BlackCartouche
Jedi Master
Thought I'd write for the first time a dream here...
I had this one a couple months back before went to Poland. It was very VERY vivid and long involving different elements of my life threaded together, more so than usual. It had me thinking about it several days after. I tried writing it down, but kept forgetting bits and having to re-remember best I could. I also have added 'real-life' notes that may be relevant to the dream.
Don't know if there is anything particular to be made of it, but here it goes:
Its starts: Im in a large darkened office-type environment with rows of concurved 1980's computer screens with high-stools like in a betting shop. There's old newspapers littered about everywhere. I'm sat with a longtime landlord I manage properties for. He and I are the only people there. He is angst ridden, the stockmarket has crashed. Its worse than ever before... worse than 1929!
I try contacting my business-partner-and-friend in urgency to 'warn him' but the touch-screen on my mobile is playing up again so won't unlock to make calls. Next I know, the landlord and I jump in a large fire-engine parked out the back. Its night, he's driving hurriedly with blue lights flashing (but no siren). There's another guy - I can't remember who he is - in the drivers cabin sat in the middle between us. He is very aggressive and starts fighting with the landlord as he drives. The fight escalates and the fire-engine is careering out of control. I reach round the fracas grabbing hold of the steering-wheel to try control the vehicle as it carriers down the London Road hill towards the city centre as it continues picking up speed. Holding of the wheel, the scuffling blocks my view out the windscreen so I must rely on my memory of the road-lay to navigate the truck down the hill's slight curves before it finally levels off on the flat finally slowing down. There was no power-steering for such a large heavy vehicle, I was struggling to manage it. Eventually I control-crash it to an eventual stop into empty seats and tables outside an al-fresco-dining restaurant. We tumble out and go our separate ways.
There is chaos and rioting everywhere resulting from the financial crash. It doesn't matter to me. Chaos is fine when I have no responsibilities but myself. People I recognize causing trouble stand back as if wary or in disdain?... Turning their backs to shun me. I don't know why... I don't care.
As I walk past a darkened alley to my right a long-time friend I've known since school reaches out from its shadows and hands me a set car keys: "take her away from here" he says. A moment later I'm driving a car out the backway of my home city with "the girl" I've been entrusted to look after, following behind in a Renault Cleo. Its daylight as soon as I leave my city. We're driving at speed through a tree-tunneled country road - she's keeping good pace. Im driving to a destination but don't know where it is or why I should go there. Its all instinct.
[Real-life note: "The girl" is someone I befriended back when I did youth work in schools in Hackney (East London). They were always very intense - dealing with troubled kids from abusive backgrounds, some with family members slain in gang-related violence that threatened to spill into the schools. As such, the youth-projects were very emotionally testing, as a result strong bonds were often forged between volunteers - especially between the sexes. We worked well together... She was a great ally]
She likes me a lot (in dream and real-life) but I don't feel for her the same way she does for me. I must make sure she stays with me to accomplish my entrusted mission - and because I care for her personally - but don't want her immediately following behind as it represents being too close a relationship. I must maintain some distance and create a 'buffer'. I set about putting a vehicle between us and overtake cars in front but she's a very proficient driver and always follows suit. Finally I take the chance to overtake a extremely-long articulated lorry on a dangerous bend - with success. The road becomes too narrow and windy for her to overtake the lorry despite her competence. I can relax and settle down with the journey. The speed lessens as road gets narrower and steeper... It gets steeper still and more dirt-track-like with grooves running down the middle etched out from heavy-rain runoff. It reminds me of a mountain road i went up in Turkey. The tree-tunnel become spruce and pine, no longer the deciduous broad-leaf woodlands back home.
My car starts to shrink like vacuum-sealed bubble-wrap sucking in around me... I'm encased. I force a break-through flaying out my arms freely before clutching onto handlebars of a push-bike I now find myself peddling. Everyone are on bicycles as the road becomes an earthen track unsuitable for vehicles.
We're all going to the same destination.
The bicycles are ditched and we're all walking, rambling, clambering then climbing as the track gets ever steeper still. I look back and there's hundreds following behind single file, many carrying bulky items on their backs like sherpas.
The girl is fine, I no longer need to be concerned for her safety. As we finally reach the mountain top - "the destination" - everyone but me files off onto the grassy almost-flattened knoll of the summit - opening up just above the trees - and all sit down.
Its warm sunny and summery here with butterflies and willow-seeds floating about. I want to go sit with everyone but before I do I need to climb a dolmen perched precariously at the edge of the grassy mountain-top.
