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  • #2258

    Oh, lifting cupbaords. For a minute I thought he was yawning about all the short comments.

    What on earth are you on about now, Heliptrope? asked Lavender, a trifle crossly.

    #2256

    Lavender stormed off to her bedroom, and threw herself on the bed. The flu was making her irritable, and she knew she was being snarky but couldn’t seem to stop herself. She sighed, and tried to relax. Within minutes she was fast asleep, snoring like a wart hog.

    #2596

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    As we have stated previously, these terms are quite limiting for explanation purposes. The terminology is not incorrect, by any means. It is only expressing a much, much smaller impression to you than, in actuality, these terms represent. If your interpretation of these terms is too literal, you may find yourself accepting concepts which have only been explained to you partially; for our explanation of concepts is only a minute portion of the entirety of any idea, or concept, or “doctrine.” Only playing, my friend! These concepts must be taken in at this present time, within your present understanding, to the intellect; and the intellect must be allowed to trigger the intuition, allowing a full circle of thought, so to speak; this full circle being a continuous flow of information to assimilation, to actualization, to creation ” — Patel

    Not AGAIN!! shouted Becky. For the past week every time she tried to open her blog page, it always opened on this old post of Patels. Usually, by a circuitous route, she did eventually manage to arrive on her most recent post…..but not today! That monkey Patel wouldn’t let Becky look at any other post but this.

    Funny coincidence really that she’d watched the cartoon last night called Madagascar, starrring Patel himself as King of the Lemurs. Becky had to laugh. A rave party of dancing lemurs on ecstasy!

    “Good Lord!” exclaimed Yoland. “Fancy landing on that Patel quote again today!”

    :yahoo_surprise:

    Yoland knew Patel was around when the frying sausages had popped and spit fat at her. She had lost count of the amount of times that Patel had popped in with this quote. More strings and circles….and lemurs, too! At the lunch party the previous day, Yoland had been discussing evolution, and the missing link, and the next day a lemur-like skeleton was being heralded in the newspapers as the missing link.

    Patel, as the missing link ~ Yoland had to laugh.

    :yahoo_laughing:

    #2564

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Yoland woke up feeling lighter somehow. The sun was shining, the young puppy, Phunn, scampered about without a care in the world as she perused the morning mail. The random daily Circle of Eight’s quote once again delighted her, synchronizing with her recent meditation.

      Fiona woke suddenly from a dream. In her dream she had been communicating with her online friends, through drawings and messages. She had been trying so hard to convey something, and the more she tried to say it, the more distant they felt to her.

      She had woken feeling saddened. Her energy was greatly disturbed, and, unable to get back to sleep straight away, she meditated. She felt herself connect with the energy of a Snowy Owl, who invited her wordlessly to ask her questions. The Owl’s eyes seemed to have such a depth of wisdom and kindness, and no sooner had her thoughts begun to ask their questions, than she would feel the Owl’s answer merge with her own knowing.

      She felt herself being able to say without words what she had tried so hard in her dream to convey, and understanding there was no need for any effort, she felt greatly comforted, and peaceful sleep swept over her again.”

      Yoland had sent an email to her freind KX about her meditation, as her freind had unexpectedly popped up in it, in a wonderful pastel watercolour world:

      The elevator stopped with a shudder and the doors slammed open. The landscape looked a bit too airy fairy for me (not real enough, haha!) and I nearly got back in the elevator. It was all aqua blue and pastel and floaty, like a watercolour world. Then I saw you, waving your arms around, painting the air with trails of pastel colours with your fingertips. You were smiling and wearing a pale blue shirt. You wrapped me round with spirals of colours from your fingertips and then I flew upwards into the dark blue. You tossed me a paper toilet roll to use as a silver cord, which I tossed back to you after a bit cos it felt a bit silly, and then you sent a burst of colours as an acknowledgement

      KX had responded:

      Yoland!!That is very very cool! I’ve been “out there”! I’ll bet you I was changing the toilet paper roll at the moment you were in the Watercolor World ! Meanwhile so many things are coming together for me in how to create and how to hold my attention where I want it… Imagination is a key ~ Love you! I will beam over in a minute. KX”

      Smiling, Yoland checked the latest blog updates. Sahila had posted some Possum photos, and the first thing that Yoland saw was the white owl in the fork of the tree behind the possum.

      :creating_magic:

      #2529

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      “You are where you are and I am where I am”, replied Sanso, “Which is always the centre.”

