Silk Egg

anime girl 213

I had another vivid dream early this morning.  It is noteworthy because it is a recurring dream.

The first time I had it was a few days ago.  I did not understand the message even though it was repeated over and over and over during the night.  Once I woke up, I could remember the dream, but I could not even guess at the meaning.

This recurring dream is unlike my usual dreams in that most of my dreams are rather involved and contain many characters, lots of dialogue, plenty of color, sounds, scents, and touch.  This one was very different.  It was short and to-the-point and it had few colors, no scents, nothing that I could touch.  It was more like a video screen in front of my face.

I am shown an image of an egg, perched in between folds of colored silk.

silk egg

A disembodied voice says:  “What is round is flat.”

Invisible hands begin to roll the egg around the silk.  I stare at the egg, mesmerized.  Since it is cushioned by the thick folds of the fabric, it remains whole and undamaged.

The voice speaks again:  “Find the egg and you will find the evidence.  Roll it around, turn it upside-down, flip it sideways—it does not matter.  It is still the egg.”

As I am contemplating the words, the dream starts up again.

“What is round is flat…find the egg and you will find the evidence…”

I woke up at 4 AM, confused and still hearing the words “What is round is flat,” reverberating through my skull.  It sounded like something Lao Tzu would say.

Unable to sleep any longer, I stumbled downstairs to grab a cup of coffee to start my morning.  As I am feeling my way down the steps in total darkness, I am mumbling and grumbling to myself:

So damn cryptic…can’t say it straight…gotta make it all mysterious and mystical…damn him…

I am standing there in the darkness, staring out the window at the lonely street light on the corner and listening to the rain drumming in soft patters on the leaves and the eaves.  The coffee is percolating to the sound of the dream rumbling around in my head.  My mind’s eye is rolling along with the egg, rolling around the silk fabric.  Round and round and round.

anime girl 99

Argh!!!

What the heck does an egg have to do with anything?  How am I going to find an egg?

Egg.  Egg.  Egg.

Egg and Evidence both starts with an E.  Maybe it’s a silk egg.  Maybe it’s got something to do with silk worms.  Eggs are good for breakfast.  We put eggs into cakes.  Silk is used for clothes.  I have silk night shifts.

None of this made any sense.  I was going down the wrong path; down the wrong rabbit hole.

Well, since I was working on stuff that had to do with the Vietnamese culture, maybe I can start there.  Egg is Trứng in Vietnamese.  It sounds like Chứng but pronounced slightly different.  However, if you’re from the south, it sounds the same.  Chứng means evidence.  Maybe that’s it.

I’ve got to find the egg-vidence.

Ha!  That’s funny.  But evidence is actually the combination of two words, bằng-chứng.  Bằng by itself means level (flat).  Would that have anything to do with the phrase “What is round is flat”?

I am not sure.  All I know is that I have been given a clear directive.  I have to find evidence that is like an egg, whereby it will remain true to form no matter what angle it is looked at.  Since an egg is a living entity, despite the fact that it does not move or have any apparent thoughts on its own, perhaps I am lead to looking, not just at dead things but also living things.  Since an egg contains genetic material that has not yet matured, perhaps that is also a clue to go look at more genetic evidence.  The silk, in the dream, seems to be a protective entity.  Perhaps I will go look at the Vietnamese silk industry.  It’s a long shot, but it might pan out.  Not sure yet how it will play out in my quest, but I will keep it in mind as I continue my work.

I’ve got a long, long road ahead of me.

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Bands of Gold

lotus-position

I am in a space that is void of any visual stimulation.  It is not dark, but neither is it light.  It is mostly…foggy.  Grey mist swirls all around me but the temperature is not too cold, not too hot.  It is just empty space that I am hovering in.

There is someone next to me.  I think he is male, but I cannot be sure.  I know that he is here to teach me something important.  A monk appears in front of me.  He is in lotus position, eyes closed.  He looks almost transcended.  The being next to me tells me that this monk is to be feared and that he is going to to something very bad to me.  The being wants to know how I can defend myself.

