Wednesday, November 15, 2017
I was at Chinatown. Outside on the corner of a building, Georgia and Gore street. Night time. Chinese triads, two of them. One of them had a three bladed sword. As I was lying on the ground the one with the sword jumped up and stabbed down into my stomach. Playfully. Softly. He then let me go.
Night time. I saw my father in a room with a lot of other people. He was wearing a purple dress shirt. I cried when I saw him. I hugged him and said, "I'm sorry I haven't called you all these years but at least I got to see you a couple of times recently." Remembering I saw him a few weeks ago in a dream, he was also wearing purple seated at a table with the other members of the family. I then said to him, "If you pass away, you can always visit me in a dream. And I can visit you in a dream."
Daytime. I was in Dawson Creek again. A farm road near some forests, a wooden fence. Snow. Winter. There were three people with me, I don't know who. I said to them, "This is classic Dawson Creek." Knowing that this is November, I then said, "I think I'll stay here until February, then I'll go back to Vancouver."
Daytime. Further up the street from Georgia and Gore except this part of the street was in Dawson Creek on 10th Street and 100th Ave outside of Zeller's. There was a Police car. A couple of Police Officers. There was also a crowd of people there and I was mingling with them. We were looking at the corner where the Chinese guy playfully attacked me with the 3 bladed sword.
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Saturday, November 18, 2017
Driving through Chinatown at night. Except it was almost pitch black, no street lights only moonlight. In front of me were two convertibles with a White guy and a 3 White ladies in each. Then I saw a convertible with two Chinese guys and three White ladies. One of them in the back was looking at me, I looked at her, but I looked away for a second and thought, "Jeez. I don't know if I'm really into that. I'm not really into young women. I like them older. And I'm not usually this lucky this quickly." But then I quickly recalled I was in the dream world and thoughts are cleaner and I can look directly at her. She was eating noodles out of a noodle cup with chopsticks looking right at me. The ladies all had long straight hair.
Driving further on down the steet, to the left was a Chinese restaurant. As I passed the restaurant in the convertible I was riding in, I noticed there was a White lady also young, pretty sitting in front of the restaurant. I looked right at her as I passed the restaurant.
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Saturday, November 25, 2017
In Dawson Creek, up ahead at a house is my old friend from Dawson Creek. She is wearing an ormanent in her hair with a heart shaped hole in it. I remembered. She was always wearing head ornaments.
On a street I saw some children. I decided to walk on. So I turn down the street, walking away, and across the street I see my girlfriend in a blue dress.
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Saturday, December 2, 2017
I was staying in a rooming house hotel room. It had an adjoining room which was great because most of them don't.
I go to the adjoining room and see my friend Harold lying on one of the beds. He said he was living in this room for this week but after that, the room is all mine. I wanted to stay in that room to sleep as well. Harold said, there is a space over there for you to sleep.
I wanted to walk downstairs through another adjoining room to check on my things.
I walk downstairs, there is a a staircase. In that basement, I thought of arming myself, maybe with a lightsaber but I only see two wooden sticks. I pick them up as a weapon. Just then a cat leaps up at me, knocking away the sticks out of my hand.
I try to catch the cat but it bites down on both my hands. Hard. Harder and harder. I feel simultaneously a kind of harder pinching but then no real serious pain. Just like happens in dreams.
Note: My neighbour, an old lady died. She was real attached to this place. What are the chances of her haunting this place? Like K2SO said in STAR WARS, "It's high. Very high."
She wouldn't haunt my room but she would haunt the areas, think of geometry, that she used to walk around when she was alive. The hall. Her room. She might be haunting her room now. Ghosts usually haunt through sitting down still in a chair or sitting in a place that one wouldn't traditionally think of as a sitting down place. The floor, leaning against a wall. Top of a fridge or kitchen cabinet. Whereever.
The hotel she would see wouldn't be the same hotel the living see. It'd be cleaner, feeling a lot emptier. A ghost senses things, or like Britty44 said, "You know in dreams how you just know things?" and would sense that the rooms would have no furniture or else the most barest minimum of furniture. The floors would look cleaner than they ever did, freshly buffered and waxed and the walls would look freshly painted. There would be sunlight from what appears to be a perpetual sunny Spring morning but the light wouldn't be coming from the sun as we know it.
She was mainly a nice, kind person. But from what I gather, her youth was horrific. Think Germany, World War 2. That would certainly carry over in the personality as a ghost. It's all part of the jigsaw puzzle. She wasn't malevolent but she was a bit crazy. That would carry over too. But overall, a good person.
The cat in the dream. That could be her. And going into the basement. Dreams are symbolic. Symbols transcend language and make sense in any language, they are a language unto themselves. Basement, below ground, ie death.
