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  • #1274

    — “What do you think then? Aren’t you interested in going away a few days for a visit in that new City?” Al asked Tina
    — “Well, I don’t know”, she answered, her voice muffling down to a whisper. Or more precisely, not a whisper, but a soft transition into a telepathic mode. That non-verbal mode of communication was recently the most efficient way they’d found to exchange without need for lengthy explanations.

    That way, lots of discussions were held at once, and answers instantly given to a whole range of multiplexed questions.

    “You know,” Al continued after a moment “that guy we met last time, Sam’s friend…”
    “Yes, Armando Tina answered telepathically

    “Yeah. He’s got his flying car model perfected; apparently, they’re now starting to put flying tractors on the market too. I was thinking we could rent one to go to that country City. Sounds reasonable enough; we can fly to go there, and once arrived, even if it’s muddy, a tractor would come in handy.”

    #1269
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “Ok so now we have time travelling absinthe vampires, who suck the pee out of the time travelling absinthium salesmen?” Becky laughed. “Or would that be the reindeer pee salesmen? Otherwise known as Santa Clauses ahahah.” The idea was starting to sound strangely plausible. “Santa Claus is really a time travelling reindeer pee salesman from the gnome dimension ~ we were getting it so distorted because of our beliefs!”

      Al rolled his eyes and passed her a map of the Carpathian Mountains.

      #1257
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “Don’t bother me with that now, Godfrey! Can’t you see I’m swamped with ideas? I’ve got so many things to write I simply don’t know where to start. Which is why I’m starting right here and now, with the issue of the writer being overloaded with potential story lines.”

        Elizabeth ran her hands through her hair distractedly, and impatiently pushed the miniature giraffe off her lap.

        “Relax, Liz”. Singularly unruffled, Godfrey picked up the giraffe and stroked his neck. “Tranquilo, Lizzie, tranquilo!”

        “What? Oh, well done Godfrey, that’s taken care of one thing off my list then! One of my theme words had to be a foreign word.” Elizabeth started to relax. “And what finer word is there than tranquilo, eh, what a marvellous word.”

        “Indeed” replied Godfey “But is that the correct usage of the creative writing theme words? I mean, really, you could just write ‘Liz had a list of theme words and they were a foreign word, dual~duel, marmalade sunrise, appreciate and adore, summer rain, beyond the horizon’ and leave it at that, couldn’t you?”

        Godfrey, you are clever!” Elizabeth congratulated herself. “But what about all the other ideas?”

        “Well, why not start by making a list? Jot down a few clues. Or just start writing, and see what happens. I’ll put the kettle on while you make a start, fancy a cuppa?”

        “Oooh yes please! Finnley bought some new teabags this week, quite spicy they are as well.”

        Godfrey sniggered as he disappeared into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “Have you got any of those gingerbread men left?”

        #1235
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          Not willing to play another tug of war with Elizabeth, whose mind was obviously not as soond as one might expect of an authoor of her statoore, Godfrey didn’t even mention to her that she misquoted him repeatedly by making him barf mindlessly unbearable amoonts of poonuts while in trooth, it was cashoo nuts he was craving for.

          That being said, he couldn’t let her last remark go without notice, and pointed her to a newspooper article she’d been cutting recently off an interview with one of her former editors, Darool Barash.

          “See, Elizabeth dear,” he said after taking a sip of a hot fragrant lootus tea “ Why would you want to impose your desired change everywhere ‘roond you. Thawing the ice caps? And what else? Did you think of the pengooins? All the beautiful harmoony you fail to consider… Why forcibly change the ootside when you can choose from an infinite of already created pootentials. Well, at least, that’s what Barash says…”

          He paused, her looks betraying that she was completely lost.