I regard the monk carefully.  Aside from a slow, almost imperceptible opening of his eyelids to look at me, the monk has not moved a hair.  He does not seem scary in the least.  How am I suppose to defend myself against a man who does not look threatening and has not even attempted to do anything to threaten me?  I am quite perplexed, not sure if I am suppose to feel fear, and not sure what to do next.

The being continued to study my reaction to the monk.  I decided to just jump into the deep end and try something…anything.  After all, I can’t just stay frozen with indecision forever.  Either I do it right or I do it wrong, but at least I had to do something.

Now, having been a scaredy cat for the last few times I’ve had dreams like this one, I decided just to not think about my fear and go ahead with what I think I should do.  Since he was suppose to be the bad guy and harbor bad intentions towards me, I decided that the best thing to do was to send some power waves towards him, in the hopes that it was powerful enough to conquer fear and hate and anger.

Reaching inside myself, I found that I had to scramble around to find the exact wave with which to align my wavelength with.

gold wavelength

I ran up and down the scales until I found the right one, a bright golden shining band of waves that radiated outward from the mid region of my torso.  Unfortunately, I could not cast the waves outward towards him because the waves dissipated within a matter of inches from my body.  I needed extra help.

I concentrated with more intensity, trying to call forth from within, some way that I could utilize to cast the golden wavelength towards the monk.

meditation

“Find your Bodhisattva.”  The being said to me.

“Find my what?”  I think back at him in confusion.  I may be a decent human being, but I sure as heck am no Bodhisattva.  I do too many things that would be considered on the slippery side of being straight and narrow.

“Find your Bodhisattva within you.”

I shrugged.  Nothing to lose.  I called inside me.  “Hey, you!  Bodhisattva!  Come on out.  I need your help.  HELP!!!”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Well, this wasn’t working out too well.  I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to imagine what a Bodhisattva would look like and all I could think of was some old image from a wall hanging in an Asian grocery store that I saw recently.

bodhisattva

Something like this.

“Good.”  The being said.

I opened my eyes, and surprise!  I could see this same image that I created in my mind’s eye, hovering above me.  The only difference was, the face was not some otherworldly being.  The face was mine!  That was me!  My Bodhisattva face winked at me and grinned with mischief.  It occurred to me that it was so strange to see my mischievous monkey face on the body of such a supremely serene being, but there it was, and I could not argue with the fact that I was embodying a Bodhisattva.

Oh well, probably a one time loaner.

Then, two other beings appeared and floated next to my Bodhisattva self, one on each side, and down at my level.  Those two beings looked like me too, only not so grand as the Bodhisattva.  I had no clue how they got there—probably body guards to make sure I don’t break the real Bodhisattva’s figure with my clumsiness.  I remembered thinking…”Oh, so this is what they mean when they say, Father, Son, and Holy Ghosts.  I was the ‘son’, the Bodhisattva was the ‘father’, and one of the body guards was ‘holy’, the other ‘ghost’.  I could dig a trinity.  It made sense (except this wasn’t a trinity.  This was a quadrity (does that word even exist?).

Any way, they sank down to the same level where I was sitting, and between us, we formed a triangle, with the Bodhisattva at the center top…sorta like a four-sided Pyramid-shaped structure.

“Good.  Now, engage your enemy.”  The guide told me.

I shrugged.  Nothing to lose, right?  I had no clue what I was suppose to do next, but I knew that I had gotten the correct wavelength.  It was the first thing I was sure about.  I looked at the monk, who was now looking less and less scary and more and more pitiful.  I really didn’t want to blast him with anything that might hurt him.  He seemed so gentle.  Yet, this being is making me do this, so I had no choice.

I grabbed the radiating bands of golden wavelength and began casting it in his direction.  This time, with my body-double Bodhisattva above me, and the two body guards next to me, together, we were able to direct the aim at the monk.

Suddenly, I could see his heart chakra.  Suddenly, I could see the waves he was propagating outwards in random frequencies.  He didn’t know how to isolate a single wavelength, as I could so easily.  He kept meandering from one wavelength to another.  There were a few areas where some possible negative wavelengths were emanating.  I knew I could fix this.  Suddenly, it came to me in a flash, and I knew what I could do—what I had to do.