They're all watching as I try to pull myself up on top, clawing at the stone table-top slab, digging my nails into the rock. Im breathing heavily, hyperventilating. I pause to turn my head to look out across the valley below - across to mountains over and all around. I'm very high up with fluffy clouds drifting below. Its the same view as when I was in Kashmir overlooking Murree. My mountain is warm and sunny (though I can't see the sun's origin). Everywhere else I could see is under the cold darkness of dusk - and peaceful.
[Real-life note: My visit to north Pakistan was a pivotal moment for my personal 'development'. It coincided with the assassination of Benazir Bhutto (I was 15 miles away at the time of the explosion - leaving Islamabad just before the roads in and out were blocked off).
I was sad for her death because I quite liked her, but the darkness within me at that time needed an experience of genuine danger - of being out of my depth without a safety net - of which her death kind of allowed for: A white Brit in a troubled foreign land threatening civil war... Buildings are torched and automatic gun-fire echoed around me... It was just what the doctor ordered! Yes, a terrible thing to say/way to think, but thats honestly how I felt at the time. This was also around the time I first came across Cassiopeia]
As I look across the valley, all of a sudden I become acutely aware of how high up I am, and become overwhelmed with the sensation of vertigo, overcome with an extreme fear of falling. I don't understand... I love being high-up - on top of mountains and cliffs and hilltops overlooking amazing views for miles around!
The vertigo starts to consume me, I feel sick dizzy and wretched.
[Real-life note: I have experienced vertigo but has only ever been mild and very brief. I get it when having not been high-up for a while then getting taken by surprise, eg walking across Bristol's Clifton Suspension Bridge for the first time and underestimating how far the drop is to the gorge bottom. Vertigo lasts only a few seconds before my eyes adjust to distance. I've never felt sick.]
I turn my head away from the grand vistas to try desperately to regain stability of senses and face the warm meadow scene again. Everyone are sat in lotus positions watching me attentively. They are dressed similar to those at a newy-aged pagan gathering or festival-goers at Glastonbury, many wearing pixie hats and wrapped in silky pashminas flowing in colorful arrays. Nearly all are women. They look disgruntled. Annoyed. I can hear them muttering and murmuring angrily among themselves... shooting scowling eyes my way. They're not happy with me! I haven't climbed the dolmen - and they're all waiting!
As I try to force myself up once again, the dolmen moves about - rocking side to side. Im spinning out, my vision blurred, reeling from the effects of vertigo now more so compounded by the unstable swaying sensation of the dolmen. I am panic-stricken. I kept thinking: "Why is this happening? Why am I so weak and fearful? Is it because I still drink alcohol?... It must be that..."
The pixie people are more vocal now, cursing - booing and shouting at me. I feel shamed and disappointed with myself. Its like I'm on trial. "To hell with them - to hell with all of them!" I thought "What do they matter anyway.."
Sick dizzy and debilitated, I somehow manage to muster every iota of strength within the deepest depths of my fast-dwindling Will to drag up and along the cold hard cap-stone slab like a mauled seal out of water. My nails hurt as my fingers dig into the rough surface of the stone in desperation. My heart is pounding, I'm frothing at the mouth struggling to breath. However, I finally drag the tips of my toes up and onto the cap-stone, ensuring every part of my body gets to lay wholly atop the dolmen.
There is one last hurdle: I must stand up! - the very last thing I must do - if I am to prove truly worthy(?) But I can't - I simply can't hold out any longer, I will faint at any moment.
Just before passing-out, incredulously I manage to squeeze the very last vestige of enfeebled strength from within and slope off the dolmen's edge, like a carcass, plopping down on the grass - a shaking jellied heap.
I regain my senses and come to my feet. The angry pixie people are no longer angry. They seem content enough and quietly in conversation among themselves, ignoring me. I look back at the dolmen. There's a stepped entrance beneath the dolmen's table-top capstone shining forth a soft golden light. It leads down into the mountain. Its so inviting... I can 'sense' enchanting music emanating from down the passageway... strange... Its walls glisten with pink and white crystalline... possibly gypsum and rose-quartz... shimmering with reflected gold light. It allures me so, but I don't want to go down there because I didn't stand up on the dolmen. I feel unworthy to. But its ok, just knowing its there - of such a place - calms me...
I look back again at the grassy meadow-scene to see my youngest sister (the 'baby' of the family - though she's 30 now) walking toward me smiling, stepping around the pixie people as she does so. "Aw... I haven't seen him for aaaaaages!" she proclaims, and gives me the warmest hug ever - better than any in real life. Its like our souls merged for that moment.
With her arms wrapped round my neck I look past her shoulder to see my mother standing at the treeline at the far side. She stands at an oblique angle to everyone, facing slightly away off to one side looking out across the valley to the darkened mountains beyond... Wistfully... She looks sad.
"Why is she sad?" I thought... "why is she always sad..."
End of Dream.
