Search Results for 'tell'

I told you it is my feeling that in a sense these communications took place one afternoon while I was half dozing.

They could make no sense to me then. The use of unconscious knowledge could not then take place. I do not know the state of your wife’s consciousness, or of your own, at that time in my own past. In any case, your own conscious knowledge of such events apparently had to wait until certain intersections happened.

Awareness of these communications conceivably could have taken place at any time, but certain levels of comprehension had to touch all of our personalities before such communications jelled, or became strong enough to make sense in both of our worlds.

I do not believe that I was aware of these communications either when they first happened. I would have had no way to evaluate or understand them. I assume that the same is true on your parts. At the same time, in a manner of speaking, the communications are enriched as my knowledge of my world when I was alive blends with your present knowledge of your world in your time.

It is as if the three of us all wrote portions of a letter, the words fitting together meticulously, and yet forming a fine puzzle that had to work itself out as we each made our moves in our own realities. It is one thing to send a letter from one portion of the planet to another, as in your mail system — but it is something else when the three individuals involved are constantly changing their alignment, position, and probable activities.

It is like trying to send a letter to a certain address while the mailbox keeps appearing or disappearing, or changing its position entirely, for all three of us are a portion of that one communication, while the position of our consciousness constantly alters.

It is a wonder that such communications take place at all considering the changing coordinates that constantly apply. The communications could all have remained in the dream state on all of our parts, but we were all determined to bring them into some kind of actuality in the same way that the idea of a painting is changed into the physical painting itself.

“Godfrey, that’s got me thinking, you know. Seem to have a bit of an idea brewing, old bean,” Ann said with an enigmatic smile.

“What are you on about now, Ann?” he replied. “Why don’t you tell me what that book is you’re reading, you can’t quote books without mentioning the name of them, so you may as well tell me now.”

“I was wondering how to slide it in, Godfrey” she replied with a snort. “It’s The World View of Rembrandt, by Jane Roberts.”

The fact of the matter was that Ann had been intending to write about Cordella’s twin sister Flagella, but had been hopelessly side tracked when Godfrey had thrown that curve ball. Flagella had been wanting to slap herself rather badly and Ann was more than willing to oblige her by entering a scenario into the Play. The way things had panned out highlighted some interesting parallels with Yoland’s current state of affairs too. Obviously Flagella had chosen not to slap herself after all, although she appeared to have chosen to effect that in a somewhat convoluted manner. It was the unknown factors that were baffling Ann, the missing links in the convoluted manners; she felt painfully aware that she simply wasn’t seeing the whole picture.

Unsure of her footing, that’s what it was, at least that’s what Yoland had noticed. With the puppy always climbing over her feet or somewhere underfoot, she hadn’t been able to take a normal step in a fortnight. It was making her tense and tired, and jittery. Every step she took was halted, mid step, which made her feel permanently off balance.

Flagella had wanted to slap herself for being irritated, which was becoming immensely irritating in itself. Being irritated wasn’t fun at all, it was irritating! The most irritating thing of all was that she didn’t know why she’d started getting irritated in the first place.

Ann wanted to butt in and tell Flagella a thing or two about how dense she was being, but didn’t think there was much point. It wasn’t as if Flagella hadn’t already heard whatever Ann might have to tell her a thousand times or more, so it was doubtful that more words would be any help.

She doesn’t need any help, full stop, Ann reminded herself, and neither does Yoland.

“Uh Oh. I think Gustav’s got his communication centre jammed again. Bloody ‘ell” exclaimed Gloria. “Any idea how to fix it?”

“Well, I always fix things by giving them a good slap, Glor.” replied Sharon. “The telly, the keyboard, anything really, seems to do the trick, just shake him a bit and give him a good wack.”

Jeeze, the little brats have stopped me from getting me beauty sleep looking for the darn eggletons! Shar was seating outside sipping her cup of tea while conversing with her old friend Glor.

I was about to tell you the same Shar!… i need my beauty kip. Yer niece and nephew… Holly Molly…

Niece and nephew… what you on about? The nephewer the merrier if you ask me

As if we not got enough with them prescription drugs from the bathroom cabinet stopping us from sleeping!

Want to see them comin’ near our beds those!

Oh no, not our beds! Glor recoiled in horror.

Stupid drugs… Better for ‘em not come close when I’m ‘ere, or we’ll have to learn how to sleep standing!

Wouldn’t like to see your hump sleeping standing!

Not hump,… haunch, silly! Wouldn’t be so good anyway covered with blankets… Shar lost her trail of thought in remembrance of her past bedroom encounters.

A sudden crack in the nearby potting shed raised the ample bottom of the one named Glor in alarm.

In the news, a 7-year-old girl helps people on the radio, telling “whatever comes into [her] head and people like what [she] sa<strike>”…

Sounds familiar?

Yann was excited, he just had a mail from the cattery “The Laughing Cats” telling him they would send him pictures of the new litter. The little kittens had just opened their eyes and apparently they were very cute.

