Hole in the Wall

(Continued from Metropolis Dreamscape)


4D is traversable.

To get there, I am either instantly transported there via dreams or someone transports me there by various means.  If, however, I need to get there without dreaming, I have to find the locations that will allow me to slip in between space.

Let me explain it as I experienced it.


Imagine the in-between as a barely concealed covering over a square cut hole in a wall in some poorly lit hallway of the utilitarian areas of a shopping mall.  This is my entry point.  I cannot simply walk through the mall to get to 4D, you see, because I would still be walking within the 3D world.  I cannot even fly above the mall (or go under the mall) to get to the other side, because it is not on the other side.

It is on the other side.

I only need to find those openings (and they are very predictably placed, in designated spots that are clearly marked to make it easy for workers and travelers).  I can see its placement by simply looking for the shimmering veil-like edges which don’t quite match the actual wall.  To go through, I reach out, part the covering (it’s made of some type of rough drapery material that matches the color of the paint on the wall) and climb through.  Once I am inside the hole, it is tall enough so that I can stand up.  I usually find myself in darkness, but it’s not an absolute darkness.  There is ambient light everywhere.


Under my feet is dirt, but everywhere on top of that dirt is shiny glittery objects, lying scattered, as if they had fallen off transport vehicles inside mines, on their way to be processed.  They look like precious metals in blues, greens, pinks, and golds.  I pick one up to inspect it and find that it feels like a smooth, flat river rock, except that it is metallic in nature, and very, very light.  I am tempted to take one of those rocks so I can examine it better in a brighter area.  Alas, I cannot get past my honest-ometer that determines this to be theft of another’s property, so I put the metallic rock back where I find it.

Looking past the short alleyway, I see a cavernous opening ahead and walk forward.  There are two nondescript guys, driving something that looks like transport vehicles.  They are obviously working in the mine, and they see me, but ignore my presence.  They obviously do not find it odd to see me there.

I move past them and continue my trek in the direction that I remember I have to traverse to get to where I needed to go.  I had been shown how to make this journey many times in the past by Old Dude.  It was supposed to have been memorized, but this particular instance is troublesome as I keep getting lost.  I would find the opening to where I think I need to exit, climb through, and pop right back into 3D.  I would clamber back in and continue wandering around, trying to find my way back, but once I get lost the first time around, it is nearly impossible to regain my sense of direction.

I have a sense of why this is so.

You see, I have to retain in my mind, the crow’s direction, no matter which way I turn in the dark alley.  It’s always as the crow flies.  Add to that confusion, the space in between the wall is not always filled with oddness, not always dimly lit.


Sometimes, that hole in the wall takes me into a sun-drenched cobble-stone rue with a Parisian cathedral as the backdrop.  Still, I have to know the general direction that I must take, to get there and then find the exit point, which is another fabric-draped hole in the wall.

In this instance, I got lost.  But before I go into the experiences of being lost, I need to explain, in less vague-fantasy terminology, what 4D is and how it can be mentally processed.

(to be continued)


4D: Metropolis Dreamscape


Last night, I revisited a place I have been to many times throughout my dreamstate.  It is very familiar to me.  I know the layout of this metroplex very well because I have seen it many many times, not so much in recurring dreams but rather, completely different dreams, set in the same environment–an environment so real that I can reach out and touch solid stone and see the sun glinting on the shiny glazed heads of the orange and green dragon finials on the stone walls.

onthewatersThis is the place that I was kicked out of a few nights ago.  This is a section of the 4th Density that I partially exist in.

Let me tell you a secret about 4th Density.  You can’t kick a person out of 4th Density.  It’s not a place.  It’s a vibration.  Once your body vibrates to that reality, even if only in sporadic bursts at random times, you’re going to find yourself moving in and out, sometimes simultaneously.

It’s disconcerting at first, but you get used to it.  For me, it usually only happens at night, when my desperate death grip on 3rd Density reality slips.

So let me describe to you, this place I find myself.

