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  • #1823

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Among the tons of syncs during our trip, this one was pretty funny:
      In the 777 plane from NY to Paris, in the advertisement channel of the airline company, there was this (believe it or not) http://watermelon.org (ref.)

      #1141
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Al was greatly pleased to see that the telepathic communication between themselves was going better by the day.

        With Becky in her plane to Long Pong talking to Tina in New Venice, while he and Sam were listening on their way to the dolphins ranch of their friends Marfisa and Rogero in the Floridisles

        … what a great pleasing way it was, to spend the time of the trip!

        #1140
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          “Well, what ARE you going to do about the door”, Tina asked Becky.

          “Hell if I know, Tina! Have you got any ideas?”

          Tina shook her head. “Maybe Al or Sam will come up with something. Just leave the thread hanging for months, why don’t you, that’s what you usually do.”

          Becky laughed. “Al keeps reminding me about it for some reason, you know what he’s like.”

          “Well, here’s an idea: Let the characters decide for themselves what happens next. Don’t plan it, just watch it, and report back, you know what I mean?” Tina suggested.

          “Hey there’s an idea! Good thinking, Batwoman!” Becky said, hugging Tina. Then she grinned. “Isn’t that what’s been happening all along?”

          #1138

          Phlynn the gamekeeper while seducing Lady Theresa Eagleston was secretly using the Potting Shed to made secret experiments on watermelons.
          So far, he had managed to create a very promising hybrid variety crossed with carnivorous plants brought by Hector from his exotic trips.
          The productivity of the plants was far better, and he was making a damn fine liquor from the sweet nectar, but he had to hunt more game to feed the little beast…

          He hoped T’eggy wouldn’t be too curious about the strange jolts and jerks behind the door. Or he would have to roger that… err, to remedy this delicate situation.

          #1135

          — “Dory?”
          — “What, hon’?” a distracted Dory answered to young Becky
          — “You’d better remove the magnets from the iron, or you’ll ruin another one…”
          — “What are you talking about?!” Dory was perplexed, trying to find her way through the airport to Gate 57-¾, but only to find nothing but benches in between Gate 57 and 58.
          — “Oh, never mind… It’s only a dream and you probably won’t remember it anyway.”

          “There!” the suspicious bag lady of the Heathrow terminal had reappeared briefly just for Dory to spot her entering the restrooms.
          Becky was already rolling the heavy bumper-stickers patched suitcase to follow her without question.

          — “But why are you taking the suitcase to go to the bathroom, Beck’?”
          — “What are you talking about Dory!” Becky was sometimes losing patience. “Can’t you see it’s the entrance for Gate 57-¾?!”
          — “Uh?” A moment of clueless mystery on Dory’s face. “Oh…” Another mini-black hole on her face.

          “Oh. Okay then. Let’s go…”

          If there was something that her exotic life had taught Dory, it was to never question the moment. If the circumstances are here, if the impulse is there, then go for it. Explanations will follow. And in case they don’t, make them up as you roll and rock!

          Becky meanwhile was rather surprised at how people, even her own step-mother, as tuned in ghostly stuff as she was, most of the time failed to see the things for what they really are. And if these big painted letters on the door “GATE 57 ¾” weren’t obvious enough, and people preferred to interpret them as restrooms, then… what else could be done? She sighed.
          Later on, she would learn that it was a common, well documented trait in human consciousness; that people were sometimes psychologically (but not physically) blind to stuff outside of their current focus of attention, or simply blind to things too far off their beliefs; in other terms, it was a matter of energy reconfiguration. As long as it worked…

          “Oh look at that… Yukailli Airlines counter is here! What bloody stupid idea to put a closet door at the entrance…”

          After having made the departure arrangements at the counter, Dory came back to Becky who was looking outside at the planes.

          — “Ain’t them beautiful?”
          — “Yeah, and I suppose you’re seeing planes, aren’t you?”
          — “Err, yes of course, what else, silly… Though now you ask me, they seem a bit weird… foggy or something”.

