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Friday July 25, 2008
A few days ago, I had a dream where I was on an old ship. I remember walking down some stairs and looked back seeing the wood beam framed hallway and the green painted walls. Vivid HD quality. At the time, I thought, this is a vivid one, and I am right in the middle of it againe. I am dreaming!
I looked out a window and saw a wall that would be the pier, and the water just below the ship was moving up and down. "We are near the coast of Ireland." I heard the ship officer in the hallway behind me say.
I then teleported to a movie theatre I moved to sit down in one of the seats, moving a purse strap aside that was resting on a pillow before I sat down. Thin blue seats made of interwoven felt on a thin plastic frame.
Then I sensed the man sitting to the left of me was Russian. For some reason, I said, "Paseba." He seemed pleased that I knew this word and so did, I sensed some of those sitting around me. On the screen was a movie about some Southeast Asians sitting together huddled in a hut.
Interpretation: Why am I speaking Russian?
The dreams where I am merely observing and not speaking to anyone is one thing. There are four kinds of this aspect of dreams:
a) Dreams where you are merely observing
b) Dreams in which you speak to someone.
c) Dreams in which someone says something to you.
D) Dreams in which there is a two way conversation.
When I write about my dreams, as usual, it always comes back to bite me in the ass, in a good way. When I write about the dreams in which I am an observer or only speaking to someone that is one thing.
But it seems whenever I write about a dream where someone speaks to me, and if it is in any way, creepy, then the next day, I see RCMP squad cars or else Natives or else, just about anyone in fact, I know enough about the nonverbal language of the Universe that these are spiritual protectors.
When someone talks to me in a dream, and it is in some way, tense, gritty, like someone saying to me, "Say something in Cantonese." and I answer, "Hui say." or else when someone saying to me, "Say something in Russian." and I answer "Paseba."
This dimension needs the structure of planets. The 5th Dimension does not. Planets and gravity are coefficients of the same dimensional condition exclusive in this 3D one. This dimension is a jigsaw puzzle put together, but can also be looked at, examined as a conventional exactly cut jigsaw puzzle pieces and the pieces can all fit together in one way. That is the linear time structure of this dimension. Solid, non holographic. The four sides of a jigsaw puzzle piece in this dimension are individual and need an exact and selective other piece.
The next dimension is a jigsaw puzzle put together but can be looked at with all the pieces fitting together an unlimited way because a jigsaw puzzle piece has four sides and in the next dimension all four sides are the same and can be interchanged interfitted with any of the other pieces in any way.
Gravity = planets. Planets = gravity.
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Chinese Imperial Dream
A couple of months ago, I had this dream, and on the day after I had the Cambodian dream.
First, the Cambodian dream.
I am digging through the front yard of a house. "Living here is like life in the trenches." The Cambodian leader is there. He gives me a head start and then tells his people to fire on me.
I run down the highway, downhill down a winding road and I twist and turn like a motorcycle.
Then I see myself running down the highway carrying a Thai flag.
As I run, I look to my left. Someone else, whom the Cambodians fired upon and did not miss is at the side of the road, skis and a skipoles.
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Chinese Imperial Dream
Then the day after, I see two Chinese ministers in silk. I thank them for some reason and they say, "Why are you thanking us when we are giving you a head start!"
Some soldiers appeared.
They were wearing Darth Vader shaped helmets.
Even from this distance, I could see the rivets on the individual rectangular plates of their uniform.
Then they brought out arrows and fired on me as I was running away from them.
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Tuesday August 26, 2008
Dream British Royal Family.
I was in an alley. I was told that the British Royal Family were around.
Then I ran into Prince Harry. He was about 12, red hair, face a little bit fat like a cherub, tiny freckles, the vivid spiky red hair. I told him I was into making movies and he said that the movies I make are a good thing for England.
I was then told that the Queen was in the front yard. I ran to the front yard.
I saw a lime green Dussenberg, or whatever those old longish kind of European cars were, the 1930s kinds.
I looked to my right and saw a throng of people around a larger black, old fashioned European car. Then I saw the Queen. She was approaching the car, her right profile to me. She had white hair, and she looked thin.
I once had a dream where I saw her 1950s style, from around the time of her Coronation, there was a white rectangle of reflected light on the bridge of her nose.
Then I looked again, there was a door and through the doorpane, I saw the Queen, small, thin and walking towards me, but although she never looked at me directly, I knew that she knew that I was there. In the vibe of this moment, she had an air about her that reminded of Queen Victoria. To the right of this is a waist high walled section, with tables, a garden party. Long tables spread towards me longtitudinally, throngs of people, at one of the tables, I see Camilla Parker Bowles.
Then at the archway where I saw the lime green car, there is a Priest in a White Robe who says that this time and this area is for the Royals to worship first. The other people are to worship later. I go back into a room and look down on the floor.
Note: I am not bothering to draw every frame of the story of this dream. Just the most vivid parts.
Interpretation: In the dream world, you do not see people; you see the ghosts of people. When you see a big face, filling up half the field of vision, face very close, very large. Hello. It means that the ghost is right next to you!
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August 28 Friday, 2008
Dream: Walking West along Hastings, between Seymour and Homer, on the North side of the street along one of the stores, I see my friend Len. At least I think it is Len.
Teleport to the Sears Tower. Outside an outdoor alcove area, on Hastings, looking Southeast, there is a man next to a paint easel and picture. He turns around, turning left, faces me. I see that it is a heavyset man in his forties with pockmarks. He said that he was not Len.
Interpretation: After years of observing my dreams, there is a final sum that can be expressed emotionally. The dreams all together, have a total core emotional quotient. Anyone who is old or a shaman can tell you that. Just like this World, in the dream World, I am always recurring going to places, the 5th Dimensional nonsolid holographic translation of this 3 Dimensional World of solidity.