I merged my wavelength with his.  Wherever his wavelength faltered, I bolstered it until it became evenly matched with mine.  I maneuvered towards the area where a few small bands of negative frequencies were still hovering about.  With laser precision, I targeted that area and cleared it out.  All of a sudden, he was pulsing and radiating bands of gold at the exact same frequency I was pulsing out at him.  Now, I didn’t have to do anything else.  All I had to do was keep my pulses steady and clear, and his pulses were able to match mine.  The monk opened his eyes and smiled.

At that moment, there was a…I can’t describe it any better than a bubble burst of a fairy bubble.  The image dissipated as if in a dream, and I awoke back into this side of reality.

Just like that, it was over.

I was like…”Dude!  Not yet!  I want to know what happens next!  Did I do the right thing?  Did I learn that lesson correctly?”  But of course, there were no answers for me.  It was all I could do to just hang on to the fragments of that dream and to record my thoughts down quickly before the frail threads vanish.

I still have no clue what the lesson is suppose to be all about.  Perhaps when I re-read this posting, years from now, I can gain some understanding of it all.  I am hoping that I get to meet the being again another night so I can learn something new.

Maybe tonight…

 

 

 

White Cat in Time-space

It happened again.

I am in the middle of a fairly boring dream where I am at a sea-side cottage with a few friends.  The details are mundane and boring—just another normal basic dream.  It is night time and I want to go outside to enjoy the ocean breeze.

Moon Beach

There is a bright moon high in the sky, so it is either fairly late in the evening or quite early in the morning.  I am standing out there, staring at the garden and beyond that, the beach where the surf is rolling in, lapping the shoreline.  All is calm and peaceful.

Suddenly, from the corner of my left eye, I see a white shape.  I freeze my body and dart my eyes to take a peek.  It is a cat.

A big one!

white cat

OK, one thing I have to point out is that in my dreams, everyone is of a dreamlike quality.  This means they often change from one person or form to another, sometimes quite randomly and sometimes due to my whim.  This entity was not of that type of entity.  This entity is a short-haired, white, four-foot tall (standing on her hind legs) humanoid-looking cat!  It is real and solid and seems to exist outside of my dreaming mind.  This cat is of the same caliber of realness as the heavily made-up Chinese opera singer alien who visited me last month.  This means that I KNOW I do not have control over her.  Don’t ask me why I know it’s a female cat.  She just seems to exude femaleness.

This time, I am not going to run away.  I want to talk to her.  I turn towards her and look closely.  She is sitting on her hind legs, with her fore-paws in the air, resembling a large white female lion but with more delicate features.  She moves to stand up and when she does, she looks less like a cat and more like a humanoid feline.  Her body is solid in form.  Nothing my mind tries to do can change her back to a normal-looking cat.  That is when I realize that my lucid dream-state has been invaded by a being that is not of the usual ephemeral dreamlike state.

I stand there, not daring to breathe.  What the hell do I do?  She pauses and looks at me for a bit, and then walks on her hind legs towards me.  When she gets close enough to me, she reaches out with both her paws and touches me.  It is a solid real feel of paws touching my shoulders.  This is the moment that I panic and call out to my friends who are immediately inside the doorway of the cottage.  They come rushing out to see what is the matter.  I manage to choke out a few words, “Get that cat off my chest!”

My friends are confused.  They can’t see anything untoward and are holding me back by the arms.  They think I am going crazy.  I struggle between my friends and the humanoid feline who is still solidly in my face.   I scream the words again. “Get the cat off me!”

girl in bed

And that was when I woke up.  I had screamed in real life, much as before, and it was my screaming that woke me up.

I think I should cut back a bit on the Linh Chi Dan.  It’s giving me really strange dreams.

Linh Chi Dan Dreams

Linh Chi Dan sounds like the name of a beautiful, young Vietnamese girl.  Linh means “spirit, spiritual; soul; miraculous; supernatural; sacred; divine; mysterious; efficacious; effective”.  Chi means “plant of longevity; fungus; seed; branch; mushroom; excrescence”.  Dan means “medicinal pill”.  Put it all together and we have a Supernatural Mushroom Pill.