          In fact, what Becky was seeing wasn’t conventional planes. It was more like “fly-boats”. Some sorts of hybrid ships made to fly with huge wings transparent and shiny like those of flies.

          — “I hope they have crunchy coleslaw for meal, I’m starving” a contented and tired Dory said, when she collapsed into the comfortable seats.

          #1134

          Georges and Salome’s journal

          From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 1)

          Georges being involved more and more within the Quorum of Jokans, it has enabled me, if only by proxy, to get more acquainted with the personality of each of them.
          The Guardians are an ancient and very distinctive race which is, in many aspects, surprisingly similar to our Dream Walkers. One of these points of similarity is their aptitude at morphing their environment, and altering much of the physical properties of it within their dimension of operation.
          I suspect that, similarly to our Dream Walkers being responsible for the creation of physical focus as we currently experiment it in our Earth dimension, they are also for a great part responsible for the creation of many a species in the neighbouring noospheres —note that I shall occasionally use “Noosphere” as a word more apt to convey certain notions rather than the word “planet” which is loaded with certain beliefs.

          I will not enter into the social details of the race of the Guardians in this note, as it would be too long for this place, and Georges will probably explain it in more details later.
          However, I shall use this as an opportunity to introduce a character who soon became a close ally in our explorations of this universe.
          As a matter of fact, I came as a surprise to both of us when she started to pierce through Georges disguise, flawless as it may have been. We found out that they shared a connection which probably was the cause for their allowance of connection through the veils of their disguises in time and space.
          A rather elegant member of the Quorum of Twelve, Cil —as she is named, pronounced See’l — intuitively found out that we were not really who we claimed to be, especially that we were not from her known universe at all. But what could have been a difficult situation turned out for the best, as she was equally eager to discover about us, as we were about her people and universe.

          The recent reports of uprisings of the Zentauras was the matter which was seriously discussed, and it was decided as a favour from Noraam to Cil to allow her to go for an investigation on the Murtuane, to find out the reasons for this matter, if not the culprits among their kin.
          Needless to say that I was very much enthusiastic at the idea of having a guide to explain me more on the relationships at play…

          (Part 2)

          #2027

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          Jib
          Participant

            I think the cloud needs no explanation…

            hole portal late change trip dog usually beyond talking realized began smiled seemed strange quick shifting feeling baby white sent fun

            #1127

            It may have been the sudden change of environment, but Leörmn had great difficulty at staying focused.
            By staying focused, he meant more than just focusing his attention and thoughts. Actually, not much more, as nothing more than his thoughts and his attention were creating of everything —his body included. When he failed to focus as he was now, usually he simply started to disappear from other’s awareness, even though he could be aware that he was still present in their proximity. For most of his activity was happening in the Unseen, and his body was unnecessary for him to manipulate that environment.

            The twin dragons, Heckle and Jeckle were equally disturbed, but to a lesser extent, perhaps because their communicating together made their de-focusing less of a concern.

            The place where they had been guided to was really unusual. Unusual for dragons at least. Even possibly hostile.

            It was like crossing that door had made them turn the physical reality inside-out, and though it was very similar on the surface, the exterior was significantly different.

            Apart from the twins, Leörmn was feeling energies, strong energies focused nearby. They were possibly as strong as dragons’ energies, though their configuration was unfamiliar.
            Where were they? What was this place?

            Leörmn was feeling so powerful undercurrents that it was very disturbing. In his discomfort, he tried to reach for a familiar energy.

            :fleuron:

            In the pool, Salome was feeling the disturbance, as it was already making the cave wobble slightly ever since Leörmn had taken off.

            Georges was having fun shape-shifting his skin to get more dolphin-like slickness, and was trying to bring her into his games, but she was caught by the demanding feeling and couldn’t concentrate on the game.

            She made a foam bubble around herself to lift her up above the surface of the water. “There… I’ve always felt better in the air.” As a matter of fact, be it only the slight gain of altitude, but her thoughts felt clearer already.

            “Oh, my… They are on the Murtuane… Georges, you knew that?!”