At the center of this metroplex is a huge temple set on top of a ziggurat made of andesite.  The temple is not really for prayers.  It is a place to ascend towards, in solitary contemplation, with the emphasis on ‘solitary’ and ‘ascension’ because we truly had to ascend on our own steam.  There are no stairs or elevators, or even the random goat toe hold for any such coarse, rigorous methods as rock-climbing.  We simply levitate up when the spirit calls.  I know because I’ve been up there.  And to get down, we jump and slowly descend back to the ground on whatever wing-and-prayer we possessed.

The ziggurat below the temple is not just for show.  It is a place of healing–what would be considered a hospital, but in this place, there are no medical devices such as we Third Densitites would recognize.  Instead, there are many rooms devoid of any furniture or objects save for a single stone bed.  The bed is not a flat surface.  It is a stone box the length of a human being.  It looks like a coffin with no lid, but it is not for the dead.  It is a healing box.  We lie in the box when we need deep vibratory cleansing.  Nothing mystical or magical at all.  It’s just a universal medical tool to realign the chi.  Very basic healing here.

Surrounding the stone ziggurat is a garden laid out in concentric rings.  The garden provides a cornucopia of fresh flowers, fruits, and vegetables in vast abundance, and given the large number of citizens who actively care for the gardens, it remains in a constant profusion of bloom.  Since I have never really been much of a gardener, I simply enjoy the fruits of their labor and repay them in a different manner.  That way, those who love to garden can garden to their hearts’ content, and those who do not like to garden (me) can do other things.


A large paved road encircles the gardens around the ziggurat, forming a huge oval similar to the track on a football field.  The road is similar to any Third Density road in existence with the exception that embedded within its layers are a multitude of organic crystals that are responsible for feeding energy to the metroplex so that lights come on when it gets dark, and we have power to do all that we do, which includes such mundane things as levitating to the temple heights.

Beyond this road is the marketplace that sells everything one could possibly want or need, but does not utilize cash as currency.  After all, what do we really need in this density other than services?  So we service each other, and pay forward for the services we have been given.  For example, if I gave a musical concert to a large group today, those who went to see me sing and play on my instrument would then offer their services to me in a future setting, should I wish to be shown how to nock an arrow, or attend a color light show, or they could offer me fresh passionfruit and nectar from the communal gardens.

Beyond the market area, there are tall buildings that surround the complex and comprise the living quarters.  I know exactly where my own domicile is.  I have been there often.  If the temple complex was the center dot on a large clock and I stand facing the front of the temple, my little ‘condo’ would be between the six and the seven o’clock position, inside one of the taller towers.

My condo is rather sparse.  There isn’t much in the way of furnishings, just a low couch that doubles as a single bed, and a small table.  It is laughable how few possessions are in my home, and it sounds as if I am living in poverty, but the reality of that metroplex is that there is nothing that needs to be stored.  If we need something, we generate it to be utilized, and when it’s done, it goes back into a general ‘raw’ state to be used for another purpose.  There is no need to store anything other than the few items that have some personal meaning.

So now that I have established this dreamscape, I can move onto other interesting aspects of this existence.


(Continue to 4D:  Hole In the Wall)

Happy Holidays!!!


Once again, the holidays are upon us.  I must say…two posts a year from someone like me is akin to the death knell of a once-busy weblog.  It’s mostly because I don’t have anything interesting to say; therefore, I do not want to waste your precious reading time with blather.

Laying low and allowing the events to transpire around me is enough for this Taobabe.  I was given many opportunities to become part of the teams of people who are working diligently to awaken humanity, and I chickened out at the last minute on all of those opportunities.  I am not yet at the stage (emotionally and mentally) where I can lead and guide, beyond what I have been doing thus far.

