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Yeah, that’s a cool scrying

Yann had been gloomy for a few days. Actually it was not really gloomy, his mood was changing quite quickly and he’d had hard times to follow himself. He didn’t want to impose his mood on his friends and even with Yurick it had been up and down. Nothing to worry about, he thought. He’d been told by Malika it was a clearing of sort, old aspects to let go, they had served their purpose and it was time he accepted the change in himself.

It was easier said than really done. Last Sunday he felt he was “fragmenting”, he felt part of himself gather and do something he couldn’t really define, he felt like they were moving their own way, leaving for their own exploration… but he had still the experience of it. And in the following days he could feel that he could easily tap into these aspects when he wanted to.

The other unusual thing that happened was that he was feeling many inputs from many sources he couldn’t always define. Most of the time he could associate easily a face or a situation, at the beginning it was still singularly focused. The more he allowed that, the more multi-layered it became, it was blending with stories of sort, different aspects of himself he felt, and also aspects of his friends or of perfectly unknown people. Some could be translated as famous individuals, some as homeless people, some as future and some as pasts… and the weirdest was that there were not one version of each, though he was in a way more inclined to focus on one of them… there was a theme behind all that… He hadn’t found it yet though.

He was feeling like evolving in a sticky atmosphere and he could fill it with his fears, so they could express, but the stickiness of this energy was in a way holding them tightly and he had difficulties to let go of these fears. Fears to be abandoned, fears to be less than, to be uninteresting or just not as interesting as… well all that was about comparison and self worth, he was feeling that it was not about the whole of himself, it was particular aspects still holding to these separations from himself. He was feeling he was to accept that in order to let go of this separation. But the non separation was also frightening him because he was frightened by the vastness of his being, the vastness of the connections he was feeling… “and what if I loose my beloved Yurick in the process?” he thought. Couldn’t he just trust himself that he would always be connected to his friend, because that was what he wanted?

He looked at his cat Arona. She seemed far from all those concerns, and he noticed she was purring more strongly than usual. He smiggled… hahaha, what a funny word. He stroked her fur and she moved her body with grace and abandon, how lovely of her to allow such an openness and such trust that it is safe and pleasurable.

He smiled broadly and stroked her belly, full of this joyous and wondrous feeling of love of himself. He felt how it was radiating from him to all his friends and all beings.

Jose Maria stood sadly in front of the plate glass window. He avoided looking in mirrors, tried to forget his disfiguring scars, but occasionally he caught sight of his reflection in a window, and it always came as a shock. He avoided leaving the finca as much as possible, but had felt obliged to visit his frail and aged mother in the Residencia old folks home. His uncle Juan had come trundling up the dirt track to the farm in his clapped out old Citroen van, with the news that Josefina was expected to die within the week, and Jose Maria had agreed to make the trip into town.

A pointless trip really, Josefina hadn’t recognized him, had called him Sally at first, and tried to kiss him; and then later she’d shrunk from him in fear, calling him Pierre.

*****
Three days later Josefina was dead. Jose was required to make another trip into town, much to his dismay, to the funeral. He stood quietly at the back during the ceremony, next to his cousin Paquita, who was attempting to hide a bad case of acne behind her long black hair. Jose Maria smiled at her kindly, and she smiled gratefully back.

Paquita and Jose stayed close to each other for the rest of the day, and Paquita’s family invited Jose to spend the night at their apartment in town. Jose hesitated, but when he noticed Paqui’s hopeful expression, he relented and accepted courteously.

Long after the rest of the family had gone to bed, Jose and Paqui sat on the balcony overlooking the industrial estate and the superstores, in companiable silence. Jose’s scars, and Paquita’s acne no longer visible in the darkness, they had both relaxed, and wondered vaguely why they’d never really noticed each other before.

Paqui broke the silence. Well, you’ll have no worries now about money, Joselito.

What do you mean? asked Jose.

Well, Josefina won the lottery, and you’re her only child, Jose, it will all be yours.

Jose’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Lottery? Oh you must be mistaken, my mother doesn’t have any money. WHAT lottery win?

The orchard was silent apart from the sweet cry of a flork. Arona particularly loved these mysterious and rare birds with their brightly coloured plumage. A late afternoon chill was in the air, and the shadows were lengthening. She shivered and wished she was sitting by the fire in the cave.