      “The centre of WHAT though, Sanso?” Arona replied. “One minute I’m in a cave, wandering around with a subal ~ subalti ~ sumalti ~ a sand thing, and a baby… Oh MY GODFATHERS! Where’s Yikesy? I’ve lost the baby!!”

      #2519

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Ann was rather surprised at the effect Godfrey’s words had had on her, innocuously mundane though they might have aooeared.

        Oh gosh, she exclaimed, Look at that typo. Ann started wringing her hands in vexation. I thought I’d escaped that silly OOH dimension.

        It took Ann quite some minutes to regain her composure.

        #2504

        In reply to: Strings of Nines

        The smell of the incense was giving her a sense of comfort and was helping her unfocus her attention in order to let the trance occur. She was one of the Seers of the Crimson Feather Order and when she was in a trance, the Goddess was speaking through her for those priests or priestesses who were seeking directions.

        The Seers usually had no memories of what was happening when they were speaking for the Goddess and they were usually coupled with a Witness so the message would not be altered by the requester to best suit his or her desire. Depending on the clarity of the message, a period of evaluation and interpretation could be necessary and in case of official communications it was then forwarded to every temple.

        Though in certain occasions the Witness could be missing as it was the case today. The archbishop Boorla had requested a meeting with no Witness, and in such cases the value of the information was only considered of personal nature. He was late, and she could put off the meeting if she wanted to, but a faint feeling was suggesting her to wait a bit longer.

        When he entered a few minutes later, introduced by her usual Witness, he seemed furious and having great difficulties containing his anger. He was a red long-haired cat and his collar was particularly imposing in such moments. She had to focus on herself and not let his irritation make her loose her balance for the trance. As the Witness left the room, she took a deep breath and purred gently as she began the ritual. The Requester had to keep silence until being invited to do ask their question and she needed some time to calm him.

        She felt at first his irritation grow as she was purposefully delaying the beginning of the trance, but he couldn’t resist longer the soothing purr of the Seer, and as she asked the ritual question, she felt her consciousness fading out.

        :fleuron:

        When she came out of trance, she was feeling sick, the delivery of the message had been interrupted and though he was silent she could feel the fury of the archbishop flowing like waves. Apparently the message didn’t please him at all, and he barely spoke the ending ritual Thanks to the Goddess before he left the room hissing.

        Though she was feeling tired and would need some rest, she couldn’t help wondering what had happen.

        #1271
        AvatarJib
        Participant

          Many people were gathered at the Soft Pool in the Garden of The Orientations.
          Some of them were sitting here still and smiling, their eyes closed and open to the different energies surrounding them. Some of them were standing others walking around and a few ones were running following seemingly random patterns. Their movements were the perfect match of the energy connections between each participant, physical and non physical.

          It was like a shining crystal, some rays of light/attention creating an instant connection and an instant energy exchange which need not be continuously maintained, many different connections were being created and were lasting as long as necessary, sometimes a few seconds, sometimes a few minutes, and others mere moments.

          His interactions fulfilled, Sam gathered his attention toward his new goal and he left the crowd at its game, the energy of the experience still present inside his energy field.

          #1258

          “Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Bea, as her freind Baked Bean Barb described the book she had just started reading. It was all about ancient inscriptions in Antartica, which was what Bea had been reading about online just before Barb arrived.

          “Some of it’s fact” Barb was saying “But the rest of it’s made up; interesting though!”

          “Oh, I can’t wait til they find remains of the civilization under the ice there!” Bea said, to which Barb replied “There’s no civilization there. Nope. There’s nothing ever been found, nothing at all scientifically proven about that. The book’s fiction.”

          “Well, they haven’t found it yet, Barb ~ if the scientists had proof, it would be found already. Until things are found they don’t exist?”

          “There’s nothing there, there’s no proof!” Barb said firmly, shaking her head.

          “What about all the new things we keep finding out about, before we knew about them, they didn’t exist, is that what you mean?” Bea persisted, trying to get her point accross. Then she wondered why she was trying to get her point accross in the first place. She knew what her point was.

          Well, at least I think I do, she said to herself.

          “Fancy a cuppa, Barb? Leo bought some nice nettle teabags, how’s that sound?”

          Ooh yes please! Got anymore of those gingerbread men?”

