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  • #1749

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Last night the guests asked where Lucknow Crescent was as they had friends to visit. I had heard of it, but being really bad with directions just gave them a map.

      Today, walking home from the supermarket I started thinking about synchs. At that moment some workmen in a truck pulled up and asked me if I knew where Lucknow Crescent was.

      Thinking about this synch … a couple of things struck me … the name is interesting and also that I did not know where it was.

      (just as i wrote that i noticed a monarch butterfly out of the corner of my eye fly in front of the window, the association here for me is a quote from Abraham I like about the meaning of butterfly signs .. or synchs )

      As a sort of symbolic thing, i am going to find out were Lucknow Crescent is. As soon as I went to look it up i suddenly remembered where it was.

      #804
      Jib
      Participant

        He was sitting at his desk in his study room. He was alone, reading a report on the emerging clan of the teardrop Island of Tur. Their Elders were apparently beginning to gather some influence upon their kin. The Rule of the Guardians was still prevalent, even though it was now being questioned by these humans. The fear impressed upon their mind for centuries was strong enough to keep them away from the caves leading to the portals, yet from day to day it was diminishing. The Guardians could feel it, but it mattered not, now.

        Sinadron scratched his head with his left hand. He was old by the standard of the Guardians. A few centuries. He was one of the strongest along with 2 of the others. Noraam and Keliom, who were still in their youth, were 2 of the 12 other Gates, the higher honorific among them. Their influence was strong as they were the focal points of the powers of their people in the most powerful rituals.

        Pushing back the report, he took the wooden cookie jar. Once opened, the smell of the Langurdy cinnamon spread all over the space. Intoxicating scent. He was quite fond of this commodity, rare and sophisticate, the cookies were made by humans. Sinadron was thankful to them in the culinary area. The metabolism of the Guardians was quite different from that of the humans, and their preferences in matter of food were also quite different, though they could share some of them, and the Landurdy cinnamon was one.

        He had been so engrossed in his appreciation of the spice that he hadn’t noticed the nudging in his left arm. When he finally realized that someone was trying to contact him he closed the jar and put it back in place, beneath his key. He took his hand capacitor and focused on the kinesthetic movements of the molecules of his arm. It was his preferred method to focus on the caller’s energy. The vibrations were those of Nareena, one of the Gates of the Phréal. She wouldn’t let her energy merge in such intimacy, though she knew his interest.

        Sinadron took a more comfortable position on his rocky chair and directed its energy in such a way that it would adapt to the form of his body consciousness. Slowly reconfiguring so he could relax more fully.

        In a flash all was said. She’d given him an energy ball and he had captured it, using his capacitor to store it up. No more interaction was necessary, and from the surface of the message ball, he knew it was not so important. He would consult it later. Sitting up, he put his still glowing capacitor on his desk and took back his cookie jar while the rocky chair was reconfiguring again to adapt to his new position.

        What a smell… :chomping:

        #803

        The room was chilly and silent when she awoke. The transition between her dream and the reality was like a cold shower on her aching body. It was still the middle of the night, even the guards were noiseless. She managed to bring her body close to the wall with the only window far above her head. Her thin clothes weren’t sufficient to keep the warmth into her flesh and she couldn’t restrain a shiver. How painful this could be after such a vivid dream.

        She winced when one of her right thigh muscles decided to contract on its own and wouldn’t let go of the tensions. She tried to relax and breathe as deeply as she could, which made her cough repeatedly and that was even more painful. Still she could think. She was with that girl and her dragon again, Lola she was. Though that time the dragon was sleeping rather deeply. She could not blend her mind with her. The other was well shielded and she couldn’t communicate. Even her mind was a prison that she couldn’t communicate with her dream selfs.

        There was that woman again, the Warrior Goddess, but they didn’t fight with her pupil as they usually did. She was more like a channel to another realm. Atiara could barely feel the presence of the others. They were too far in a way that she couldn’t comprehend.

        Oh! Now she was remembering… hope.

        After what had seemed hours of an exhausting fight with ghosts, the vividness of that dream had faded and she had found herself speaking with a young lad. What was his name? He was showing her different symbols, telling her that she had asked him in a dream once and that his friend Ewrick had now finished them. Yann had then showed her this set of symbols.

        She had felt a different kind of power along with the smile of a blue man. Had she asked for this? She couldn’t remember. She had said to Yann that they were beautiful though she hadn’t the slightest idea of what they were. He had laughed and just said that she’ll know soon enough. And there was that guy behind Yann, with his mischievous look and his nine-tailed fox

        All she could hope was that she would remember the set. It seemed important. Well important enough that she had forgotten her painful body consciousness for a few moments. The coldness of the stone under her bare feet was bringing her back to her gray reality. The storm was now closer but still not ready to release its power. She was waiting for it.