            Georges was having too much fun to actually physically answer, but Salome knew he was more than vaguely aware of that.

            She went deeper into herself, trying to see what was the issue… As far as she knew, the Murtuane was very closely tied to the Duane, and actions made into one of the planet had repercussions onto the other. They were close counterparts for each element, and perhaps it was the drawing closer of these which had created an imbalance of some kind.
            “Yes…” she smiled. She was seeing how it could be made easier.

            She sent to Leörmn the clearest picture she could make, then popped her foam bubble, to gracefully dive into the pool, having changed her skin to that of a black and white killer whale.

            :fleuron:

            “Thank the Elder Gods,” Leörmn thought, as he just received the warm familiar energy of Salome from deep inside himself.

            So that was it… He had to find his counterparting Nirgual, and merge with her for the duration of their little excursion here.
            N’meôrl was the name. Salome had met her already a long time ago. She was a brilliant shade of abrigot (some orange smooth fruit).

            It would be quite easy actually. Like the Dragons, Nirguals were summoned by their true name, no matter the distance.
            Blessed be Salome

            Popping back into focus, Leörmn pronounced loudly “N’meôrl, I hereby summon thy!

            When the huge bird appeared all the others who had started to assail the dragon with question were startled.

            Contrary to all appearances, Leörmn was not a dragon of many words, so very few needed to be actually exchanged. The two creatures both knew what had to be done to preserve the balance. And even if they had not known, the pressure on their energy fields was so intense that the merging was just like two magnets drawing closer naturally.

            And One again they were.

            #1126

            When the plane to Long Pong finally took off, Becky (and Becky, and Dory) got the strangest feeling of déjà vu.

            #1125

            “Pffftt” said Bea. “Lost the bloody connection again.” She turned on the TV instead. She had been researching on the internet the three names that she had woken up mumbling ~ Gabor, Sindy and Swinde ~ and had just found something promising about interdimensional federations when the line went dead. Actually, the three names and the woman behind the desk in her dream had reminded her a bit of Oversoul 7.

            “Honestly, this bloody country! It’s like the dark ages” she muttered under her breath.

            Bea flicked through the news channels: sports on one, that boring election on another, more hurricanes on another channel……Bea paused her surfing when she saw the watermelon on a documentary channel. There was a pile of watermelons, and the narrator was explaining how the chimpanzees were sharing the watermelons with each other.

            Well what a coincidence! Bea thought, that’s a watermelon AND an ape sync. It must be a clue. HHmmm, sharing the watermelons…..

            And just think, if the line hadn’t gone dead at that very moment, that precise moment, I wouldn’t have turned on the TV, and I wouldn’t have seen the apes and the watermelons.

            Bea was momentarily speechless as she contemplated the perfect timing of everything. She was mesmerized and awestruck at the sheer vast intricacy of it all. Whoever is planning and organizing this incredible reality play I find myself in is nothing short of a genius, she thought, and went to wake up Leonora so that she could share the marvellous moment of revelation with her.

            “Oh for god’s sake Bea, you woke me bloody up to tell me that? Bugger off you rude tart” Leo replied crossly when Bea woke her and told her all about the astonishing coincidence. “Things like that are happening all the bloody time, or haven’t you noticed? That’s just Everyday Magic, for Flove’s sake, now piss off and let me get some sleep”

            But Bea had a feeling that this was much more than just Everyday Magic. This felt like something else, something incomprehensibly huge and wonderful. Not that Everyday Magic isn’t incomprehensibly huge and wonderful too, she reminded herself.

            Maybe is WAS “just” Everyday Magic after all….

            #1818

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              Interestingly, the random quote today was about Yikesy and after Jib made his comment reintroducing the little baby Ugling after quite some time without news, I found out this newsline in Yahoo about tropical storm Ike, in Florida Keys…

              And watching a StarWars blooper on youtube to show Jib for lack of better explanations, there was a “Marshall Hiroshima” in the credits… Synchs with Tracy and her friend (she’ll have to tell it if you want more details, but anyway, that’s another sync)

              #1119

              Sanso didn’t really have a plan at that point, so he just started walking, walking along the cave tunnels, trusting that he would find another portal/cave entrance soon to another adventure.