          “Frankly, Liz, you’re starting to worry me. All this loony talk… It’s so oother-dimensional. You say it’s too complex, but the way you moove all those extroovagant letters is baffling. And this non-existent “Al” you’re talking aboot… Let me finish please… I know you feel remoorse for leaving old Arak just because he wouldn’t let you have the tiny giraffes —not even mentioning that ghost-writer of yours, Finnley? That’s the name, isn’t it?… I sure want to believe your shift in vowellness excoose, but that’s not enoogh…”

          “Will you just stop talking roobbish Godfrey…”
          “Now, serioosly, your delirioos inspiration break-oot has got to be channeled, if we want to make your proper come-back
          “But everything’s fine, I’m just very kewl.”
          “You see! Like I said!”
          “What?”
          “You did it again!”
          Yeeps? I did it again?
          “Just now! You said ‘very kewl’, instead of ‘too cool’! That’s unnoorvingly vexatioos!”

          “KEWL! KEWL! KEWL!” :magpie: screeched Robert X the pet magpie from the other room.

          #1234

          Gloria had volunteered to go fetch whatever thing she could find to feed the measly fire burning in a ice crevice. They were starting to get a bit hungry and the watermelbomb once exploded weren’t giving off much to feed on. She was starting to hallucinate delicious roasted penguins on a fire, with a slice of bread and whale lard, and a smoking cup of algae tisane…

          “Golly, this is gettin’ sick! The little buggers are so cute…” she mused, fondly overlooking the flock of penguins on the shore, some diving and catching fish, others nursing, some gliding lazily on the glittering ice.

          “Now look at this!” she said “SHA! SHA! Com’ere!”

          :fleuron:

          “What the ‘eck!” Akita couldn’t believe its ears.
          “Weeehoo! We’re goin’ome, and on a cruise mind ye!” Mavis was beaming.
          “On a frigging iceberg! You can’t be serious!”
          “Oh don’t be such a party pooper Akitooh, it’s perfect!” Sharon said
          Not even trying to be reassuring, Mavis echoed “Yes! Remember BBC talkin’ about it years ago; just another mad project they said. But I loved that! Mad projects ye know… never thought I would see that in my lifetime. Guess the project has been funded after all. Drifting bagged icebergs to Africa through the Indian Ocean! Now that’s a plan!”
          “And look! this one has got propellers, and a little platform,… and a satellite dish!” Sharon was inspecting the behemothic plastic-bagged iceberg on rockets which was bobbing up and down, still anchored to the nearby whale-watching base.
          “Hope it’s not teleguided by aliens though…” Gloria said a bit wearily.

          “Well, I suppose it’s our best option for now” Akita was trying to be appreciative of the ladies efforts. “And how do we hop on that thing?”

          “Oh, that’s easy! Bring the ropes girls!”

          #1225
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Becky was relieved that Al hadn’t taken the introduction of the new characters too badly. He and Sam seemed to dash off again rather quickly though. Becky was starting to feel a bit lonely, what with Tina away for so long as well as Al and Sam being so wrapped up with the kitchen tiling that they hardly had time to stop for a chat anymore. Gawd only knows how many tiles it takes to tile a kitchen, Becky thought, even a kitchen in the city.

            #1215

            “Well, Sanso” said Zhaana a trifle breathlessly, her flushed with wonder. “ The Elsepace Arrangement was certainly an eye opener, if eye opener is the right word. So what next?”

            Sanso laughed uproariously. “What next? What next, AHAAAHAA HA HA! What next indeed!”

            “What’s so funny?” asked the little girl, her face starting to crumple.

            “Oh don’t do the old crumple face, Zhaana, I’m laughing at myself as much as anything” Sanso replied, giving her a quick hug. He couldn’t bear the sight of crumple faced children.

            “Well, I still don’t understand why you’re laughing” she replied with a pout.

            “It’s actually a very good question, and one I sometimes find I ask myself. Well, I used to ask myself “what next” all the time, as if it was somehow important to know where I was going next, to have a destination or a plan.”

            “But if you don’t have a destination, how do you know where to go next?” Zhaana was confused.

            Sanso smiled. “It doesn’t matter where you go next, little one, because you’re always at the centre of everything. You can go in any direction you want and you’ll always be at the centre of everything.”

            “Well if that’s the case, why not just stay right where I am, then?”

            “Do you want to do that? Stay right where you are?”

            “No! I …er….no! of course not!”

            “Why not?” Sanso asked with a gentle smile.

            “Well, if I stay right here, and don’t go in any direction, everything will always be the same” she replied, frowning.