          Sometimes the actual point wasn’t at all the same thing as the point you thought you were making. Bea gave herself points for noticing this, although she wasn’t at all sure what the point of the whole thing was, objectively anyway. Distraction tactics always worked, but once summoned, the distractions were indiscriminate and chaotic. On the way to the kitchen to put the kettle on, Bea glanced out of the window and noticed a shaft of light illuminating the rocks and casting deep shadows into the crevices, the resulting effect looking for all the world like mysterious ancient inscriptions. She reached out for her camera, which was always conveniently handy, as she strode out of the door, single minded in pursuit of the capture of a moment of light as if drawn by a magnet, or reeled in like a fish.

          Barb eventually found her, some 57 minutes later, pruning the oleander down by the stream.

          #1223

          Becky sipped her coffee nervously, chain-smoking as she waited for Al and Sam to return from the crystal shopping excursion. She wasn’t sure if Al would approve of yet more characters in the Reality Play with so many loose threads already, all getting tangled up and dusty like so many balls of wool under the bed. Like dust bunnies, Becky thought with a chuckle. It was funny how the play had so many different moods, almost as if it had a life of its own. Well, I suppose the play itself is a sort of focus of attention in its own right, a conglomeration of the energies of a variety of essences, creating its own reality from its own perspective. But wait a minute, thought Becky, lighting up another cigarette, how is that different from me, for that matter? I am a conglomeration of the energies of fragmented essences creating my own reality from my own perspective too. Does that make me nothing more than a Reality Play —or, does that make the play a Focus of Essences?

          The line of thought was giving Becky a bit of a headache so she flicked through Al’s latest entries. Clever old Al had been tapping into his Spreal focus when he came up with those silly names, funny how it often worked out like that. A nonsense word here, a bit of gibberish there, none of it meaningless, and none of it meaning anything absolute, either. The secret of life, Becky decided, was in Not being Afraid Of Nonsense. People were so afraid of Nonsense, as if to be caught speaking Nonsense was a heinous crime, or at best a severe handicap, possibly resulting in some form of custody or social alienation. All you had to do was find other people who resonated with your own version of Nonsense, which happened automatically anyway vibrationally. There are thousands variations of Nonsense, and none of them make any more sense than any other, thanks to the Equality In Nonsense underground movement a few decades ago. Equality In Nonsense was started by a group of online friends a few years after the Ministry Of Common Sense had disbanded through lack of interest. It caught on quickly, making a mockery of common sense, which went underground, a few die-hards hanging on with grim faced tedium to the old tenets. Over the years, as the Acceptance Of Nonsense Rights was established, the Equality In Nonsense brigade disbanded to get down to the business of creating new variations of Nonsense, just for fun —which was of course, The Point. Nevertheless, or should I say, notwithstanding, Becky smiled, there still remained a degree of common sense in the general populace, which possibly wasn’t altogether a bad thing.

          It all got a in a bit of a muddle for awhile, until some enterprising folks published the handy guide books ‘Cooperation Within Nonsense ~ How To Communicate In Your Chosen Nonsense’, and ‘Accepting Total Nonsense ~ How To Deal With The Nonsense Of Others’.

          :fleuron:

          “Roots” exclaimed Elizabeth “I forgot the theme word!”
          “No doubt you’ll come up with an ingenioos way to slide it in, Liz” replied Godfrey with a smirk. “Pass the poonuts.”

          A disgruntled Elizabeth rewrote:

          “Rats!” I forgot the theme word!”

          Unfortunately, Pig Littleton insisted on using the OOh dimension vernacular, and Elizabeth tutted and hit send.

          #1217

          It took Akita a few minutes to come back to himself, and a few more to make sense of the situation.

          At first he thought a huge six-eyed hairy creature was staring at him, but then the blur started to dissipate and he recognized by order of appearance, Sharon the divine, Gloria the brave, and Mavis the eloquent.

          — Shtttt! He’s coming back!
          — Are you okay? How many fingers do I have?
          — Oh, shut up Glor, we’d better be quick before they all come back from lunch; rather carry him on my back than having to eat their bloody penguin grub once again!
          — Oh, all my fur for a few scones with a cup of Earl Grey!

          “Mmmm…” Akita managed to say “Where on Earth did you get those expensive fur coats? and why are you keeping them under your blouses?!”… “And where was Kay when he needed it?” he asked to himself.

          “Oh, bugger it” shouted Sharon “no time for explanations, let’s move now! Chop, chop! Glor, you take the snet and the ropes, Mav’ all the watermelbombs you can get; and don’t blow yourself up; I’ll take Akitoo. To the snow scooters’ hangar! Now!”