              Such was his trust and superb state of allowing,that no sooner had he thought of finding a portal and a new adventure, as he rounded the very next corner, a blaze of sunshine streamed into the cave and a gust of hot desert wind.”

              Becky had to admit there were some gems in amongst all these bloopers.

              “Such was his trust and superb state of allowing, that no sooner had he thought of finding a portal and a new adventure, as he rounded the very next corner….”

              #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.

              #1111
              Jib
              Participant

                With the winter coming so fast (no more season you see), Dory was busy tidying her patio waiting for the next plane to Long Pong.
                All the dusty trinkets and the artworks she had brought back from her different excavations; she had to put them into some shelter, just in case. Last week the temperature had plummeted so quickly. She had to take the warm clothes out of the closets and realized she also had to change some of them in the process. Some unfriendly moth had eaten the wool of her favorite sweater…
                She was feeling dull and empty. Almost like she had no more purpose. Doing that cleaning and tidying was a way of distracting herself from that impression, she knew it would pass.
                Since the departure of her friends, Yann and Yurick, she had felt a bit lonely, even with Dan being present.
                She lacked a new excavation project, one that would fill in her blood with excitement and passion.

                An odd thought made her shudder. For a moment she had considered the idea of having a baby.

                — “No!”
                Really, she should find something worthy of her unlimited energy and not something that would chain her in habits and force her attention outside of her. Though, she seemed quite short of energy lately… However, it was not the time, not the place… and merely not the life for it.

                She wondered : what were her friends doing?
                Yann and Yurick were most probably preparing their new book, and Finn had told her last time that she was on the verge of adopting a baby Orangatun“she would need spare jungle in her garden”, she chuckled at the sudden vision of Finn gardening her jungle… Well at least it would give her a good distraction.

                She stopped her tidying and came back inside the house. Where was the wireless phone again? Apparently everything was a mess… she’d have to rethink the “no” she had given Dan last time he had asked her if she needed a butler.

                Oh! under her former favorite sweater, of course! She took the phone and composed Finn’s number. Maybe she would extend her trip from Long Pong to New Zealand…

                #1926
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Q: Okay. What happens to things we create, like with
                  characters? Are they merely thought-forms, being extensions of
                  ourselves? Or do they … CAN they move on and become more?

                  ELIAS: This is dependent upon your choices and how you are
                  manipulating energy.

                  Now; in this, let us view what you in physical focus term to be
                  artistic expressions, in the area of musical composition and of
                  painting expressions. These are two obvious examples within your
                  physical creations that you may view certain qualities of the
                  expressions.

                  Now; in this, some expressions, within either musical compositions
                  or expressions of illustrations or paintings, may appear to be
                  merely an expression of the individual and hold the energy signature
                  of that individual, but they appear or seem to not extend any
                  farther, so to speak; this is figuratively speaking.

                  In other terms, you may encounter other types of musical
                  compositions or illustrated or painted compositions, and they appear
                  quite differently. They appear not merely to hold the energy
                  signature of the individual that has created them, but they also
                  seem to hold an energy of their own, as if they have been created
                  into an entity of their own.

                  Now; the reason that you connect with this recognition of these
                  types of expressions is that the composition does hold the energy
                  signature of the individual that has created it, but what it also
                  may hold is an aspect of that individual focus which has been
                  allowed to be projected outwardly and has been allowed to continue
                  independently of the focus.

                  This is a similar action to fragmentation, but in very physical,
                  figurative terms, a much, much smaller scale.

                  This would be likened to any individual, any focus, any essence
                  projecting an aspect of itself into any other element within its
                  physical creation – a creature, a plant, a rock. It matters not. You
                  hold the ability within essence to be projecting an aspect of
                  essence or of a particular focus into any of these elements to be
                  experiencing the creations of that element of your reality, such as
                  a creature or any vegetation, an ocean, a mountain, a rock. It
                  matters not.