        #1746

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          yes, lots of triple numbers. I thought of you before Tracy, a bit later I checked the time on my phone, it was 5:55pm

          picked up my book to read just now, first line was:

          Terry closed his eyes and smiled serenely. “Do you know what he charges for one dose? Three hundred and thirty three dollars. He says it is his magic number”

          (they are talking about a dose of a new drug which allows people to have the experience of travelling to different realms)

          F:heart: (do you like my new signature ? I thought I could sign all my comments like this, Tracy came online just as I wrote that ahahahaha I bet she thinks it is :yahoo_sick: )

          #801

          The cold wind was blowing upon the marshes. The atmosphere was damp and dark with threatening gray clouds. A storm was approaching and Asiir was dreaming.

          Her dreams were so strong that they were triggering many emotions in her rider. Since their bonding seven years ago, their link had grown stronger and Lola wouldn’t think of shutting it down even in those uncomfortable moments. They were one.

          Lola was feeling a menace, some undefined threat coming with the storm, as if the storm was just the visible counterpart of what was preparing. In those moments, Lola couldn’t help but think of her family and her village… Her fist grasped tightly the grip of the sword she was holding.

          Everyone was killed when she was nine. Her dragon wasn’t fully developed at that time and couldn’t help her save her people. All Asiir could do was shield her from them as she was shielding herself, not even thinking of it.

          She sighed deeply, releasing the pressure of the storm and of the dreams. She’d learnt not to hold on the powerful emotional responses but to open herself as a channel of her dragon’s dreams. All she could do was let the energy flow through her. Was it Asiir creating the storm or the storm disturbing Asiir’s dreams? She wasn’t aware of the answer yet, but at times it had bothered her to think that her dragon could cause “bad things” to happen.

          A chilly breeze and a surge of electricity. She grinned impishly.
          It was the time of her lesson.

          You’re late master. she thought to the shadowy figure behind her. She was feeling something different that day in the presence. You’re not alone. I can feel a different energy with you today…

          The dragon growled in her agitated sleep.

          Your emotions are dragon drenched again, Lola. I know you consider it a proof of your connection with your beast, but it may be far more damaging than you think.

          Lola had felt a twinge at how Samira had called her friend, she was feeling her emotions rise dangerously to the point which she had learned she could not control herself. She had always wondered if Samira was seriously considering dragons as beasts or if she was teasing her, especially since she had let the connection develop in such a way.

          You’re going to have a new teacher…

          Lola’s heartbeat accelerated slightly, so slightly, but she could feel her mentor’s smile upon her interrogations. Was she leaving? She’d always dreaded such a moment. She felt the wry expression of Samira.

          I’m not going away… you need a training that I can’t give you. You need to learn how to ride properly over your bond and not get consumed by it, and Noraam can teach you that.

          A strange impression of connection with the new energy flew in her, making her feel quite uneasy. Such an intimacy was unusual with another human energy. Or was he human?

          A sudden surge of energy made her wince. She turned to her mentor and was surprised to only see Samira in her stout armor. She could feel the strength of the other energy but she couldn’t give him a form. She was feeling nudged gently from many directions at the same time and realized that she was afraid of loosing her bond with her friend. Wasn’t she trusting her bond? Another chill, and the rain started falling.

          You won’t really need all that Samira taught you during these last 4 years

          The inner voice was almost inaudible, but still she could feel it was not a voice and that the communication was going through another pathway. The vegetation of the marshes and few rocks were shifting to an unnatural yellow tint, and the faint glow around her teacher was growing in intensity. Actually, all the objects around her was beginning to glow, the limits of their shapes were collapsing.

          Lola was sill feeling the link with Asiir but it was thinning down in such an unfamiliar way.

          I’m going to help you remove the veils that Samira helped you put on your consciousness when you first met. But first you need to renew the link with yourself.

          She heard a vague sound of steel on the ground… had she lost her sword? She couldn’t feel her body. She couldn’t move as she was used to… but was it still something to move? The face of a man was forming in the energy patterns of the glowing clouds. Was he close or far away? Was he huge or of human size? Was she massive?

          A pounding sound in the distance of her inner ear… a familiar call but she was still so far.