          #1214
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            “This is a long process, Godfrey , a very long process” Elizabeth said with a wry chuckle. She had left her characters to their own devices for so long she didn’t know where to jump in again with her directing.

            “The process is the point, dear” Pig Littleton replied dryly. “Pass the peanuts, would you?”

            “There are hundreds of probable possibilities, in fact there are so many of them that I hardly seem able to find a place to start.”

            “Start anywhere Liz, and then stop when you’re finished.” Godfrey said with his mouth full of peanuts. “Ideas are like peanuts, you can savour them one at a time…”

            “Or shove a whole handful in your mouth at once, eh Piggy” retorted Elizabeth, frowning as Godfrey tried to munch, swallow and speak all at the same time. “If I shove too many in my mouth at once, I can’t remember each individual peanut, it all becomes a glob of sticky….”

            “Peanut butter spread? And what’s wrong with that?” Pig Littleton smiled.

            “Well for one thing Godfrey, all those bits of peanuts stuck in your teeth is rather off putting you know.”

            “Why?” asked Godfrey.

            “Why?” Elizabeth repeated, perplexed.

            “Yes, why? Why do you perceive the physical evidence of my enjoyment of peanuts captured for a moment between my teeth as off putting?”

            “When you put it like that, dear Piggy, I confess I don’t have an answer” Elizabeth replied with a snort. “As a matter of fact, I have no idea where this conversation is leading at all!”

            “Aha, and there you have it!”

            “Have what, Godfrey? What on earth do you mean?”

            “Well, why should it be leading anywhere in particular? The process is the point, Liz, not the destination!”

            “Hang on a minute, are you trying to tell me that this conversation about peanuts is a meaningful process with a point?”

            Godfrey Pig Litteton laughed, spraying bits of peanut everywhere and nearly choking. “Who said anything about meaningful?”

            “Well what’s the point of it if it isn’t meaningful?”

            “If it’s meaning you want, you can read all sorts of things into it. On the other hand, if it’s fun you want, why worry about meaning?”

            Elizabeth shook her head, perplexed. “Is it fun that I want?”

            “Don’t you know?!” asked Godfrey, in mock surprise.

            “Well of course I want fun! Everyone does, surely!”

            “Then why” Godfrey said with exaggerated patience “worry about meaning?”

            “I’m not worried about meaning, Piggy, you’re twisting my words, you tricky rascal!”

            “My dear Elizabeth, I quote you: ‘What’s the point of it if it isn’t meaningful’”

            “Pfft” she replied. “I might delete that comment. Trouble is, if I do, the rest of it won’t make sense.”

            “Worried about making sense now, are we, dear?” said Godfrey with a sly grin.

            Godfrey, you’re making me sound so old fashioned, worrying about sense and meaning! Pass the peanuts.”

            #1209

            From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Phoebe Chesterhope. Part II

            She wasn’t paying attention to the other clients. She was like one of these statues at Madame Tussauds, still and beautiful, surrounded by mystery. Was she lost in her thoughts? Her rich clothes suggested that she was fortunate and the anxious look the jeweller was giving her every 2 minutes let me think that she was also quite influencing.

            About ten minutes after we had entered the shop with Catherine, a man arrived. Small and bald, poorly dressed, he was carrying a parcel wrapped in a piece of rough fabric that he was holding very carefully. The owner almost jumped on him in his rush and told him something briefly before he introduced him to Madam Tussaud, her face suddenly filled up with life. Not that she was smiling or welcoming him in any manner, but her eyes were suddenly sparkling with determination. I realized that she was taking on herself not to look too obviously at the parcel.

            “I expect you have a more private place so we can discuss our arrangement with mister…”
            “Fessard, Madam. Roger Fessard.”
            “Whatever…” she took her time to look openly at the other customers before she continued, staring reproachfully at the man. “I need some privacy to evaluate what he brought me.”

            Her accent was almost perfect and her french flawless. But faking to be a stranger myself most of the time, I was sure she wasn’t from here… maybe Britain.

            “Of course, Madam” said the owner in his conspicuous servile tone. He led Madam and Roger to a door behind the counter and they entered the room; the bald man put his packet on a table and began to unwrap it as Madam said sharply to the jeweller : “Leave us.” The damn man obeyed and closed the door before I could see anything more.

            #1204
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              “What did you do with Baba Yolanda?” the usual gang asked Angela Goose when they saw her coming alone.