I had this one a couple months back before went to Poland. It was very VERY vivid and long involving different elements of my life threaded together, more so than usual. It had me thinking about it several days after. I tried writing it down, but kept forgetting bits and having to re-remember best I could. I also have added 'real-life' notes that may be relevant to the dream.
Don't know if there is anything particular to be made of it, but here it goes:
Its starts: Im in a large darkened office-type environment with rows of concurved 1980's computer screens with high-stools like in a betting shop. There's old newspapers littered about everywhere. I'm sat with a longtime landlord I manage properties for. He and I are the only people there. He is angst ridden, the stockmarket has crashed. Its worse than ever before... worse than 1929!
I try contacting my business-partner-and-friend in urgency to 'warn him' but the touch-screen on my mobile is playing up again so won't unlock to make calls. Next I know, the landlord and I jump in a large fire-engine parked out the back. Its night, he's driving hurriedly with blue lights flashing (but no siren). There's another guy - I can't remember who he is - in the drivers cabin sat in the middle between us. He is very aggressive and starts fighting with the landlord as he drives. The fight escalates and the fire-engine is careering out of control. I reach round the fracas grabbing hold of the steering-wheel to try control the vehicle as it carriers down the London Road hill towards the city centre as it continues picking up speed. Holding of the wheel, the scuffling blocks my view out the windscreen so I must rely on my memory of the road-lay to navigate the truck down the hill's slight curves before it finally levels off on the flat finally slowing down. There was no power-steering for such a large heavy vehicle, I was struggling to manage it. Eventually I control-crash it to an eventual stop into empty seats and tables outside an al-fresco-dining restaurant. We tumble out and go our separate ways.
There is chaos and rioting everywhere resulting from the financial crash. It doesn't matter to me. Chaos is fine when I have no responsibilities but myself. People I recognize causing trouble stand back as if wary or in disdain?... Turning their backs to shun me. I don't know why... I don't care.
As I walk past a darkened alley to my right a long-time friend I've known since school reaches out from its shadows and hands me a set car keys: "take her away from here" he says. A moment later I'm driving a car out the backway of my home city with "the girl" I've been entrusted to look after, following behind in a Renault Cleo. Its daylight as soon as I leave my city. We're driving at speed through a tree-tunneled country road - she's keeping good pace. Im driving to a destination but don't know where it is or why I should go there. Its all instinct.
[Real-life note: "The girl" is someone I befriended back when I did youth work in schools in Hackney (East London). They were always very intense - dealing with troubled kids from abusive backgrounds, some with family members slain in gang-related violence that threatened to spill into the schools. As such, the youth-projects were very emotionally testing, as a result strong bonds were often forged between volunteers - especially between the sexes. We worked well together... She was a great ally]
She likes me a lot (in dream and real-life) but I don't feel for her the same way she does for me. I must make sure she stays with me to accomplish my entrusted mission - and because I care for her personally - but don't want her immediately following behind as it represents being too close a relationship. I must maintain some distance and create a 'buffer'. I set about putting a vehicle between us and overtake cars in front but she's a very proficient driver and always follows suit. Finally I take the chance to overtake a extremely-long articulated lorry on a dangerous bend - with success. The road becomes too narrow and windy for her to overtake the lorry despite her competence. I can relax and settle down with the journey. The speed lessens as road gets narrower and steeper... It gets steeper still and more dirt-track-like with grooves running down the middle etched out from heavy-rain runoff. It reminds me of a mountain road i went up in Turkey. The tree-tunnel become spruce and pine, no longer the deciduous broad-leaf woodlands back home.
My car starts to shrink like vacuum-sealed bubble-wrap sucking in around me... I'm encased. I force a break-through flaying out my arms freely before clutching onto handlebars of a push-bike I now find myself peddling. Everyone are on bicycles as the road becomes an earthen track unsuitable for vehicles.
We're all going to the same destination.
The bicycles are ditched and we're all walking, rambling, clambering then climbing as the track gets ever steeper still. I look back and there's hundreds following behind single file, many carrying bulky items on their backs like sherpas.
The girl is fine, I no longer need to be concerned for her safety. As we finally reach the mountain top - "the destination" - everyone but me files off onto the grassy almost-flattened knoll of the summit - opening up just above the trees - and all sit down.
Its warm sunny and summery here with butterflies and willow-seeds floating about. I want to go sit with everyone but before I do I need to climb a dolmen perched precariously at the edge of the grassy mountain-top.
They're all watching as I try to pull myself up on top, clawing at the stone table-top slab, digging my nails into the rock. Im breathing heavily, hyperventilating. I pause to turn my head to look out across the valley below - across to mountains over and all around. I'm very high up with fluffy clouds drifting below. Its the same view as when I was in Kashmir overlooking Murree. My mountain is warm and sunny (though I can't see the sun's origin). Everywhere else I could see is under the cold darkness of dusk - and peaceful.