Having said this, I must state for the record that life has been busy for me lately, as I go through the different iterations of my winding path through life.  It has never been a straight and narrow path. Those paths are quite often violent and unyielding, as they cut their straight and narrow way through granite mountains and dig under watercourses and swamps.  These straight as-the-crow-flies paths are well-suited only to the most strict and stringent of travelers who will allow nothing to obstruct their onward march towards their meticulously planned destination.

My path—LOL—my path is wide and winding, following the course of least resistance, and quite often, most scenic of routes.  Sometimes, even I do not know why I do the things I do.  I follow that instinct within, and explore with reckless abandon, those things that I am curious about.  Sometimes, it leads me into gullies, and sometimes, it leads me into valleys, but it always leads me somewhere interesting.  My main job, after all, is to feed the most interesting experiences back to the Universe.

Towards this goal, I say:  May your life be interesting, and may all your endeavors produce a bumper crop of experiences that you can look back at and smile with fondness.

Me and Sarafina

unnamedIt’s been awhile since I  have posted anything, and I do apologize for that, but the stream of time rushes onward, from a humble trickle that began gouging through the bedrock of spacetime, increasing into an ever widening torrent until so much has passed that I do not know where to pick up next.

So here I am, posting a selfie with my little dog who just turned five.  Summer is well and truly here but we are cool and comfy inside the house.  It is so hot outside, a sign that the world is changing, and changing quickly.  So many unusual things happening that after awhile, it seems to be the norm for unusual things to happen.  When the oddity becomes common place, then the normal becomes strange.

Have an unusual and strange normal weekend everyone.



School Kinda Sucks 6: Dream within a Dream


(Continued from School Kinda Sucks 5:  Pauper Prince)

There was no cue or indication of what was happening, or about to happen.  I simply found myself in a dark place.

It wasn’t dark because there was no hope and no comfort.  It was dark because it was night time.  I was not afraid in the least.  My uncle was there with me, and we were going on an adventure.  It was an exciting adventure because it was a secret.

No one was to know about our adventure, not even my parents.  And what little kid could resist going on a magical adventure, in the middle of the night, with his beloved uncle as guide?

We walked for awhile and we entered a city park.  The lamp posts glowed a mystical blue-white hue, casting its magic on everything, and everything glowed with a strange iridescence befitting the witching hour.

He led me to the park bench, and I ran about, playing in the grass, happy and comforted in the knowledge that I was safe there with him.  He let me play for awhile, and then he bade me to come to him.

I ran towards my uncle, laughing all the while, expecting more surprises.

nightparkbenchHe gave me a surprise alright.

He pulled me to him and started fondling my penis, stroking me in ways that made me sick to my stomach, yet craving for more of the touch.  I was horrified and reviled, but excited at the same time.  How could this be?  What was happening to me?

In my mind, I cast about, wondering how in the world could I possibly have a penis?  I am female, and have always been.  Did my parents lie to me all this time?  How could they have raised me as a girl and never once told me that I was a boy?


I suddenly remembered all those times, as a very young child, I played and bathed with my two sisters who were only a year a part from me, in either direction.

I was certainly a girl then.

There was no clothing which shielded me and my sisters from each other, and we all looked the same.  How in the world did I grow a penis all of a sudden?  And how did my parents manage to hide this from me?

As my confusion regarding my gender identity flashed through my mind, I could hear my uncle groaning and grunting.  It was horrifying.  He was sticky and he rubbed his stickiness onto me.  I pushed him away, trying to escape.  He clutched at me as the last of his grunts died away.

Once he was done, I was allowed to leave his side.

Then I woke up.


Oh thank heavens.  It was just a dream.  I’m not a boy.  I didn’t get molested.

But then throughout the day, I kept thinking about the dream.  It was strange, to say the least.  I had never had dreams of being a boy before, and certainly, nothing had ever triggered something this horrifying.

It was way beyond empathy.  I was not simply imagining how it felt to be him, or feeling his emotions vicariously.



There is no denying the fact that if we all could feel exactly how another person feels due to the fact that WE WERE THAT OTHER PERSON, even if only for a tiny fraction of time, we would know what to do.  We would know how to interact, how to treat that other person, because in essence, and in reality, we would be interacting with ourselves.