              “Oh bugger Baba the Loon, I’ve put her in an Eiders Nursing Home, she’ll be comfy there and I’ve got enough feather ruffling at home, I had to admit the Eiders Nursing Home are more equipped than I am.”

              “Oh, zheers Angela, good zing for you” Jobby the baby pygmy hippo wanted to applause. “Now we can go see Barry the White Bear!”

              “Hang on a minute,” Angela interrupted “Don’t you think we should enroll Baboona and Obaboon? They are quick-witted and smart like humans those two, could be helpful to worm a bit of information out of Barry…”

              “Oh, that’s it, you don’t think we’re good enough, how rude” Weirdy the Weasel feigned being hurt

              “Oh, stop it Weirdy, we’re all fine, you’re right; let’s go now, we’ll see what comes when it comes…”

              #1825

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                A synch worth noting:

                A few minutes or hours after I had written this comment T.P. came back online and she told be that

                • she had received a phone call earlier in the morning from a Yolanda who had repeated twice her name, like it was something important
                • While she was driving with her guest, she mentioned loons (birds looking like ducks) and they discussed yodeling (loons have a cry similar to these sounds)
                #1201

                It wasn’t very difficult for Akita to have the door opened. Having Kay roam unnoticed in the rooms and corridors next to his cell made things very easy actually, giving him enough time to do his things.
                He’d known the art of lock-picking since he was a child, and he would have been able to open that door’s latch blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, with only his big toe and dental floss… so old this one was.

                So in a few minutes he was out; a few minutes later, he had found a proper military outfit in the lockers, Kay had been giving him the codes of, and as everyone was gone for the lunch break, the whole area was deserted.

                The greenhouse room was open, and a blinding light was pouring into it.

                “You didn’t tell me what made these watermelons special” Akita turned to the phantom dog.

                “Why don’t you have a try by yourself… Take a little one over there, and throw it on the opposite wall”

                Akita did as instructed, then backed off quickly blown off by the explosion .

                “Watermelbombs? are you kidding?”

                “Not really; it’s sad, but people have done lots of researches here to produce bio-degradable weapons easily grown. I think it wasn’t a coincidence you and the others have been brought here”

                “The others? You mean… Oh sh*t, I forgot the ladies, don’t tell me they’re still here?”

                “Yep, they are here. And they’re quite ready to fight for their survival too, believe it or not”

                “Oh, I don’t have any trouble seeing them as fierce warriors!”

                #1182

                “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that you’re a Parcel Delivery company, and you don’t have a map? You deliver parcels and you don’t have a map, you don’t have the internet, and your delivery man doesn’t have a phone?”

                Bea was beginning to sound exasperated, Leonora thought. Must be the parcel people. “Parcel people?” she asked. “ A mobile phone wouldn’t be any use here anyway, Bea” she added “There’s no network cover.”

                “My address?” Bea said into the telephone in an increasingly desperate voice. “Three people have called asking for my address” Bea took a deep breath and tried to change her energy. “My address is The House Down The Road Behind The Black Horse Bar” Bea paused for breath and continued “Through The Green Gates which are Behind The Fountain And Next To The Palm Tree. Tomorrow? You were supposed to come today! You were supposed to come yesterday as a matter of fact so I stayed home all day…”

                “You weren’t going out anywhere anyway, BeaLeo said mildly.

                “Well I won’t be here tomorrow, can you just leave the parcel at the post office? What? Of course they’ll know who it’s for, it’ll have my bloody name and address on it! What? No, I don’t know what street the post office is on, haven’t you got a map? No? Well Google it! You’re kidding. You’re a parcel delivery company! What’s your name, by the way?”

                “Well would you believe it, she hung up on me!”

                “How wonderfully Spanish” said Leonora. “Remember the last parcel people? Wouldn’t deliver to houses without a number. So if I go out and paint a number, let’s say 57, on my gate, you’ll deliver the parcel, I said to them, and they said, well yes I suppose so, so I did. I went out to the shed and grabbed the first paint…”

                “That swimming pool blue”

                “…yeah bit bright isn’t it, that blue paint and I painted the number on it, and the neighbours came out and asked what I was doing…”

                “They delivered the parcel though, didn’t they Leo

                “They did. There’s a knack to dealing with parcel people.”

                Bea was quiet for a few minutes and then asked “What’s that then?”

                “What’s what?” asked Leonora.

                “What’s the knack? How do you get parcel people to deliver?”

                Leo laughed and said she didn’t really know. “Change your energy, make a game of it, see what happens.”