          #1740

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            just remembered another one I meant to tell you. I bought a Brita water filter from the supermarket recently, it was quite spontaneous as I just noticed they had one sitting by itself on the shelf. I think this is a synch with one of Eric’s photos. Also the month counter at the top was set to 11 of the 11th or 11 11

            (this is comment 222 btw)

            At the aquarium the other day I was really drawn to these cool, luscious, yellow fish, partly because they seemed to be staring at me … :face-glasses: then i saw that they were named lemon (something, can’t remember the other word- maybe lemon) :fruit_lemon: fish and cost $57. (it was 57 dollars and something cents, but i can’t remember the cents, so that is a synch with not remembering the rest of the fish name :yahoo_oh_go_on: )
            Also this gives me an opportunity to use the new fish and lemon icons .
            :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish: :fish:

            #1739

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              Yes just reading the link on Full Metal Alchemist, I see many synchs. :yahoo_loser:

              One of the best things for me with the Traveler book was that I am enjoying it … and I have really struggled to find things I enjoy to read lately.

              #1738

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                MORE ON ANGELS

                I have been seeing a large number of “444’s”. I googled the number and found that one association with this number is of angels (there were other meanings as well, for me it is about choosing one which resonates with me, or creating a meaning). Well, i sort of liked that interpretation so now whenever i see 444 i think of “beings of light” and the support of the universe.

                Mr X’s friend Kelvin said to him one day recently that Finn would suit driving a “??????” car (some rare and exotic make of car). :yahoo_eyelashes:

                AHEM, okay to be technically accurate I made up “rare” and “exotic” … what i mean is I am not sure what car it was, (perhaps I will ask later and google it and hopefully I won’t be too offended), however that doesn’t mean much as I am one of those people who refer to cars by their colour rather than their make or model.

                At the movies yesterday my attention was caught by a car in the picture, the numberplate was 444. At that moment MrX whispered to me and told me that was the car Kelvin said I should drive. Well I still have no idea what the car was as I was busy noticing the numberplate, but I thought that was such a cool synch, sort of really reminding me to trust in the support of the Universe.

                Also on the way home, while driving home thinking about it i saw the the numberplate ANGILZ. :yahoo_angel:

                #1736

                In reply to: Synchronicity

                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  previous comment

                  catching up…

                  After we introduced the Italian Arch-Agent Gabriel to the story, there was a story in our local paper on crime writers with two authors featured.

                  One of these was Quintin Jardine. The section started with the words:

                  “If there are such things as angels” the big detective whispered “that’s what they look like.”

                  The detective who spoke them was an Italian.

                  The other author featured, was French crime writer Fred Vargas, (who is a woman, also a renowned archeologist). I really enjoyed reading what she had to say in the article regarding her philosophy on life and writing.

                  The articles were edited by Finlay McDonald.

                  :fleuron:

                  With some physical health problems which have reared their head the last little while I have also been aware of the number of “angels” in my life, in fact have sort of had a game where I call them angels to myself … the massage angel i met, the cafe angel etc etc etc. Mr X gave me the name of some people who do gardening, as the property was getting out of hand. They went well out of the way, and I was thinking how they were my gardening angels …. later they gave me their business card. Their business name is “Gardening Angels”

                  :fleuron:

                  The book I picked randomly on my trip to Auckland is The Traveller I had not heard of it before but apparently it is a best seller and part one of a trilogy :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                  There are aspects of it which sort of remind me of our story, travelers who travel between dimensions etc

                  John Twelve Hawks is the author, I think he is a recluse or something, nobody seems to know much about him.

                  website

                  :fleuron2:

                  I love T’s eggs falling from the sky synch .. it felt like abundance and magic :creating_magic:

                  #792

                  Elizabeth Tattler gazed at herself in the mirroor and sighed. Of course she was still stunningly bootiful, but since dear Eddie Foosher, her fourth husband, had decided to descend, she had lost the will to really care for herself. Day in and day out she had been focused on her writing, at first to ease the pain and loneliness, however increasingly she was finding real joy in her work. She looked lovingly towards the stoove where she was hardbooling a couple of mongoat oogs in preparation for some more Oogleton exploits.

                  She turned back to the mirroor. I really do have glorioos eyes she reflected, even if still a tad bloodshot. She remembered the one occasion she had met the philosopher Lemone, many years ago now. What was that little loomerick he had written for her?

                  Slowly it came back to her.

                  There was a Young Lady whose eyes,
                  Were unique as to coloor and size;
                  When she opened them wide,
                  Poople all turned aside,
                  And started away in surprise.