            “And what would be wrong with that?”

            Zhaana had to think about this. “Well, it wouldn’t be wrong I guess, but it would be boring. There wouldn’t be any surprises…..”

            “Ah so you like surprises, then!” Sanso was grinning.

            “Yes, I love surprises!”

            “Well then why do you want to plan where you’re going next?”

            Zhaana opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. Sanso was confusing her, and she didn’t know what to say.

            “OK then, Sanso, you are always wandering around, how do you decide where to go next?” asked Zhaana, rather cleverly responding to the difficult question with a question of her own.

            “I get an impulse, or I see a sign, and I follow it.”

            “What do you mean, a sign?” Zhaana understood about impulses: after all, she had followed her impulse to leave horrid old Uncle Grishenka and follow Sanso into the cave. She wasn’t sure about signs, though.

            “I’m not sure I can describe a sign, really. They just appear, and so I notice them.”

            “Well, after you notice them, then what?”

            “Well” said Sanso “Then you interpret the sign however you want to, and then you act on it.”

            “You can interpret the sign however you want?” asked Zhaana with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

            “Yup” replied Sanso. “That’s about the size of it, Sweetpea.”

            ~~~

            “Oh Godfrey, I’ve been trying to get the theme word into this entry and I’m just not getting any closer.” Elizabeth sighed, and pushed her keyboard away. Quickly she pulled the keyboard back so that she could write what Godfrey replied.

            “Have some more peanuts, Liz” he replied with a laugh.

            Elizabeth pushed the keyboard away again and passed Godfrey the peanuts .

            A few moments later Elizabeth pulled the keyboard back and wrote:

            ~~~

            Sanso, a word just popped into my head, do you think it might be a sign?” Zhaana asked excitedly. “It just popped in from nowhere!”

            “Sure it’ll be a clue, and what was the word?” he replied, trying unsuccessfully to suppress a chuckle. He had heard the word too, and knew exactly where it was coming from, but he wasn’t going to spoil the moment for his little friend.

            “Moonbeams!” she announced proudly. “I heard the word moonbeams !”

            #1213
            EricEric
            Keymaster

              Georges and Salome’s journal

              From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 4)

              Legends of the past can tell you a lot more on the present than what sometimes is actually revealed by present events. I discovered the truth of this statement when we arrived with Cil at the capital of Tùrmk. As Cil was discussing with officials of the Turmaki Gatherings, I was offered to go to their House of Remembrance. It was, I gathered, a sort of physical repository of the knowledge of the Turmaki that would allow me to bridge the gap of my abysmal ignorance of their history.

              I was only barely starting to understand the odds of the physical configurations of space in this dimension, and I was nonetheless more than eager to add history to my previous geography lessons.
              Turmaki are living in a sort of interesting land forming a sort of circle at the centre of which lies the most beautiful sea I have ever seen, with a very subtle and vivid shade of deep indigo blue. Most of Turmakis’ activity was directed inward of the circle, and the outer sea wasn’t a matter of interest to them. Later at the House of Remembrance, I learned that there had been an agreement in the past with the other sentient races to not mingle, so even if there was not physical barrier, all they focused their attention upon was their land, and theirs only.
              Their Capital City, Tùrmk, may probably be seen as a very rudimentary city by all Earth-biased accounts. However, at that time, I had not really seen much of the Earth to be blasée anyway, so I was quite receptive to the beauty of its simplicity. It was located at the foremost point of an inner peninsula known as the Nirgual’s Head, facing twelve beautiful islands on which sacred temples had been erected.

              My fascination for the beauty of these islands led me to discover more about their significance. In the House of Remembrance, a similar structure of twelve doors led me to learn that the twelve families held significance even here and throughout Alienor as well. Representatives of the families were chosen among the Guardians, as I remembered Georges had discovered and interestingly some of them had had quite an influence upon the history of the various people of Alienor. I couldn’t really trace it back to tangible proofs, but as I said, some legends are quite telling — thus corroborating Cil’s earlier statements.

              I have not much time left to start telling them now, but I will probably tell more about the Legends of the Six ‘Fudjàhs’ —or Power Objects.