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Sunday, December 3, 2017
I saw my cousin Larry the artist. Depicted on the right wearing the striped shirt. The person depicted on the left isn't me, I don't know who he is but he seemed friendly, perhaps a spirit guide. I talked to him about my life, gymnastics, art.
Stern as always before he left he reminded me to bring some appliances that I borrowed back. I said I would and I'd clean them first. Before leaving, I said, "See you, Daryl, I mean Larry."
How many artists can there be with that name? In 1978, I remember seeing some STAR WARS drawings he did. Even at that age, he was talented at art. He drew the ships and explosions expertly. It was mindblowing. He was an influence in my being an artist. I did not discover my artistic talent until I was 10. That's when I saw that I was able to draw cartoons from television, freehand, and without looking at a picture of them first. I was an art prodigy.
The timing is interesting, perhaps he appeared in my dream as a form of reassurance, since my neighbour, the old German lady had at this point, recently died just a couple of days ago.
Larry is of course, an offhand anagram of royal; rryal
Daryl, another name, of another cousin, offhand anagram: D'ryal, de royal, of royal.
With all the royal dreams I've had, this is something I look for now.
I'm keeping score!
I thought of calling Larry to thank him for his influence. His drawings sure influenced me as an artist. But something unfortunate happened to him. He's stern. Don't know address. So I don't contact.
Do not contact.
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Sunday, November 10, 2017
I was in Dawson Creek again. On 102nd Avenue, South side, right outside the CIBC, dark dusky weather. Cold snowy winter.There was a huge snowdrift right on the sidewalk. I even commented on that. Then I go into the Milo Hotel. Someone tells me I'm employed again and gives me a huge ziploc bag with my uniform inside it.
Teleport to a hospital room. I thought I was going to be working in a warehouse or a mill, something industrial. I didn't think I'd be employed at a hospital. I was supposed to interview someone, George Murray, I think, but not sure. He isn't here but would arrive sometime later. I sat down in an open room, George's room. There was a bench that was also his bed. Also a desk in the room.
I was offered food. Cheese covered broccoli served in rectangular white square ceramic dish 3 inches high. The host had one with more of it. I was served a smaller plate with some of it.
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Tuesday, December 12, 2017
I was in a scrapyard that reminded me of the movie Logan. Then I saw a huge transformer like robot run out into the yard. A rocket woman jet packed into a car. The robot grabbed the car extracting the woman as she cried, "No! No!"
I was doing backflips expertly, effortlessly, especially off a pedestal or a podium.
I was on a plane, again. This time the plane was on the water in the middle of a city. I sensed I was flying to France for the first time. I didn't have my jacket on or my wallet in my pocket. How could I go to France without my jacket and walkman with headphones and without my wallet in my pocket?
Too lazy to draw all the windows but you get the idea. One more disturbing thing. Like I heard about the other dimension in the elevator game, in this scene, I noticed that there was not one light coming from any of the buildings.
Again, we're working with symbolism. Language operates as a cover and as a lingua franca or a coin of the realm. Going to France, I'd have a paucity of language facilitation that I wouldn't normally have. That's what it is to go without a coat and wallet.
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Saturday, December 23, 2017
A grey stone framed windowsill on a third floor. I am inside the building. Outside on the sidewalk below is my friend Terry Edwards. Terry had long blond hair like a hippy. Then he leaps up but he has a big piece of glass in his hand. I hold out my left arm and the glass jabs down longitudinally along my forearm. My arm is covered in blood. Even as I pull away it is obviously still draped in blood.
I teleport to Keefer and Gore, the Southeast side of the street and about a third of the block up. I then head West along Keefer then North along Gore and stop at what I later reflected and realized was Diamond Palace restaurant. Then thinking of visiting relatives living on Thrush Street.
I held out my arm and sometimes one just knows about structural engineering. Had I not his shard of glass wouldn't have had a hold.
I woke up in the morning after the dream. I blew my nose. There was some blood but not bleeding profusely or anything like it. I connected this blood with the blood on my arm in the dream. The dream was warning me that there was a bit of blood in my nose.
I thought of a bit of blood in the nose as a sign of TB, then I remembered a sign of that would be blood in the spit, not the nose.
Terry was one of my mentors. The dream means, the third floor means I am at a certain level. That Terry was my mentor elevated him in the spirit World. Terry used to insult me in the midst of his profound hippy mentoring. That's what the glass means. I supported him at the cost of some intellectual injury to myself. As well, I used to think if I had a time and place, an appointment, overlooking the insults, I'd certainly go to meet him. However in the last few months, I decided that I wouldn't visit him even with an appointment, remembering his insults, I certainly wouldn't go to visit him. He senses that.