When they went to that cat exhibition with Ewrick in March, Yann thought it was just to meet a friend of his who was a cat breeder himself, and they actually met him. His cat was gorgeous and seemed so comfortable that you could have thought he had been drugged. Yann’s friend told them he was always like a big stuffed toy.

They chatted a bit and Ewrick and Yann wandered about to have a look at the other cats, and that’s when Yann saw the Abyssinian cats of the Carnelian cattery. The cats were solar and majestic, their cinnamon coat were stealing Yann’s heart. He knew he would get one… soon.

After a few weeks looking on the Internet at the different catteries, the different websites about this particular race, Yann decided to take his phone and make a call. He’d selected a few numbers and decided to just have another look on the net and found the Laughing Cat cattery, they got new kittens since a few days only and there was one of them whose coat was cinnamon. It seemed it was the perfect one, so Yann called that cattery first and the guy told him there were no call for this one color yet though he had many calls from Russian or other European breeders for the others…

Yann asked if they already had pictures but apparently the kittens had still their eyes closed and he was waiting a bit to take pictures… “they looks like rats you know”… no matter, he’d wait.

And they had opened their eyes now, he’d get pictures very soon now.

Harvey, I am lost. Completely and utterly lost. I can’t even remember my own name. I have vague recollections of giving away some piglets and little elephants, but …. her voice trailed off miserably.

Harvey, saddened to see his friend so upset, put down the four poster bed, and gave her a hug. Damn it, he couldn’t remember her name either. Didn’t she just tell him what it was recently … Lilac?

hmmm no that doesn’t sound right.

Well, it was a pretty name. He would call her Lilac.

Lilac, embarrassed by her display of emotion, laughed and rubbed away the tears from her eyes. Anyway what does it matter? Most of my friends have gone from here now. Apparently they have gone on to the “Ninth World”, and here I am still bungling around in number eight. What is worse, there are parts of this world I no longer seem to be able to access, including memories which are precious to me. Lilac reflected on what she had just said for a moment. Well they would be precious if I could remember what they are. I popped through the portal to Nine when I found my friends had gone, but I couldn’t make head nor tail of it.

She shuddered in horror at the recollection of the strange land she had found herself in. She remembered a woman, an artist she had called herself, with a crazed look on her face, trying to unravel a ball of string which seemed to go on endlessly, and all the while rambling in such a way that made no sense at all to Lilac.

Never mind, Lilac, I am still here, said Harvey kindly. I can’t make any sense of this place either. I don’t think it matters really. Here, I know what, hop on this four poster bed and I will teach you a few proxy dreaming skills. That will cheer you up!

“Hey, Asp” Phildendron was still chuckling at her sister Aspidistra’s reaction to the piglet news “Why don’t you make a deal with Lavender, tell her you’ll only accept the piglet if it comes with a years supply of that DMT stuff.”

“So I can share it will you, Phil?” Asp raised an eyebrow. “I don’t like haggling though, you know what I’m like. Looking a gift horse in the mouth and all that, no accidents and all the rest of it. I mean, I must be creating this piglet gift myself, and acceptance is key, is it not?”

“Acceptance doesn’t mean literally accepting gifts of piglets, silly!”

“Well what DOES it mean then?”

“It means accepting that everything is fine, whatever you choose ~ whether you say yes to the pig, or no to the pig, you’re supposed to accept that it’s the perfect choice.”

“Well how the devil is a person to know which is the right choice then?”

“Well that’s just it, it doesn’t matter which choice you make. Not only that, it’s not a case of just one choice, either.”

“So what you’re trying to tell me, which sounds like absolute nonsense, is that if I choose to accept the pig gift now, I would have to choose tomorrow that I accepted the pig gift today, otherwise I would be choosing…..” Asp’s voice trailed off as she lost her thread.

“Yes! And not just once tomorrow, but in every moment you would have to choose that you chose the pig gift ~ otherwise you’d be choosing that you didn’t accept the pig ~ and that would be a choice too.”

“Oh don’t be silly, Phil, with so many choices to make in each moment you wouldn’t ever be finished choosing before it was the next moment, then you’d have to start choosing again ~ You’d never get anything done!”

Oh! That’s right! that’s what I meant to tell you .. she exclaimed.

What? … oh and what IS your name, anyway? asked Harvey. We are such close friends, I sort of feel I should call you something.

Lavender ..funny, I thought you knew that .. well anyway, I forgot to mention, when they asked me what breed I would like for Essence I asked for a piglet. I asked for one with black and white stripes to take after Col. They are so cute aren’t they, and smart too! I hope Aspidistra likes pigs though …

Hey Al!
Al was surprised at the sudden surge of energy triggered by his friend Sam trying to establish contact. Apparently he was excited and he was sending his energy stronger than usual.

Al opened himself to the communication and welcomed his friend. Imagining himself in this neutral room in another layer of their shared reality like some kind of meeting place.