              (Part 3)

              #1211

              It felt like she’d been projecting for hours —in and out of her body, often brought back by the incomfort of the warm and moistly room, where the rheumatic fan was blowing a measly wind full of humidity.

              The rabbit she’d seen a few hours ago was ‘wanishing’, like a gentle feeling of pure joyful happiness holding by a thread that you try to reminisce before lapsing back into the old patterns of self-doubts.

              She didn’t have to strain herself so much, she suddenly realized; it never worked well when she tried to push it. She wanted the clarity of the projection to be deeply anchored within herself, and not some stroboscopic view of her grim reality sandwiched in glimpses of blissful clear lightness.

              So, she decided to wait for the moment to be back. Time didn’t really matter once you projected, but here in this reality time still mattered, and you had to find the proper exit-way. Not all moment seemed to work well.
              There were old books in this room, most of them, her son probably did pile up without even reading them. Some of them evoked the the birth pangs of the new era they were still building, which had started about 30 years ago. Now, in 2038 she was old, but back then she was in her mid-life and fully aware of the good aspects and not so good aspects of this life. She had yearned for the changes, and it had come; she had outlived most of them, and the books probably wouldn’t tell her much that she had not actually lived. Probably her son was keeping them because of his beliefs on wasting his investments.
              She, for one, couldn’t care less about them.

              She picked a little book, with a few words and mostly drawings and symbols on it, and she smiled. She’d seen some of these symbols in her dreams, she related to them; she didn’t need the words explaining them; words were just the authors’ translations, and she trusted her own before them. But the book was making her feel good.

              She leaned back in her bed, maneuvering the rolling bed to be in front of the last beams of light of the day.
              She could see the full moon rise, and she felt peaceful.

              :fleuron:

              When she noticed she was in front of the cave, she wondered how long she’d been out of her body without knowing.
              She could see the moon higher in the sky than when she was in her room, and she could feel an energy of excitement.

              Anita was finally coming out of this underground trip with her parents. Seeing the little girl in the flesh would be such a revelation for her, she was thrilled to the point of even forgetting her doubts about the possibility that she was really becoming insane.
              She didn’t know why or how, but she would convince her son to offer them some shelter, so that they could settle before getting home. She had so much to learn from the little one she could feel. She was really wise beyond her age…

              Voices where starting to fill the silent space:

              Anu! It’s been hours now we’ve been in these damp corridors, are you sure you know the way?”
              “Yes Mum, we’re almost there…”
              “Here, I can see the light Lily!”
              “Yes, I can see it too Aaron!”
              “Wow, the moon is full, it’s so lovely”

              After the couple had emerged, Balbina could see Anu wink at her. She was seeing her! Now, she only need show her the way to the house!

              #1186

              Arona was fretting.

              “Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

              Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

              No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

              They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

              At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

              Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

              Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

              N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

              As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

              :fleuron:

              Footsteps on the beach.
              A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

              He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

              A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

              The man greets the new-comer with deference
              “Master Sinadron
              Jarvis, my good friend.”

              They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

              “So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
              “Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
              “Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

              Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

              “Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
              “The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
              “Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
              “I am sorry Master.”
              “Continue”
              “There is a growing dissent that…”
              “And from who that shall come?”
              “Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
              “Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
              He continued “But I shall help you, once again
              “Master, you are too generous…”
              “Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
              “Master…”
              “They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

              And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

              #1174

              Balbina had had a quite difficult week. Feeling cold, having trouble to find sleep, not even speaking of being unable to do the kind of out-of-body travel she had managed to do last time.
              She was almost starting to doubt she could redo it again.

              Of course, the relocation at her son’s cottage was a source of much change in her habits, and although he wasn’t at home most of time, she wasn’t really feeling like she was ‘at home’. Strangest thing really, as for the time she was at the hospice she wasn’t feeling as much an alien as in this cottage. At least, at the hospice, she was in a sort of neutral environment, some place where she wasn’t undesirable (would it be asking for too much to actually be desirable at her age?). Here, the environment wasn’t neutral at all; everywhere everything reminded her of her son: his books, the posters, even the dust on the coffee table was almost looking as though it was his own.