                  In similar manner, you may project an aspect of yourself into one of
                  your creations or all of your creations or several of your
                  creations, and in this, not merely you shall recognize that this
                  creation appears to take on, so to speak, a life of its own, in your
                  terms, but other individuals shall recognize this quality also, for
                  you have allowed yourself to project an aspect of yourself into your
                  physical creation, therefore breathing into it its own
                  manifestation, allowing it to be continuing within its own element,
                  so to speak, within its own right, in a manner of speaking. Are you
                  understanding?

                  Therefore, this be your choice of how you shall be creating
                  within your creativity and what you shall project within it. Appear
                  it not strange to you that certain individuals may be deemed as
                  great masters and they shall be revered for their creations and
                  their creations shall be enduring throughout your linear physical
                  time, and other individuals may be creating and their expressions of
                  creativity do not hold this quality? This is the reason…”

                  #1089
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “Damn it, where’s Phlynn!” Finnley muttered under his breath. “Plan 57 isn’t bloody working! We won’t be able to lure Sir Coon into the library now with the promise of a little clandestine titilation, we will have to use force. But I can’t do it alone! Where is PHLYNN?!”

                    #1088
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      “That sinister Finnley had plans to do away with Sir Hector, in the library, before dinner.”

                      “Perhaps I should amend that entry”, Becky mused.

                      “What’s that you said, Sugar Plum?” asked Gayesh, nuzzling her ear.

                      “Oh bugger off, Gayesh, can’t you see I’m busy?” Becky snapped, moving her chair away from the amourous doctor. “I have to attend to this before it all gets changed. Now shut up and back off.”

                      The unflappable Gayesh smiled, and poured the powdery contents of a vial into her drink, and waited.

                      #1081
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        As soon as Finnley was out of sight of the potting shed, he ran like the wind towards the servants quarters below stairs. There wasn’t a moment to lose. Hector Coon would be arriving soon at Pilston and Plan 57 was about to be launched. Quickly Finnley unbuttoned his butlers jacket, dropped his sober grey trousers and inched himself into the pink tutu. Now all he had to do was lure the unsuspecting Sir Coon into the library….

                        #1080
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          That sinister Finnley had plans to do away with Sir Hector, in the library, before dinner.

                          #1074
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            “What on earth is Al suggesting now, I wonder” mused Becky, who was catching up with the latest additions to the Reality Play. Frowning, she wondered how to handle it. It was often a challenge when one of the other writers interfered with her story line plans.

                            “Well, be honest, Becky” she said to herself “You were floundering a bit with all this boring tropical romance stuff, wafting around the Facility with nothing more interesting to do than sip cool drinks and wink at Gayesh.”

                            Becky put the sheaf of printed pages on the table beside her, lost in thought. The warm still evening air was beginning to be stifling, and she felt trapped, smothered in the blue velvet embrace of the night, sickened by the scent of the perfumed flowers and rotting fruit, and suddenly bored beyond endurance.

                            “I’m going back home” she decided. “I’ll leave a deposit of cells here, swap places with Becky Tooh, and she can come back here and take her chances with Gayesh and the clone experiment.”

                            Perhaps her babies and her lush of a husband back home would be more exciting.

                            “I can always swap back again later if it gets tedious in New Venice” she added, having a moment of trepidation at the thought of her responsibilities as a mother of triplets. She liked to keep her options open, keep an escape plan on the back burner.

                            With a light heart and a spring in her step, she grabbed the papers off the table and ran upstairs to pack.

                            “Maybe a stop over in Long Pong on the way” she decoded. “Oh look at that!” she said to herself “I meant to say decided and wrote decoded instead. Pfft” she grumbled “That must be because I’m worried about decoding all the other strange additions to the Reality Play that have been spewed forth lately. Sheesh, do Al and Sam honestly think I will ever catch up now? Oh bugger it all, Long Pong, here I come!”

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