As pretty as the name sounds, it is actually quite ugly in form, and red as a baboon’s butt, to boot. This odd-shaped red mushroom has been cultivated by the ancient herbalists and go back as far as memory will allow. In fact, ancient scholars date the usage of this mushroom back over seven-thousand years ago.    The Chinese called it Linghzhi (靈芝),  the Koreans called it YeongJi (영지,靈芝), and the Japanese called it Reishi (靈).  It was quite rare back then, and only the royalty had access to the mushroom. However, in recent times, the Japanese found a way to mass-cultivate this mushroom and now, it is much more accessible to the general public.

It is suppose to be used for general-health-and-well-being; however, if you ask my grandfather, who was a bona-fide card carrying herbal medicine doctor and teacher of the art and science of ancient herbal medicines (and a Taoist to boot), he would tell you the wondrous magical qualities of Linh Chi Dan. According to him, it is considered to be a drug which, when taken regularly, can assist the Taoist into immortality, as it is suppose to cultivate and develop the Shen.

Oh, those Taoist Immortals. What will they think of next?


Well, to be fair to those ancient folks, who am I to argue with Taoist Immortals, eh? I figured, if it gives me some small boost to my immune system, I’d take it just to keep from getting those nasty, nuisance, colds. If I get some extra Shen boost out of it, then Yay!

But I have a feeling that’s not going to happen to me. I’m just not quite made of the stuff that Taoist Immortals are suppose to embody.  I’m too—bombastic. I’m too—blonde!

Well, I found out that I wasn’t too blonde to get intense, vivid, lucid Linh Chi Dan dreams. As I have stated before, I am not much into health foods, but I had heard that Linh Chi Dan, when taken regularly, promoted among other things, really cool dreams. I was like, sign me up! I promptly bought two bottles and started taking it twice a day, along with my daily double dose of skate liver oil (more on that later) in hopes of getting clearer and more lucid dreams.

After a few weeks on this stuff, I have to say, it really does deliver the dreams. Forget the immortality Shen part, just give me the cool dreams!

L.M. Churchill

When my dreams want me to remember something important, it is repeated multiple times, throughout the dream, and even written down for me to look at, in terms of letters and words.  At one point in my life, it was constantly being written in Chinese characters, which I could read and understand, but only in my dreams.  Upon awakening, the memory of Chinese words comprehension would escape me and I would be unable to recall the words.

So one day I sat down and did some talking to myself.  I said, “Hey you, if you are going to make me read words, at least make it English, so I can still remember what it is I’m suppose to be remembering.”  Well, that seemed to have worked, because ever since then, it’s mostly been English.

That’s just a little epilogue to this dream I just experienced.  It is a noteworthy one because it it SO CLEAR.  In it, I meet a woman with two young boys.  She tells me her children are perfectly normal, except the younger boy has such a wild and fertile imagination that he insists his name is LM Churchill, and that he is a train conductor.  Instantly, my mind gets this image of an older gentleman in a train conductor outfit.  (of course, this is a picture I took off the internet, so it is not this specific man, but you get the idea).

 

So, I get to talking with the little boy, who because he was barely five or six, was running around saying things like, “Ma’am, if you get off at the Jersey Junction and take the next train out to the Bronx Terminal, you’ll save yourself an extra day of waiting.  There’ll be no more trains till then.”  I was thinking to myself, OK, either this kid watches a lot of train movies, or he really is a conductor in his past life.  His father begins to berate him for being silly, and telling him that he was not this LM Churchill person that he is constantly telling everyone he is.

The boy gets upset.  He runs to a corner, curls up in a ball and begins to cry.  I felt so badly for him, so I made my way to him and gathered him up into my arms.  Instantly, I could see the words LM Churchill flashing at me in front of my eyes.  He also said it several times, insistently, wanting me to remember it.  So I committed that name to memory and I whisper over his ash blonde hair, “It’s ok.  I believe you.  Yes, you were, indeed, LM Churchill, the last time you were here.”  He looks up at me.  His eyes are a startling light blue.  They dried up immediately, and he snuggles up next to me and then falls asleep.

I wake up.  I go to the computer and type in LM Churchill.  I got some pictures of old clocks.  I also got a tombstone.