              So she had to adjust. Contort her energy to fit —to crumple herself!— into this place, as it would be likely she would spend quite some time here. She wasn’t asking for much really, as she wasn’t able to move from the bed he’d had installed in the spare room. Ghastly room, with a creepy wallpaper from a has-been era of the past days, year 2000 or close she’d guess, gaudy as it was… oriented to the south, with hardly bearable heat during the day. She would have loved to see the coast on the north, but instead, the only window was showing her the shade of the trees, and that ominous alligator-green mountain just behind.

              If she couldn’t project in her dreams as she managed to do before, she would soon either die of boredom or of heat. She wasn’t too sure which one would be the most painless and efficient.

              She pushed the button to have her bed roll a little closer to the window; once straightened up a bit, she was able to see the passageway to the mountain. She couldn’t explain why she didn’t like this mountain; it was quite beautiful; perhaps she feared to be lost and abandoned. All the more since she could feel so much presence in this environment. Unseen presence, and trickster ones too.

              She was tired, and yawned so much her tense jaw’s muscles ached.

              On the emerald path to the forest, a moving teal wisp of light caught her attention. Funny plays of light at this hour of the day. But the wisp was persistent, and it started to move towards her.

              “Good day Balbina!”

              The crazy rabbit was back again. And… she was sleeping? In or out?

              “In or out, smell my foot, it’s your choice, and matters not
              but be quick, and come forth, for Anita and her folks this wicked way come!”

              “The tune is set, the tunnel is close
              Of playfulness you’ll need a hefty dose”

              #1172

              After he sent his reply to Yann, Yurick took a deep breathe in appreciation of all that had been done the last past days.

              However tedious, all in all, it had allowed him to stay away from other people’s trauma, and stay focused on his own issues. Now, the feeling of the energy at hand was starting to become lighter. Like a thin ray of light poking through a thick layer of rainy clouds, announcing that the silver lining was more than just a consolation. It was announcing the sun to come.

              He took the book of stories that had been unburied (like his pleasure to write) from the bottom of the sofa’s cushions when they’d received hosts last week-end, and looked with amusement at the opening note about the “random quotes”.

              A strong sense of an inkling started to dawn at him.
              Thanks to the random quotes —or more appropriately said, to convenient synchronicities— “stuff” was never lost or buried in the insides of that ever-growing story, which was eating with gluttony at the edges of its expansion. Things were popping up here and there, reminding of old loose threads, or pertinent inclusions or links to be made.

              But there was more. He, for a long time, had thought that imagination was expanding things to make physical reality look smaller in proportion than it was. Like when they’d looked at Dory’s pictures, and everything looked so big on them. Even the mere thought of nine dogs was huge. But when they’d met her, and Dan, and the dogs, it was all so much smaller. Even seeing Dory manage her dogs made having nine dogs seem manageable.
              But the reverse was true: physical reality had its way of dwarfing imagination. Not so much making it smaller, but compacting it, making it fit in an unbelievably condensed and small space.

              Take that book. Thousands of words, billions of probabilities, endless threads and hundreds of characters, all packaged in a small stack of inked paper. The trick was that when you look at it that way, when you got that small stack of paper in your hands, it all seems so manageable; one starts to get accustomed to it, then fails to see the newness in it each time it’s opened to tell a story.

              Imagination is the true gauge of the vastness of the universe. It’s so easy to forget…

              #1169

              Antarctic Ocean, International subwaters

              Good job my dear ones! “ the voice of the Baron was echoing strangely inside the metallic hull of the submarine.

              In front of the screen, Pavel, Claude and Jarvis were sipping vodka martinis in celebration of their new crystal skull acquisition.

              “It’s got a really extraordinary quality.” Jarvis answered after a moment of silence “I’ve been starting to study the skull and it’s taking some sort of aquamarine colour with the pressure variations, it’s impressive. And it seems we’re attracting an unusual amount of cetaceans in our trail too…”

              “Fascinating! I can’t wait for you to bring it to me”

              “Baron?”

              “What?”

              “What do we do with your old friend?”

              Phoebe?”