The 5th Dimensional version of the highway between Dawson Creek and Vancouver. I am often in Vancouver.
A curving street reminisent of Broadway between Rupert Street, Skeena Street and Boundary Ave.
A field trip on a small plane. A line up of students, me included about to board a small plane.
Soon it will be morning, I have to be in Dawson Creek again. How could I be in Vancouver again now? I have to remember to get my things, soon, it will be morning and I have to be in Dawson Creek again.
Why is the trip to from Vancouver to Dawson Creek so fast?
Here I am, I am dreaming again. To show this, I can fly again. I am good at flying.
Well, I have dreams with such dialogue recurringly.
The personality exists outside of time and space. A shy person, a person who shies away from things in this World, will also do so in the dream World. That is the things, for some reason, they decided to shy away from.
A traveller returns to his home town often in his dreams. Even if he hated his home town. He goes to that place as an icon, as an objective artifact, and as a subjective haunt. The events that happened before are forgotten, irrelevant, as Dr. Robert Monroe said, "The human condition is quickly shrugged off in the second state."
One goes to the 5th Dimensional template of that town, suspended in time and space in which anything can happen. New histories can be enacted and written on that space.
copyright: Dean Noble
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Dream: September 5, 2008.
I dreamed that I had just walked out of a small movie theatre. A regular sized one.
I walk down a hall. I see an usher. She lets me into a set of double door that open inward in the middle.
I walk in and then see the largest movie theatre I had ever seen. I mean I would have never come in here except for that usher. Large monolithic high backed chairs. A couple of people in the stands.
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September 30, 2005, I mean 2008
PM accused of plagiarism
PM Stephen Harper has been accused of plagiarism. No wonder he does not like to talk to the press.
Such an accusation is low rent and whoever accuses another person of plagiarism ought to have their head pounded on the sidewalk with a sledgehammer.
There is no such thing as an original thought. All thoughts are either emulations of things seen in nature or other art.
A person who accuses another person of plagiarism is usually because they are desperate and will scratch at anything in order to hurl mud at another person. The problem is, this kind of thing is insidious. What next, accuse a politician that he scratches himself when he wakes up in the morning?!
All The Presidents Men likes to talk about how the press is supposed to be sacrosanct and that the Press is a force that could level politicians. But clearly in this case when, of all people, a member of the press accuses a politician of plagiarism, it is a sign of the entropy of the press. The press' weak point, their blind spot is that they could become a victim of their own edifice. The bizarre byzantine bureaucratic workings of a full court press. When a member of the press accuses another person of plagiarism, that is just them grasping at straws, it is the unionized press goldbricking, featherbedding, to the point of inventing stories or making noccuous what was previously innocuous, that is plagiarizism which is a trumped up term for something everyone has done at one point in their life or other.
What can you say when a member of the Press accuses a politician of plagarism. Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't ever run for political office become members of the Press where the standards of scrutiny are considerably less than for that of a politician. Movie reviewers who never made any movies of their own who like to put down the movies of others. The Press has a problem when it starts to believe in its own infallibility. There's a term for shit like this: Yellow Journalism.
Well, in this case, consider the source.
www.myspace.com/drdrtfehytf
does not work for me today. I sign in, OK click on manage blog and it redirects me to the home page. This again, and again, and again. So I am posting this on my blog at Blogger.
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Dream: November 25th 2008, Wednesday between midnight and 6 am.
I go upstairs a couple of floors. In the hallway, looking into a bookstore. There are a pile of books. I see one of the piles has a black and white photo comic version of one of the Officers from before. Looks a little like a British Police Officer, sunglasses, a black and white checkers pattern. And the title of one of the piles of books is 'The Drew the 60's another one is 'The Drew the 70's'.
Interpretation: Nancy Drew. The word Drew has a mystical and important meaning in Police circles.
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Dream November 27th
Walking in Vancouver. 'Vancouver is beautiful. It reminds me of England!'
My cousin Tom drops me off somewhere in Vancouver in a taxi.
I walk up hill, up an alley. I go to the backdoor of a Victorian style wooden family house, common in Vancouver. I look for my friend, Bill Murray, the actor who is there, young, 40s, navy blue sweater, dark hair, Stripes era Bill Murray. Next to him is a beautiful country girl with sandy blonde hair and wearing a plaid, white hunting shirt. I say, 'You are with a girl, I will visit you next time.'
Walking downstairs I sense that a third woman, the mother has entered the room with Bill Murray and the country girl, sitting on a couch watching TV. Dark, night, the splashy light of the television illuminating their faces. The woman is upset that I was there. What was that guy doing here? Let's get him.
I think to escape. There is a square opening to the left. Next to that is another square opening, a counter. I grab a wire whisk just in case there is a fight. But I sense that they can not find me.
I look back. The room has no ceiling. Just above the ceiling line is a 40's fat, bald, but with ruddy red hair at the sides, shining at the edges, a classic ghost and I have seen hundreds. He holds up a half guitar, half gun and aims it to the side, cocks it. They still can not find me.
Note: Today, when I wrote this, after, someone sent me a message on facebook. This person looks pretty much exactly like the ghost. Red hair, bald.
I walk down the hill deciding that Vancouver is a city that is just filled with vile assholes and why do I keep wandering back to the astral version of Vancouver in my dreams and I will be glad when I get back to Dawson Creek.
From the Shining: The Shining lets you see many things. A lot of things have happened in this hotel over the years, Danny, and not all of it was good. Remember the things that you see are just shadows. They can not hurt you.
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