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Lucid Dreams
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1429
When I was younger I would practice this, lying down, attempting to astral project myself, beginning with my toes, concentrating on lifting free the feather of my soul from the leaden weight of my body. I would attempt to visit people I knew, seek confirmation of consciousness beyond my brain, sense beyond my senses. In time I had some small successes, I would free myself, then begin to fly, knowing all the while I was dreaming, but controlling it, flying across the world, strange landscapes spread out beneath me, attempting to navigate by force of will alone.
And I would lose control, accelerating rapidly, the landscapes, mountains, cities beneath me turning into a blur, I would begin to panic when it seemed I would go over the edge of the world, when I might not return, and awaken suddenly.
I practiced this, but life makes you busy, you lie down to project and find yourself only falling asleep. I should try this again.
Interpretation of Dreams - #1
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1239
One dream which stands out for the ease of interpretation.
I had finished at a job, with the corporation, it was a disgraceful ending, I had spoken my mind, not really, not even a little but quoted out of context, out of place, I had broken the rules, said something I regretted and was let go.
I had behaved badly. Sure, there were many excuses, overworked, understaffed, permanently stressed with ridiculous deadlines, unattainable targets, and representing hypocritical customer service ambitions.
But I had behaved badly, spoken hastily under stress, and was let go.
And so I went home, both saddened and relieved that this little nightmare was over.
I collect wrist watches, vintage watches, Bulova, Hamilton, Omega, Rolex, any old watches. I have a box full, some are working, some need repair. They are the tangible inheritance I will pass to my children.
When I got home I took a nap. I dreamt my supervisor was breaking into my apartment, the rest of the company was outside waiting for her in a van.
She was breaking in to my apartment, I passed her in the hall as she was carrying out my furniture. She came back again, now to steal my watches. I watched her carrying them out the van, to divide and share with the other employees.
The interpretation was simple - the company had been stealing my watches, my "time" with them was stolen.
When I awoke I saw this, clearly now by way of the dream. And I was less upset.
The Conversations are Grueling
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 1479
We meet, once, sometimes twice a week, in an out-of-the way coffee house. You never can tell who might be listening....
And we catch up; there are plans afoot to change the world.
He catches me up on the news, the politics of the election, the latest conspiracies and herbal remedies.
There are the doubts about 911, "It was an inside job" he tells me and he taps his nose. We're being strung along by the banks and corporations while they ready things for the new world order. The new world government. He outlines their plan, it's sinister, reduce the world population, bunkers are being stockpiled in Montana, they'll starve the poor and non-christian, preparing the way for the righteous, the wealthy, to inherit the earth...It's only a matter of time...
Unless the saucer people get here first. They'll change things, he's just not sure if it will be for the better or not...
They were supposed to be here last week. He changes the subject.
"Did you watch TV last night?...." a lead in to another topic, he knows I don't have a TV, it doesn't matter, he'll fill me in.
We meet for coffee, once or twice a week, catch up, it's only an hour.
The conversations are gruelling.
Of N*** in 3 slices
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1474
I woke up, groggy, barely able to move but I was going to write down this dream, it would only take a minute, I could fall asleep again when I finished.
And I turn on the light, check the clock - must be 3 - 4:00 AM?
It's 7:10 and I'm late, my dream is swiftly evaporating.
There was my mother, somewhere off in a town, shopping, a small old town on a forested mountainside that runs to the sea, overcast, old brick houses and shops. A ferry, I was on it waiting for her, she should hurry or she'll miss it. She missed it.
And N*** - her profile, in 3 paper thin slices, one slice merely a shadow, the other 2 filled with pink polka dots.
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