              “Yes. We made sure she was properly treated, as per your orders, and she’s got access to the bare minimum so that she doesn’t play any trick on us.”

              “Good. Well, I suppose you can release her on any friendly coast of your liking. She is greatly able to go on from there, though she will probably not like having been outwitted in stealing abilities… Whatever. Do as I said, and don’t get too mollified by her apparent frailty, she’s tougher than she seems.”

              “Okay. See you at the meeting point then.”

              #1166

              Elizabeth’s strange new way of spoocking Ooglish was starting to become oorie.

              That is, until she found a recoonforting quote from Lemone, as usual:

              “You all notice a change in vowellness of your Ooniverse. Even those who are unaware notice a changing shift in vowellness. This is a new emergence into a wonderful vowellness that you have all agreed and decided to accomplish.”

              #2030

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                Some selected bits from one tag cumulo-cloud:

                — “Matter (is) dimensional energies realized”
                — “Expect Hector (to) surface, Rafaela!”
                — “Leonora gets (to) keep saying ‘play attention!’”
                — “Close rain, friend magic, hope water seeing”
                — “Far within thinking, Arona sort days, (her) hold gives human comments great meaning”
                — “Soon blue seconds, call straight (at the) door, met surely physical; notice move (of) essence (in) fat huge dreams”
                — “Universe appear (in) book story”
                — “Malvina line although familiar answered busy funny heading”
                — “Tina looked love taking lots question indeed”
                — “Word usually working (in) short shifting pooh adventure”
                — “Seems Armelle starting soft reason; strange perhaps (in the) middle (of) rolling help (one may) spot dragons’ truth past spider times”
                — “‘Tell inside reality’: three words step (to) creating”
                — “Becky, allow yourself finding single beautiful playing light, dear”
                — “Cloud impulse shall house explain surprised black connection”
                — “Cool trust(ed) friends, portal plane”
                — “Aliens coincidence next talking”
                — “Walking arms seem flight silence; stone creature sound already entered field (of) aware(ness); scene trip apparently given reading”
                — “Beyond rolled Theresa, lately cave telling unusual morning”
                — “Wortex large, merely Glo

                #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?”

                #1145

                “Listen to this, BeaLeonora said.

                Bea looked up from her book “What’s that then Leo? I’m just getting to the juicy part where T’eggy gets….”

                “Listen to this” Leo interrupted, and read from the book she was reading, “As a writer I feel free to do anything I please, investigating anything, saying anything…..as a writer I feel free to be psychic as a bird, do what I please and use my abilities psychically quite freely. When I think of me as a psychic I get hung up because I seem to be in the company of so many nuts. Writers may be as nuts as anyone else but it’s a nuttiness that doesn’t bug me ~ there’s no dogma attached…..”

                “What on earth are you reading, Leo?”

                “The memoirs of Jane Roberts” replied Leonora. “What a coincidence this is! I was just starting to think about writing some fiction, you know? Because when you write fiction nobody really questions what you write, it’s easier, somehow.”

                “Well if it’s fiction you’re after, I can recommend T’Eggy Gets A Good Rogering, it’s brilliant.” replied Bea helpfully.

                “Bloody hell, Bea!” said Leonora in exasperation. “I want to write tasteful enlightening fiction, wonderful stories with a moral and a point and a lesson ~ I don’t want to read the trash you read!”

                “Suit yourself, you judgmental cow” replied Bea huffily. “And anyway, you haven’t even read it, so how would you know?”

                #1142

                “I had an absolutely brilliant revelation last night” Bea was saying “about The Door. Buggered if I can remember what it was, though.”

                “Well fat lot of use that is then, Bea” replied Leonora. “Any snapshots? Can you remember anything at all?”

                “Well, there was a big pale green patch that floated down, then there was the floating part, oh and all the coloured light flashes…the French girl, the old fashioned scene…..and that weird change of focus, sort of off centre and a bit out of body, with the guy behind my right shoulder shouting HEY every time my focus started drifting back to normal. Oh, and the spiraling part, that was cool too!” Bea was starting to drift off into another world just thinking about it.

