fly. I fix my gaze onto the spheres in the distance as I focus on the thought of flying. I step off the edge of the tower and float into the night sky, quickly catching up to the spheres. The cool crisp air flows through my hair. The sound of my cotton shirt and denim shorts flapping in the wind was nearly deafening. Watching the hilly, tree-laced terrain unfurl like a scroll beneath me against an oil painted sky. It was all so beautiful, I could soar forever while taking in the view. It was easy to forget I was on a mission.

I had been flying for several miles, just how many exactly, I couldn’t be sure. I notice the tracking spheres rapidly drop in elevation, I pursue. What ever had remained of the bread crumb trail left behind by the sorceress had long since dispersed, so I was relying totally in the spheres tracking abilities by this point. Whether these tracking abilities were by some internal mechanism within, or some sort of external force was a thought tugging the back of my mind. As the spheres and I begin to skim above the tree-tops, I can see a large structure in the clearing ahead. It was a great hill, with a massive, round stone fortress-like building embedded into the top of the hill. I can only guess this was the lair of the dark sorceress.

(…more to come.)

Arcane Riddle

A subtle secret can be found in the vital Vril.

To the ancient of the Ancients it was Luminous.

The free flow of which could undo current Power.

And bring about the return to an era of Gold.

Dreamscape

Dreamlathe - Nexus

Dreamlathe – Nexus

I’ve always found controlling my dreams to be fairly easy. I played my dreams like a lute, each string its own dimension, every note a new shade to color my astral canvas for me to escape into. Meeting any kind of adversary in a dream was never a threat to me, as I could control the outcome of any situation I didn’t approve of, even if it was a dream I hadn’t consciously initiated myself.

One recent example of this, I was roaming some ancient looking castle ruins on a wooded hillside at night. After climbing to the top of a large crumbling tower, I encountered a dark sorceress. I could tell she wasn’t too pleased to see me there as she gave me a wicked scowl and promptly began hurling spells at me. I reacted instinctively by raising my arms to shield myself, but found it was unnecessary since the sooty orbs she was lobbing were exploding harmlessly around me creating a spectral colored light show.

Even though initially I had flinched in defense, I realized that I wasn’t scared of the sorceress. That even though she seemed powerful and menacing, I knew that there was nothing she could do to hurt me. She was an illusion conjured up by my lower self. That’s the moment I realized I was dreaming. My face went from a mask of confusion to a smirk of slyness. The sorceress raised an eyebrow of concern, but before I could make a move I heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs behind me. I turned to look and standing at the top step was a little girl, 11 or 12 maybe, with jet black hair wearing a ninja outfit. She had large gold cat eyes and razor sharp claws instead of fingers. She flew through the air towards me and unleashed a storm of kicks and swats from her claw-hands.

I ducked and dodged her attacks, then remembering the sorceress encounter, I stopped and just stood there. Her blows were landing, but just like with the sorceress, nothing was affecting me. No pain, no bruises or claw marks, nothing. That didn’t seem to stop this girl from trying though, just kept at it. I held my hand out with my fingers closed and palm forward towards her yelling, “Stop!” The air shimmered between us like a mirage on a summer road. Her body was repelled back to the other end of the tower where she managed to land on her feet with a stumble, almost falling off the edge. Surprised but still determined, she began making a dash towards me. I was getting annoyed by this point and I decided that I had to get rid of this little girl, not to harm her in any way, just banish her from my sight. I touched the tips of my fingers together with my palms apart and closed my eyes in meditation. The dream view switched from first-person perspective to an aerial view just over the tower. Time appeared to slow down, because the girl was running at me in slow motion from twelve-o’clock and the dark sorceress was at four-o’clock just over my right shoulder dead still.

What happened next is a little difficult to describe. I shape shifted into what looked like a troll. Greenish-brown skin, large ears, big warty nose, but I didn’t grow in size, I remained my normal height of about six feet. I opened my eyes, bent over and reached down at the stone floor and pulled up a transparent mesh which I shook vigorously like a carpet. This caused a wave of force to ripple in the girl’s direction, halting her mid-dash. A portal the color of tropical blue water opened just behind her in the shape of a rectangular doorway. Another swift shake of this gossamer carpet sent her tumbling back into the portal door to elsewhere, which promptly sealed itself shut with a crack of thunder. Now in first-person, time restored to a normal clock rhythm, I turn and shift my icy blue-eyed gaze upon the dark sorceress. She stepped back with a hiss snatching up the hem of her tattered black robes, spun once like a windy wisp of autumn leaves and turned into a giant black moth to fly off into the moon-lit night with ink blot clouds.

I awoke in a mild sweat to the sound of rain rapping against the bedroom window. I’ve just had a lucid dream.

(Continue on to Part II)

Transconscious Attunement Engines

We are all fractals, everything is a fractal. Each pattern or fractal are part of an ever larger pattern or fractal. We’re all waves of pattern smeared across the Metafractal of The Cosmic ALL.

We are like instruments in an orchestra of cosmic noise trying to vibrate in harmony with the Universe.

Quantumly entangled with All Spaces and All Times, infinite streams of information are available to our awareness for perusal. All questions anwserable; All paradoxes reconciled.

As Transconscious Attunement Engines, all things that are thinkable are possible. It’s just a matter of time (duration) and frequency (vibration).

The non-local machinery ticks away from beyond an unknowable phathom within the oneiric
abyss of endless paradoxical possibilities, where even the most unthinkable thoughts come to form creating an infinite array of Metathoughts.

A variable army of precogitive neuro-hounds slipping through shadowy alcoves, prey on unsung dreams and hollow wishes; rendered stagnant on the shores of Akal.

/braindump

Äirisaetheräijatar

Äirisaetheräijatar swooped down for the attack with the calculated precision of a nightjar and the hyper-swiftness of a cybernetic cheetah.

She mustered and belched forth a noxious cloud as she buzzed overhead. The grey, green-lined cloud rained what smelt like ammonia but burned like a heavy corrosive. It had a clear iridescence which shimmered on the way down, each droplet burned deep channels into the flesh of the hapless marks as the acid streamed across their skins.

As she gained altitude, Äirisaetheräijatar spoke with an airy bellow which sounded like windblown trees raking together, “Enjoy your free spa, boys, compliments of House Xsy.”

Utopia Dream

The Grand Dream will end. Fade to black.

Death will be feared.

This is only a sign that the next Reality Engine is ready to start.

Fueled by Hope & Love. Imagination the Key.