Yes, I have heard often before, from ancient scriptures of every kind, that we are all One, or in the more modernized new-age-y fashion: we are all just fractalized individuations of God.

I understood this in a very cerebral manner, and in my lofty know-it-all fake wisdom, I prattled platitudes of such similar strains, but I honestly did not truly know what it felt like to be another person.  There is a reason for that.

girlBWIn this density (of the third kind), we have been isolated within our own minds, unable to reach out to others without having to go through that clunky troglodyte method of communication via spoken/written words or physical gestures.

And even then…we are allowed subterfuge, play-acting, and downright lying to mask what we truly feel, because, heavens forbid–if another human being could actually read our thoughts and feel our emotions…they would—why, they would expose us for the hypocrites that we were, and they would reject us, make fun of us, take advantage of our weaknesses because they would now know what those weaknesses truly were.

Within our isolation chamber, all we can manage to do is to talk to ourselves, without any external feedback other than what our distracted, demoralized ego can muster up.  Then, after having talked to ourselves round and round in ever tighter circles, we make our decisions in the manner of one part altruism and three parts self-preservation.

And that’s what benevolent, genuinely kind people do!

Everyone else doesn’t even think that much.


They just go about their daily lives, ensconced within their isolation chambers, thinking their individual thoughts, not realizing those thoughts are not so much individual as they are individuated.

And now I understand why some people get that distant look in their eyes when I talk to them.  It could be a plethora of things, but usually, when it comes to interpersonal communications with others, it often means they are wary, and wondering if forging new connections with another human being would cause them further betrayal and hurt, as they had been hurt in the past.


Suddenly, I understood pauper prince, and the lesson that was unfolding at this new school.

For a brief time, I was him, and I now knew why he tried to escape his home, why his family distanced themselves from him, and why they disinherited him.

The pauper prince could, at one fell swoop, knock his family off their power tower with the exposure of his experience at the hands of the absolute, autocratic uncle who held the position of sovereignty of the land.  Who would dare go up against a monarch?


I now understood why he had that distant look in his eyes when we talked.  What to do now that I understood–I wasn’t so sure.

This new density cannot be mastered with just the comprehension and manipulation of formulas and equations.  Third density requires love without the understanding of why and how.  This new density requires love, despite the provisional understanding of why.  The how is more difficult to achieve in this case because we have been provided with more information.

And don’t think that more info means less difficulty.  In most cases, the more we know about a situation, the more difficult the solutions become due to the narrowing down of obvious choices.
girl3a-e1490563407468.jpgWe must then think outside the box and come up with new ideas to tackle what once was a simpler understanding of the world around us.

As our eyes become more developed due to our growth, our vision of the world will transmute from the few basic primary colors to many more shades of those primary colors, emerging for the first time, due to our better ocular and mental faculties.

We now see that those primary colors are just subsets of other shades of (not just greys) but a rainbow of other colors, all affect by more (or less) light.

We also come to the realization that the juxtaposition of certain colors will make other colors seem different, and that some of those differences are truly illusions while others are true to their nature.

I would say more, but I am now barely grasping this truth, in the light of the stale cold morning.

However, I do know this.

It is not enough to grasp the mechanical, scientific truths of the Universe.  We must also grasp the truths of our consciousness and its inter-connectivity to everything and everyone, inter-universally as well as inter-dimensionally.

That is how we must approach fourth density, because it is coming.


School Kinda Sucks 5: Pauper Prince


(Continued from School Kinda Sucks 4:  Game of Life)

The next night, my dream continues, as it is wont to happen, on the occasion.  As of late, my dreams run into each other, like oddly mismatched but related scenes of a strange movie.