                  She smiled at the memory, how she would love to meet Lemone again! She remembered fondly how his air of kindly wisdom had far outshone his rather odd appearance and garish taste in cloothing.

                  #791
                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    You booger! Finnley swore out loud at the Phooto-copy machine. Booger that Mr Arak, forcing her to work with this antiquated equipment!

                    ( Technically, said Al, Finnley is only the cleaner, so why she is doing the photo-copying I really don’t know. )

                    Finnley was still wondering who this Al was who kept mysteriously, and a bit rudely, interjecting. He sounds a little pedantic, she thought, perhaps he is one of those compooter gooks who have hired an office in the building recently.

                    Mind you, she had to give him credit, he had a damn good poont, perhaps she should have a meeting with Mr Arak to discuss the terms of her coontract.

                    #1732

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      that’s really cool, I just thought it was a made up word “ooh” word, but that adds another dimension to the synch :yahoo_happy:

                      :yahoo_big_hug:

                      #790

                      It had been a moonth now that Elizabeth had got her first encounter with Pigoosus, her inner inspirer, on a dirty bench of the public park littered with pigeons droppings.

                      A whole moonth, and yet, it had been so full that she had barely noticed it passing. Even Finnley, the ever grunchy grumpy one, had felt ubiquitously absent (Elizabeth was quite fond of Lemone’s profoond quotes, and his consummate uooze of exquisitively bizarre words; so, “ubiquitously absent”, oxymoronic as it was, for all matter and purposes felt deliciously adequate to her present mood).
                      So, yes, even Finnley… who had felt recently so deeply absorbed by flocks of dust bunnies that went around the corners.

                      As for her, the grandioosa noovelist, she had used the inspiration of that day to take a break from that strange story she was writing, and which had accumulated so many loose ends that she’d grown yucky at the mere sight of a dish of spooghetti.
                      Instead, she had written a small unpretentious (as far as she could, that is) novelette, or children book as her publisher said. Of course, everything a little bit out of the ordinary was only good for children, and in fact, she couldn’t care less. She had tremendoose fun writing the Extra-vagrant Illustrated Tales of The Oogletoon Twins. Not only writing in fact, but also illustrating that intermission work (which was a first, as she had mostly the habit of doing coollages of various pictures teafed around, hence her fondness for Robert the robber magpie).

                      Notwithstanding, this was an interesting adventure for Elizabeth. Life was full of surprises, and she wouldn’t have thought that in becoming more “down to Oorth”, as her parents would have exhorted her to do, so to spook, she would have indeed be really, really closer to Oorth, but nonetheless, still in fairy land. Ahaha, that was putting her in the greatest of moods.
                      She smiled a broad smile to a fidgeting Finnley who was under the glowing neon light of the dark copy machine room, apparently in great conversation with some invisible being, as she went past the room, on her way to her office.

                      :fleuron2:

                      Checking on her compooter (her gorgeous iPear) she noticed an email from Barash… Another publisher that she was considering working with, when her current one had felt hesitant at publishing her illustrated book.
                      Decidedly, everything was going well for her these days.

                      #1431
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        Here, some real beers for all :beer: :beer: :beer: :beer:
                        A rose :big_rose: for the kiwis :kiwi:
                        And even for the eggleton twins :egg_wink: :egg_wink:
                        Mandrake :cat_black: seems to wonder :y_orly:

                        Yours truly, a.k.a. the buffoonish Yuki :bunny_head: :buffon:

                        #1949
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          Finn had a dream about the story:

                          Yurick had divided the individual comments/posts from the story and sorted out all the ones which had something to do with dragons. Finn was gathering them up to read them, the comments looked like soft white cushions. They were sort of squarish in appearance. As she read them in the order Yurick had sorted them, she realised they made more sense than she had previously thought. Apparently, Yurick told her, he had taken them to a publisher who said he might be interested in publishing them but they would need some re-working. Then Finn was at some building she did not recognise. She told a lady that she needed to care for the comments. Finn was putting them into a row of terracotta pots and as she did they were changing into plants, some of them were quite large already, others barely showed above the soil, some looked a bit weedy and limp. She thought they would probably need some watering.

                          #784
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            I think it’s you that gets confused with genders , Al, Becky said gently. Leo and Bea are both old dears, they’ve always been female. Of course, Becky mused, With so many probable realities, are there ever any ‘correct and right and true’ facts at all? Everything seems so much more fluid and changable these days, everything morphs along the way it will. It will what it will, I am what I am……

                            Al rolled his eyes at Becky. You may well morph along happily, Morph Becky Pooh, but some of us need to keep track.