Lucille was silent and seemed to be waiting for Arona.

With a flash of clarity Arona realised she knew the answers to her questions already. She had no need to ask Lucille.

I have to hurry home now, she said to Lucille. “Home, hmmmm, what a funny word to use” flashed through her head, as the flork cried out again. She couldn’t wait to tell the others what she had learnt, even grumpy old Mandrake, who would surely say he knew it all already.

Dory woke up on the plane with a start. She’d had the strangest dreams, of crowds of people. So many people in her dreams! Mob crowds, lots of mob crowds, and then busy working crowds of people bustling around working on something, some ground plan. Then there was the train lines right next to the sea, and thinking, saying to someone, We have to wait for them at home, it’s on higher ground, and upon seeing how close the train lines were to the sea, saying Oh they will never reach us if that’s the way they’re coming, because the big waves were coming again, and would swallow up the train. In the big wooden house on the hill there was Dan, unwell, mentally unwell, from taking those pills the night before without Dory’s knowledge. Dan’s sister told Dory in the dream, He’s staying here with us, and then Dory lunged at her, clawing at her face. As she left the house, she turned to Dan’s sister and said You realize that I do love you (even though she often hated her). Then there was the tall black man, who was he?
Dory called to a stewardess for coffee and wished desperately for a cigarette. The man with the eyes that winked at her, who was he? Before she fell asleep, his face popped into her head, and zoomed into crystal clarity, and his eyes blinked or winked at her in mutual recognition. He looked familiar but still she couldn’t place him….dark and swarthy, with peircing eyes….

Let’s insert a similar structure

Tada!

It may require a bit of dusting first, ahem:

The exterior may look flimsy, but the interior is expanded

Dory will be home in time for The day Of The Dead celebrations at the Meredwen pyramid, Dan! Becky exclaimed excitedly.

Dan smiled and said, Yeah, I thought she might make it back in time for that.

It was two years since Dory, the psychic archeologist, had discovered two ancient pyramids in the Andalucian mountains.

How about we go up there today, Becky, and help with the preparations?

Oh YES Dan! Becky replied enthusiastically. Then she sat quite still for some moments, with her eyes closed.

Becky? Dan inquired, You ok?

She opened her eyes and smiled up at Dan. We’ll have quite a crowd of helpers with us at Meredwen today, she said, I just sent out telepathic invitations to everyone.

Dan chuckled and shook his head…he didn’t really understand alot of what Dory and Becky said, but it all seemed right somehow, and it was no skin off his nose to be indulgent and supportive. Their tips about ‘creating his own reality’ had certainly come in handy on the golf course and at the poker table. He started to pack a picnic lunch, still smiling at Becky’s enthusiastic response to his suggestion. That’s what he loved most about Dory and Becky, their passionate enthusiasm for just about anything.

Young Becky shouted to Dan, Dory’s coming back! She sent an email saying she arrives in Malaga tomorrow night!

In actuality, Becky had already known that Dory would be coming back soon. Despite being only a child, she was what would later be known as a Shiftikid, and her telepathic prowess was already well-developed. Well, in point of fact, all children had been born with telepathic skills, all throughout the ages, but the customs of the times had eradicated these gifts usually before the children reached puberty.

The young Becky had been in communication with ‘the dead guys’ as they were currently affectionately known, since before her birth. Thanks to all the links on Dory’s computer, Becky had quickly assessed that she herself was Sumari belonging, and Ilda aligned; of an intermediate orientation, and a political focus. She recalled from before her actual physical birth that she had chosen ‘Exploring Connections’ as her intent for this physical focus.

Becky had purposefully chosen Dory as a step-mother, as her intention had been to grow up in an environment conducive to her explorations. Dory was also Ilda aligned, and her passion for anthropology, archeology and other cultures and times was naturally a great help to Becky and her favourite game of ‘Focus Hunting’.

Becky started to make long lists of all the other focus connections she found, although she had a habit of forgetting where she had started a list, and often started a new list somewhere else. (Dan sometimes commented jokingly that it was almost as if Becky had inherited the ‘forgetful gene’ from her step-mother Dory…..Dan, like most people in those days, believed that genetic characteristics were ‘handed down’ from physical parents).