I run into the delinquent pauper prince again.  This time, he shows up outside, on the mini basketball court near the vegetable patch.  Because he is familiar with street fighting, not to mention the fact that he also possesses some amazing martial arts skills, the guy easily beats out the kids on the court.  Then, as befitting a true introvert, he refuses to join in on the regularly scheduled games each evening, out on the real court by the gym.

I somehow find myself by his side as he sits on a bench watching the other kids play.

“You’re good,” I said, by way of greeting.

He shrugged and said nothing.

“Is this your favorite thing to do?”  I tried again.

“Nope.”  He answered.


Great.  He’s one of THOSE one-word warriors.  This was going to be either long and drawn out, or short and sweet, depending on my level of tolerance.

“What else do  you like to do?”  One more try.

“I dunno.  I do a little drumming sometimes,” he said, looking at something in the distance.

Now we were getting somewhere.

“Drumming?  As in marching band?  Or as in rock band?”


I smiled.  “Cool!  Me too.  I’m a singer.”

He gazed at me askance with the same expression that I’ve seen when someone thinks I’m equating a karaoke singer with a real front line singer or entertainer.

“No, really,” I said with earnestness.  “I sang with a band for several years.  In fact, there’s going to be an audition later that I’m going to try out for.  Wanna come and audition too?  I know they’re also looking for a drummer.”

girl12“No.”  He said too quickly.

“Why not?  You don’t think you’re good enough?”

“Didn’t say that.  I just don’t want to, okay?”

“Fine.”  I said, feigning disinterest.  “They are pretty good, and they really only want you if you’re half-way decent any way.”

He scowled, not saying anything.  That familiar distant look returning to his eyes.  I sighed inwardly.  Why do I have to be the one to try and work with this stick-in-the-mud?

“Well, it will be later this evening, right here at the basketball court.  Come if you wish.”

And I left him to his own devices.

Fast forward to the evening, and there I was, chatting with the lead guitarist to find out when I was up for the audition.  He hands me a slip of paper with handwritten notes, and I find my name, half-way down the list.  I would be performing two songs, both of which were familiar standards that I normally used for auditions.  No biggie.

I was running the songs through my head when the guitarist tapped me on the shoulder.


“Come over this way,” the guitarist indicated to me.  “Take a look over there,” he pointed to a group of guys sitting around the speakers.

I smirked.  There, in the midst of the chattering group of musicians was the pauper prince.  He was the only guy in the group who did not say a word, yet looked as if he fit in, misfits as they all were any way.


“Yeah, and?”

“He said he’s with you, so this audition is basically just a formality.”

“Why?”  I raised my eyebrows.

“If we’re getting you and him, then you’re both in, no further questions.  He auditioned earlier and he’s awesome on the drums.  He says you’re a pro at vocals.  If he’s that good and he’s endorsed you, then you gotta be amazing!”

I turned away, not knowing what to say.

I hadn’t even auditioned yet, and just like that, I’d been accepted as a condition of someone else getting in.  This wasn’t how I had envisioned the night would go down.

I mentally kicked myself for having forgotten one thing very important.  This pauper prince may be a delinquent thug, but he was street smart, which meant he could always figure out a way to get what he wanted, by hook or by crook.

“I change my mind,” I said, turning away from the guitarist.  “I don’t think I’ll be auditioning for vocals after all.”

guitarist2“Why not?  We need you!”  He insisted.

“You’ve got all these other singers auditioning.  Pick one from the list.”  I said halfheartedly, shoving the piece of paper back at him.

“Come on.  He won’t join us without you.”

“So I’m allowed to join only because you want him.  What does that make me?  A side-kick?”

“It makes you our lead singer and also someone who can influence a person who really needs a second chance at life.  You know his background and what he’s been through.”

“I don’t know him that well.  And any way, I’m pretty sure you guys can convince him to be your drummer without me having to be a part of all this.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” the guitarist sighed.  “I know his type.  He won’t join without you because he’s leaning on you for strength.  He can’t do this without you.  Please.  You’d be doing us both a favor.”

Well, since he put it that way, I couldn’t very well refuse, now could I?