                “Yes, well, now we know all about The Door” said Leonora sarcastically. “Very helpful, Bea, well done.”

                “That’s it!” shouted Bea, leaning forward in excitement. “It’s about blocking energy!”

                Leonora rolled her eyes.

                “Holding tightly to energy, that’s what the closed door is. I can have an open door, and still be free to create who walks through it. We don’t lock the door here, do we, but we don’t get any intruders.”

                “Maybe that’s because we’ve got nine dogs” said Leo. “And anyway, define intruder, in a ‘you create your own reality’ context. What’s the difference between an intruder, and a wonderful surprise?”

                Bea was stumped for a moment. “That’s a good question, Leo, we’ll come back to that in a bit, but let me finish telling you this before I forget again.
                I used to mentally open a big double door every time I did a meditation or went to sleep” Bea continued “and I havent opened that door in months. Well, sometimes it’s open, obviously, but I dont seem to throw the doors open wide anymore, you know, to other energies objectively, if you see what I mean.”

                Bea was starting to ramble. “I used to invite any Tom, Dick and Harry to my meditations as long as they weren’t aliens.”

                “What about the dogs in raincoats dimension?” asked Leo “What were they if they weren’t aliens?”

                “Oh, they were alright, I liked them. Oh you know what I’m like about that other dimensional stuff, don’t get me started on that now. I think occasionally things happen and I get rattled, and shut the door for a bit.”

                “Right, so let see if I’ve got this straight” said Leonora “There’s more than one layer to this Door thing because what you’ve just told me is what’s going on in your reality. The question is, what’s going on in mine?”

                “Buggered if I know, LeoBea replied. “Fancy a cuppa?”

                #2028

                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  Indeed Jib, as usual, as usual:

                  Follow THE call OF THE WILDE,
                  THAT WHICH especially ASK YOU TO hold STILL AT home.
                  YOU KNOW, IT DOESN’T TAKE lots OF walking
                  TO let YOUR arms HAVE SOME EXERCISING:
                  SOME WOULD SAYperhaps”;
                  BUT NO NEED TO SAY “I knew THAT!”

                  LET’S EXPLORE A stone idea:
                  OF dragons starting watermelons story, flying AROUND
                  AND smiling, DIVING IN THE flove

                  #1128

                  When Balbina woke up from that which had been her longest and strangest projection out of her body ever, all the memories of this fantastic adventure were oddly still fresh and crystal clear in her mind.

                  She doubted that it may have been as real as she has perceived it to be; but the funny rabbit, before they all entered the long dark tunnel, had winked at her and told her there would be signs for her.

                  Outside the window, the sunlight was starting to show on the Cordillera de la Costa, the nearby mountains.
                  She was feeling strangely rejuvenated by this unexpected night spent in far-away travels, and it was almost as if her whole body was feeling better than it ever was.
                  But of course, it was more of the same. Fabella, the nurse would soon enter and great her with a…

                  “Did Madam sleep well?”
                  “Quite, yes”… Her voice was quivering. Hardly the youthful voice she had during her projections out of the body.

                  So, there she was again, in that old people house, and no way out of this mis…

                  “What?!” she made the nurse busy cleaning her instruments repeat —to which she was far too pleased to comply.
                  “Yes, Madam, your son phoned this morning and told he would come for you…”

                  Her son? That was most unexpected.

                  What did the rabbit said already? Help would come from the most unexpected corners… Well, she had almost forgotten that this corner still existed!

                  “Did he say something else?”
                  “Oh, I’m not really allowed to tell, M’am…”
                  “But of course, you can’t really resist (little goose)” simpered the old wincing lady in a whisper to herself.
                  Fabella was indeed continuing, unstoppable “… but he seems to consider it’s too expensive to have you here, and would love to have you home with him”

                  Well, of course, you can’t really expect him to be so generous for no reason Balbina was thinking… But anything would probably be better than this old fools’ home. Even her son’s home.

                  Besides, it was located outside Caracas, near the mountains… And if the funny rabbit’s directions were correct, it was very, very close from where her hosts (provided they existed of course) were to re-emerge.

                  She’d never imagined that falling into the abyss of sweet madness would be so exciting.

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