Becky spent many happy hours playing the focus hunting game, and at times had some difficulty in separating the various other focuses from the current focus she was interacting with. This wasn’t a problem with Dory, or with some of her contemporaries, but often caused some misunderstanding with people who were unaware of their other focuses.

Becky was delighted that Dory was coming home soon. She was looking forward to hearing about all of Dory’s adventures, and she wanted to share her own funny stories about the current ‘Perception Wave’ they were all experiencing.

George, it’s been such a pleasure to meet you, Dory said sincerely, But I think it’s time for me to go home now. My step-daughter Becky will be expecting me, and boy do I ever miss Dan.

George laughed pleasantly and said, But of course, I understand! Just be remembering, he added with a twinkle, That I am always available. And I have the ‘whole book’ in my carpet bag.

Haha! Dory laughed a trifle rudely. The forgetting chapter… why, she had already forgotten about that! Her mind was already on other things… Dan for instance……

Sanso emerged from the dark cave, squinting in the bright sunlight. He could hear a bit of a commotion going on, and while his eyes adjusted to the light, he heard a voice in his head reciting as if from a book:

« Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson helped his wife Floribunda onto the camel, and clamboured onto his own. Cranky and Illi were mounted on donkeys, as were Tibn Zig and Tanlil Ubt, their local guides. Three hot dusty days, and two bitterly cold nights away lay their destination: Tsnit n’Agger and the home of the legendary giant of the…… »

Sanso found himself looking into the eyes of a curious child, and presumed correctly that the child was Illi. Illi stared at the apparition in indigo blue robes, without mentioning him to the other members of her group. After some moments of wordless communication and understanding, they winked at each other.

Sanso, Illi now knew, would lead them to the giant bones.

Vinya Grey left the laboratory, and projected home to her pod. Her genetics experiments were coming along nicely.

(Becky was wondering whether she really knew enough about the subject to write about it, and decided to do some more research before continuing her entry about the 23rd century)

As Sean pushed open the door of the Dunloughpadraisobahairiedunkennyloughaire Arms, the swirling dampness of the Dublin street was transformed into a scene of noisy smoky conviviality. He pushed his way slowly through the crowd towards the bar, glancing up at Oscar the pub parrot, who was singing the refrain from The Irish Rover.

The usual, Padraig, Sean said to the barman, and a packet of cheese and onion crisps.

He found a stool to sit on next to a sticky ringed round table surrounded by plump gossiping matrons and wiry cloth capped men with bulbous red veined noses. Sean exchanged a few pleasantries with them about the weather, mainly about how unpleasant the weather always was, and then lapsed into reverie.

The Big Apple…..that’s what they used to call the famous city, before they renamed it New Venice. Sean was curious to see the changes, not least the bright yellow gondolas that had replaced the taxi-cabs in the watery streets.

On impulse, Sean fished his mobile telephone out of his pocket and dialed Tina’s number, but the line was engaged. He finished his pint of Guinness and called to Padraig to pull him another one. He tried Tina’s number again; this time a recorded message informed him that Tina had switched her telephone off.

An hour and a half and seven pints later, Sean gave up trying to phone Tina and lurched home to bed.

Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson helped his wife Floribunda onto the camel, and clamboured onto his own. Cranky and Illi were mounted on donkeys, as were Tibn Zig and Tanlil Ubt, their local guides. Three hot dusty days, and two bitterly cold nights away lay their destination: Tsnit n’Agger and the home of the legendary giant of the Alal’ Azntignit.

Cranky was feeling like a fish out of water in the desert, but Illi had taken to it like a duck to water. Not that there was alot of water about in the desert, Cranky grumbled to herself. What she wouldn’t have given for a nice hot cup of tea and a crumpet. She looked at Illi and her face softened. Just look at the delight in that dear childs eyes, she said to herself. My, but she’s a chip off the old block. Make herself at home anywhere, she would. Or make her home anywhere, Cranky thought, wistfully remembering their games of Wish House back at Rubbingdon.

Let’s just hope Lord Gus finds those bones quickly and we can all go home.

Yann was wandering about in a pet shop, looking for nothing in particular.

Quintin had said something about inserting the shift now… well, that sucked… Yann was in a very bad mood, feeling like everyone was against him, nothing was going as he wanted to, and most of all he had lost inspiration. No desire to draw, or to write anything. His life was not fitting. Or so it seemed.