[Real-life note: My visit to north Pakistan was a pivotal moment for my personal 'development'. It coincided with the assassination of Benazir Bhutto (I was 15 miles away at the time of the explosion - leaving Islamabad just before the roads in and out were blocked off).
I was sad for her death because I quite liked her, but the darkness within me at that time needed an experience of genuine danger - of being out of my depth without a safety net - of which her death kind of allowed for: A white Brit in a troubled foreign land threatening civil war... Buildings are torched and automatic gun-fire echoed around me... It was just what the doctor ordered! Yes, a terrible thing to say/way to think, but thats honestly how I felt at the time. This was also around the time I first came across Cassiopeia]
As I look across the valley, all of a sudden I become acutely aware of how high up I am, and become overwhelmed with the sensation of vertigo, overcome with an extreme fear of falling. I don't understand... I love being high-up - on top of mountains and cliffs and hilltops overlooking amazing views for miles around!
The vertigo starts to consume me, I feel sick dizzy and wretched.
[Real-life note: I have experienced vertigo but has only ever been mild and very brief. I get it when having not been high-up for a while then getting taken by surprise, eg walking across Bristol's Clifton Suspension Bridge for the first time and underestimating how far the drop is to the gorge bottom. Vertigo lasts only a few seconds before my eyes adjust to distance. I've never felt sick.]
I turn my head away from the grand vistas to try desperately to regain stability of senses and face the warm meadow scene again. Everyone are sat in lotus positions watching me attentively. They are dressed similar to those at a newy-aged pagan gathering or festival-goers at Glastonbury, many wearing pixie hats and wrapped in silky pashminas flowing in colorful arrays. Nearly all are women. They look disgruntled. Annoyed. I can hear them muttering and murmuring angrily among themselves... shooting scowling eyes my way. They're not happy with me! I haven't climbed the dolmen - and they're all waiting!
As I try to force myself up once again, the dolmen moves about - rocking side to side. Im spinning out, my vision blurred, reeling from the effects of vertigo now more so compounded by the unstable swaying sensation of the dolmen. I am panic-stricken. I kept thinking: "Why is this happening? Why am I so weak and fearful? Is it because I still drink alcohol?... It must be that..."
The pixie people are more vocal now, cursing - booing and shouting at me. I feel shamed and disappointed with myself. Its like I'm on trial. "To hell with them - to hell with all of them!" I thought "What do they matter anyway.."
Sick dizzy and debilitated, I somehow manage to muster every iota of strength within the deepest depths of my fast-dwindling Will to drag up and along the cold hard cap-stone slab like a mauled seal out of water. My nails hurt as my fingers dig into the rough surface of the stone in desperation. My heart is pounding, I'm frothing at the mouth struggling to breath. However, I finally drag the tips of my toes up and onto the cap-stone, ensuring every part of my body gets to lay wholly atop the dolmen.
There is one last hurdle: I must stand up! - the very last thing I must do - if I am to prove truly worthy(?) But I can't - I simply can't hold out any longer, I will faint at any moment.
Just before passing-out, incredulously I manage to squeeze the very last vestige of enfeebled strength from within and slope off the dolmen's edge, like a carcass, plopping down on the grass - a shaking jellied heap.
I regain my senses and come to my feet. The angry pixie people are no longer angry. They seem content enough and quietly in conversation among themselves, ignoring me. I look back at the dolmen. There's a stepped entrance beneath the dolmen's table-top capstone shining forth a soft golden light. It leads down into the mountain. Its so inviting... I can 'sense' enchanting music emanating from down the passageway... strange... Its walls glisten with pink and white crystalline... possibly gypsum and rose-quartz... shimmering with reflected gold light. It allures me so, but I don't want to go down there because I didn't stand up on the dolmen. I feel unworthy to. But its ok, just knowing its there - of such a place - calms me...
I look back again at the grassy meadow-scene to see my youngest sister (the 'baby' of the family - though she's 30 now) walking toward me smiling, stepping around the pixie people as she does so. "Aw... I haven't seen him for aaaaaages!" she proclaims, and gives me the warmest hug ever - better than any in real life. Its like our souls merged for that moment.
With her arms wrapped round my neck I look past her shoulder to see my mother standing at the treeline at the far side. She stands at an oblique angle to everyone, facing slightly away off to one side looking out across the valley to the darkened mountains beyond... Wistfully... She looks sad.
"Why is she sad?" I thought... "why is she always sad..."
End of Dream.
-
, and it dawned awhile ago that there might have been a method to the madness in that depth of knowledge on the subject, along with other things like music and acquaintances (names) conceivably builds a 'vocabulary' that can be used to communicate - without infringing upon free will?
?