                            Oh, it’s always on track, Al! How can anything ever really be off it? A wonderful glorious meandering labyrinth of a track, admittedly, but with so many splendid intersections, like spaghetti junctions….Come on, let’s go out and play in the sun! Let’s play Follow My Thread in the park.

                            Pffft, Al replied.

                            #776

                            Bea was drifting off to sleep on the patio, the gentle spring warm on her face. A stork glided past, and she noticed the first amethyst wisteria blossom against the blue sky. Dreamily, she heard a limerick forming in her mind:

                            There was an old crone called Wisteria
                            Who was prone to bouts of hysteria.
                            She fretted and flapped
                            Til her energy sapped,
                            And then she made friends with Deliria.

                            The crone called Deliria hailed from
                            The unsettled realms of the maelstrom;
                            But she learned how to float
                            With the help of a goat
                            And considered it was quite a brainstorm.

                            When Wisteria met with Deliria
                            She said “My! but you seem so familiar!
                            I admire your hat
                            So let’s have a chat
                            About goat floating maelstrom criteria”

                            #772

                            Smiling warmly, and stretching luxuriously and rather felinely, Illi woke up from her dream. The sun had been shining in her dream, as indeed it was on the beach of the sand dragons where she had fallen asleep all those many moons ago. She had many projects underway in her dream, lots of interesting ideas to be sorted out and she knew that many dear ones had been with her in the dream: hiding under tables, and in cupcoards….some in the fridge, some in the lavatory cistern; lending energy and support, albeit behind the scenes. That they were not visibly helping didn’t mean that they weren’t there, in a spirit of helpful cooperation, Illi knew, and she felt comforted.

                            When Illi had fallen asleep, she had been bored, hopelessly frustrated . The delights of the island paradise had palled rather quickly. Sure, she could create whatever she wanted, and she had had fun for awhile creating sand creatures and so on, but she had realized that she missed the surprises, the interactions with others, things not going according to plan… her objective plan, at any rate.

                            Illi was beginning to accept the fact that she was ‘dead’, at last, but she was starting to see that it wasn’t the ‘end’, but an opportunity for a new beginning.

                            Illi sat up and surveyed her surroundings. The sky was a deep azure blue, the sun was making twinkiling stars on the waters of the lagoon, a warm gentle breeze rustled the coconut palm leaves, and birds sang and twittered in the foliage. It was indeed idyllic, and Illi decided to simply enjoy it, while her new ideas formed into a reality.

                            ~~~

                            Illi was enjoying a new found freedom in her contentment, in not pushing her energy in frustration, and meandered happily around the island taking mental snapshots of a thousand delightful and marvellous wonders, appreciating even the smallest most insignificant things. Time lost all sense of meaning: there were deep velvet indigo skies full of sequins, and there were abstract multicoloured sunrises and sunsets; there were cottonwool clouds in cartoon shapes suspended on a canvas of blue. It mattered not the day or night; there was no longer a sense of time passing, just a glorious collage of appreciation and beauty.

                            #768

                            Bea! Come and look at this! Blimey O’RILEY, I ‘ave NEVER seen anything like this is me life!

                            What’s up, Leo? Bea rushed over, rather unsteadily, slopping some gin down her clothes from the ever present glass clutched in her hand. Bloody ‘ell, Leo, what’re you doing looking at them crystal skulls again?

                            It’s not the bloody skulls Bea, it’s all these rhino beetles ! There’s a blimmen HERD of them in this trunk! All over the skulls!

                            Yeuch! exclaimed Beatrice, who was not particularly fond of insects. Better get the fly spray, hang on, I’ll fetch it.

                            YOU CAN’T DO THAT! shreiked Leo. They’re symbolic!

                            Symbolic of bloody WHAT?

                            Well, I ‘int worked it out yet, ‘ave I? But you mark my words, they’re symbolic!

                            Bea rolled her eyes, remembering the ‘symbolic ants’ she’d been obliged to endure all over the kitchen. Leo was losing touch with reality, Bea reckoned.

                            Symbolic they may very well be, however, I am NOT having them in my bed, she said firmly. What are we going to do?

                            Google it? suggested Leonora.

                            Good idea. I’ll google it; now you make sure those bloody things stay in the trunk, eh. If any of them escape and head for the beds, call me!

                            #765
                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              After hours and hours of lessons in the middle of stinky pelts in their log cabin, it didn’t take Elvira long to realize taxidermy wasn’t really her forte either.

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