                Just then the phone rang. Bea answered it.

                “Well how about that” said Bea, hanging up the phone a few moments later. “That was the parcel delivery man. He’s on his way now.”

                Five or six hours later, just after the parcel delivery man had finally arrived, Bea beamed as she opened the brown cardboard parcel.

                “I’ve been dying to read this, it’s the sequel to T’Eggy Gets a Good Rogering. I ordered two copies, I thought Baked Bean Barb might want one too, you know, as a bit of a thank you for the book she’s bringing round for us.”

                Leo said “You what!” and rolled her eyes. “Really Bea, couldn’t you have chosen something better than that?”

                “Define ‘better’, Miss Prim Prunes” retorted Bea. She was too happy about the books arrival to mind Leo’s remarks. Then she shouted “OH MY GOD! They’ve sent the wrong books!” so loudly that Leo jumped.

                “Good grief!” exclaimed Leonora, taking a closer look. “Circle of Eights! But that’s the book that Baked Bean Barb found on the rubbish tip, the book she’s bringing round for us!”

                “I don’t believe it!” Bea whispered, awed by the bizarre coincidence. “That’s the book with us in it.”

                “What a hoot!” said Leo.

                #1146

                “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

                “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

                “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

                “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

                “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

                Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

                Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

                “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

                Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

                “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

                Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

                I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
                and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
                The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
                Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
                in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
                but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

                “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

                Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
                I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
                Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
                but I carried on anyway.

                “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

                 It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
                (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
                of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
                fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
                a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
                onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
                was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

                “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

                “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

                A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
                going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
                the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

                “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

                Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

                “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

                I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

                “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

                “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

                I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
                was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
                and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
                and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
                Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
                curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
                knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
                when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
                and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
                the same place, clutching the banister.

                “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

                “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

                “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

                “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

                Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

                “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

                Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

                “Pffft” said Bea.

                “More coffee?”

                #1112

                The island had never felt as populated as these past hours. Veranassesee didn’t know really which way to turn, really.

                “Gather your wits, V” she told herself.

                Obviously, it was a bit difficult, she had a terrible time to concentrate. The past few hours felt like they were stretching on forever in time, for no reason at all?

                Take that mmm… wanton memory of the night with Agent Gabriele ; it was still fresh on her mind, and yet, she could hardly tell whether Gabriele was still around in his bungalow, or whether he had left… Feelings of guilt on her part perhaps. Well, it had taken her no less than forty pages… what was she saying? It had taken her no less than forty minutes to come back to him and fall with blissful abandon in his hairy manly arms, and that could as well have been happening two, three months ago for all matter and purpose.

                Perhaps that was the work of evil aliens tampering with her mind and memories. Hardly an excuse, she had been trained for far worse occurrences. She had to list her priorities.
                Gabriele.
                Well, her mission of course. What were you thinking? Now that plan B seemed to have failed miserably, Operation Spider seemed likely to be a total fiasco.
                She had apparently lost the item in a purple blood trail, and there was that fishy Jarvis she had to take care of too.
                But somehow, if she could get that item back, perhaps she could redeem herself. Or else, dreary Fukitupi and Mahiliki would be waiting for her. Hardly a consolation.

                Of course, as if to add to the total disarray of her plans and desire to have things neatly organized, the Higloshama gang (that’s how she liked to call the three atomic divas — Mavis, Sharon and Gloria) had once again disappeared from their pods, probably to gaze at the moon in-between a few cyclones… Well, in any case, they would find a way to get back. If pigeons do, why not them?

                As for the other patients, the door was closed, and they probably were asleep. Oh, and in any case, ugly-faced as they were, they probably couldn’t get far without triggering a trail of fear howling. She had to admit, she was sourer than usual. Anyway… down the list of problems.

                Ah, the doctor of course. Well, he could go to hell, but that would be doing her too big a favour.

                The sound of the plane coming to the island drew her out of her calculations. As she was adjusting her holster to greet the untimely airborne visitors, she sent a brief mental note as a leitmotiv to herself so that she wouldn’t forget “find the bee-man, Jarvis, Jarvis, Jarvis…”

                And she did right.
                She almost lost her composure when she recognized Mahiliki on the plane.

                #1815

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  Funny thing is that I never go check the members stats and then I wanted to go just a few minutes ago.
                  It showed me that I had 353 comments and 1053 visits :D
                  And that Tracy has more posts than she has visits :)) and she managed to do the 957th comment.

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