I don’t know if this is the right one.  I don’t care, really.  When dreams are this clear in my mind, it is wise to always pay close attention.  Something important may be trying to get through.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

To dream is to frolic and play in the mind of God. If we pay attention to the messages that is being delivered to us, we can have conversations with God. Since God and the soul are one and the same, if we can comprehend the messages coming from our soul, we can apophysize.

Part of the process of comprehending the soul is paying close attention to what it has to say to us. There are many ways to document a person’s dreams, and this is my way. I am not saying this is the best way. I am simply saying that it works for me. If you see any value in my method, by all means, take what you can of it.

I cannot write very fast with a pen. As a matter of course, I write very slowly if I truly want to be understood because nobody can read the fast version of my handwriting. The big problem is, I think very fast, and if I cannot record my thoughts at the speed at which it blazes from my brain, I lose my train of thoughts as my hand tries desperately to keep up the brutal pace.

I realized long, long ago that the only way to transcribe my thoughts accurately and quickly was to type them into a text editor since I type almost as fast as I think. This is the only method of writing for me now, as I get so frustrated with writing via the slow method.

Upon awakening from a deep sleep, it is all I can do just to cling onto the shreds and wisps of my quickly-dissipating dream. As I am trying to retain the images, sounds, and scents, I reach for my tiny netbook. It is small and is placed at my bedside. At a slight touch, it awakens and pops up a text editor so that I may start typing out my visions before they completely disappear. The beauty of typing out my dreams on a net book is that I don’t have to fumble with the bedside table lamp switch because the net book is back-lit if I need to see what I am doing. Truth is, I don’t even open my eyes to type. At this stage of the documentation process, I am trying to remember my dreams, and keeping my eyes closed helps me to retain the images.

It’s a good thing I can type blind.

I don’t think about the meanings of what I see. I describe it exactly as if I am a casual observer, unaffected by what is going on around me. I note the colors, the lighting conditions, temperature, noise (or lack thereof), and I note any odd, shifting visuals. If an object I come across suddenly morphs into another object, I write that down. I don’t bother to analyze it. That part comes later.

If the scenes shift, I document that as well. Sometimes, it is a very long and involved dream, taking place in one location only, and at other times, the dream is a chain sequence of shorter episodes in wildly
different environments that seem unrelated to each other, disjointed, and lacking in any obvious connection.

Quite often, the cast of characters shift and meld into each other, blending and simulate people I have known in my past, as well as people I am suppose to know but have never seen before in this life time.
Sometimes, I am myself, the person I have known for all these decades as me. Sometimes, I am another, quite different from my own incarnated form, even of the opposite sex and with an age difference that would be completely out of my realm of experience.

I write all this down in plain descriptive short sentences and even partial sentences, without prejudice and without analysis. The object is not to have beautiful flowing prose. The goal is to solidify the visuals
before they have the chance to dissipate and is lost to my awakened and conscious mind. The analysis process is to be part of a much later activity, once I have done as much gathering of material as possible so as to have enough data points to begin to simulate a picture of what my right brain is trying to tell me.

When I have the necessary time to return to my snippets of dream records, I then take the pieces and rewrite them into an easier to read prose. In the process of writing the prose, an interesting thing happens. Since I am combining both the right and the left parts of my brain, connections
are made where there was none, and a fuller, clearer picture emerges from the parts and pieces.

I interpret the dreams myself. I do not bother with the dream dictionaries that are floating around on the internet and in print form. There is nothing obvious that they can tell me, which I cannot see for
myself, and quite often, they even obfuscate and distort meanings because they try to slot powerful ideas and images into convenient slots that have nothing to do with an individual’s experiences of them. Trust me. We all have the ability to decipher for ourselves, what our own soul is trying to tell us. I certainly do not need a dictionary to talk to myself.

Given enough time, all the pictures, like pieces of a puzzle to a huge and colorful jigsaw image, starts to form. Stand back far enough, and with enough of the pieces, I begin to see what my soul has been trying to tell me for as long as I have been alive. With the ageless knowledge of the soul comes the awakening power of a deity, barely starting to grasp and understand the depth and breadth her abilities.