Looking closer to the bird cages, and the birds inside, he was amazed at their similarities and their differences. Their shapes and sizes, their colors was the obvious parts. Their shouting also, it was quite messy, and stridulent. But what he noticed most was their behavior, some were just living their own life, proud of themselves and quite fearful when Yann was getting closer to the cage, and others were just flocking together like they couldn’t live apart. Some were singing, some crying, some just quiet and moving nervously or randomly…

He went to the parrots room, it was written babies on the cages… they were like full sized parrots to him, very big birds!!! very colorful and impressive. But looking closer, they were not so healthy, their feathers were sort of dull, and even bad shaped and like the parrot had been attacked savagely :yahoo_thinking:. Not very impressive eventually.

A few days ago things had become quite erratic at his work… he had felt a strong desire to change, change everything. First he couldn’t understand that desire and he resisted strongly, but soon he created some uncomfortable manifestations. Breathing difficulties, headaches, itching, and even boredom. He just felt the desire to tell bugger off to everyone.

The birds were getting boring actually, he left the shop.

Walking in the street among the crowd was kinda soothing his uneasiness… though at times he was like feeling what they were strongly projecting. There was that Muslim woman with her chador, and as she went right past him he had that twinge of anger against her, coming from nowhere, and as soon as he noticed that, he just moved his attention to his energy and it was over, no more anger or polarization. Was it his own feelings or was it from that young woman?

Whatever, he just enter another shop, home shop, with little thingies and furniture… all these statues, the ones looking like 1920’s ladies were the most appealing… and there were these fairies also, wasn’t it Fiona who had told him about a dream where she was the fairy princess?

Oh! that pic… the man had a blue skin… with dolphins on his face creating shadows… the pic was a blend of sort, very funny, and the man was cute as was the shop assistant…

Time to leave… he went off the shop and continued walking. Bright sun, fresh air, all was clearing. His mood also. He thought again about what he and Quintin had been planning. It seemed something crazy, but it also seemed related to what was happening in his life. Since Vienna, their relation had become closer and closer, and for the most part it was very endearing, very fun and also very intense. All these energies, all this creativity, it had to be part of a bigger picture.

Thinking about that, his friend Dory had told him about a bigger picture once, and he was teasing her about that… but now it was making sense. His abilities to remember his dreams had increased in a way, though most of the time he did not remember his dream in the morning. He’d noticed he could if he was just relaxing a bit and let his attention go back to that dream self of his… At times he had also some weird experiences about parallel realities and shift of perception, like the room is translucent and he can move through it in another dimension, very freaky that one

Illi was quite pleased with the sand dragons.

HHHMMM, they don’t repulse me like dragons usually do. I think it’s because they are sand dragons, and sand is so much nicer than slimy cold scales. Well! Illi thought, I really wouldn’t know if they are slimy or cold, because, for the love of all-that-is, I would not choose to venture that close!

Illi chose to ignore her rather paradoxical musings on loving all that is, which would by definition include the beastly dragons, and turned her attention to the sand giant slouching patiently at the end of the beach.

Now giants, that’s another thing entirely. I am quite enamoured of giants, and this one looks so familiar!

Illi leaned back against the sand dragons bulky body and closed her eyes, reminiscing about her early years as Illi Fergusson, and her eccentric family.

When Illi was a young child she rarely saw her parents, the eccentric Lord Gustard Willoughby Fergusson and his charmingly batty second wife, Floribunda Chaiise-Loriket. Illi stayed at home in the anscestral country pile in Dorset, Rubbingdon Hall, with Nanny Chraddock while her parents travelled the world in search of giant bones and artifacts. Their travels took them far and wide, from the jungles of South America to the deserts of North Africa; from the mountains of Spain to the arid eternity of the Australian outback.

Illi used to play a game with Cranky (as she affectionately called nanny Chraddock) in the long months while her parents were away, called Wish House. Every room in the sprawling Elizabethan house was a different time and place, and the moment they entered the room they imagined themselves to be different people, in other times. Petunia Duster the maid loved to join in too; consequently not alot of housework got done, but with Gus and Flora always off travelling, nobody minded. Playing was, after all, so much more important than dust. In fact, a thick layer of dust made the rooms all the more mysterious and magical.