Have a seat
Thanks Al, I won’t stay long but I wanted to invite you, Tina and Becky to a party that I organize in The City. I already tried to contact them, but Tina doesn’t respond much lately and I thought that you could ask her to come along. Becky was busy but answered that she would come and that only had to give you the details as she would have forgotten them anyway.

Wow, wow, why don’t you just relax! I never saw you like that before…
Well, I have something to celebrate, I’ll tell you more when you’re here.

Sam vanished leaving a puzzled Al in the not so physical room.

The discussion had been going on for hours. Yann was feeling more relaxed than he had been during the afternoon, he was lying on the sofa, his legs on Yurick’s lap.
It was mostly Yurick who was speaking, Yann was listening and participating in some kind of soft energy exchange it was as if his point of view was being reflected by what Yurick was saying and all he needed was punctuate the conversation with ‘Yes’, ‘No’, ‘Ah’ and ‘mmmm’… well I exaggerate here but most of the time, Yann didn’t feel the need to expand much on any particular subject with words.

Feeling more comfortable and secure, Yann was letting feelings and emotions surface, old memories and associations were swirling around and none of them was particularly appealing for him to mention… except one.

“You know what, Yurick? When I was a kid there was that magician that I was afraid of… Romuald Borax… well he still frightens me.”

Saying that he felt a shiver crawling along his back. Yurick was staring at him, not knowing what to tell and Yann continued.

“He was always trying to demonstrate that people were fake”.

By People, Yann was meaning people involved in paranormal activities such as psychics, channelers, people who pretended to have telekinetic abilities… there was some animal reaction to him, Yann was feeling a deep repulsion and dislike of the man.

“Well, you know, it was also a good thing that he was skeptic…”

Yann wouldn’t listen to what Yurick was saying… that man was really willing to destroy them!!! how could Yurick not see it? These thoughts were like absolutes, thick concrete walls that couldn’t be overridden. Though Yann wouldn’t oppose anything, he was aware that his reaction to the man was triggered by some unclear associations. He couldn’t just evaluate them at the moment.

The day after, Yann didn’t pay attention when Dory mentionned a movie she had been watching called The Illusionist, his attention wasn’t on that aspect then… but another day after, he made the connection.

He realized that he had always been feeling as if he was in danger himself because he wanted to explore these areas. It was as if there was a pending threat upon his life because of his very interests and that if he made them known he would be made fun of and maybe worst, he could be locked up. The realization that Yann wasn’t directly threatened by that individual was enough to let him relax his energy about the man. He could see that he was safe in his exploration and that he had nothing to prove to the world or anybody in particular.

Yann even smiled at the thought that this illusionist wouldn’t realize that he was basing his protocol upon the biggest illusion.

Monica del Apio couldn’t understand why he kept telling her she had the wrong number. Frank Diddly-Squat had had the same phone number for years, but for the past two days, he ~ or someone using his phone ~ was refusing to admit to any knowledge of Frank.

Following Dory’s example, Yann had subscribe to the daily Universe’s messages. The first time she’d showed him the messages it appeared to be very fun and encouraging, but since he had subscribed, the messages he was receiving were very odd and more like what a spoiled child could tell you.
Yann had been fed up all day long by the last message in which the Universe had apparently told him that He, The Universe was all knowing and had everything but He won’t give a bit to Yann because!

Wow! That was a bit rude of Him, Yann thought… better not send anything… maybe he can tell Him next time to go fuck Himself.

All day long the irritation triggered by that simple note was gathering other tensions… it was like each time he was receiving a phone call, the caller’s energy would be scattered and distracting… and most irritating. Yann was feeling like other people had so many expectations for him and he couldn’t order his ideas or find a distraction.

All of the imagery would reflect him the same thing, unexpected answers from the Universe.

“Don’t wait for something particular, because each time it will present itself in a different way.”

At the end of the day, Yann was puzzled and annoyed… and the text messages he had been receiving on his mobile phone started again.

Apparently a girl was waiting for some call or message from a guy called “Did”, and she was persuaded that Yann’s number was that guy’s number. At first, Yann wouldn’t answer any of the messages and play the role of /dev/null/ endpoint of the Universe… After each message though, his irritation was growing accordingly…

He sent a message signed by The Universe and told the girl he was not who she thought he was and that she could as well try another random number to find her “Did”. But well, engrossed as she was in her passion, she answered him by a question : Who was he and why would he use “Did”‘s phone?

Hopefully Yurick was present… Yann as a good soft would have matched the energy of the Bitch but instead he sent he a last message, wishing her good luck in her quest. No need to add to her distress or the polarization in sending her a message like : Apparently your guy didn’t want to see you again if he’d given you this number…

Well, the “truth” still hadn’t made its way to her intellect though, she had sent him another message telling him she’d knew it from the beginning, that Yann was Did’s girlfriend and that she/he was trying to keep him/Did for her/him.

That’s when had some kind of striking revelation… The Universe was called Pedro!
And when he told that to Yurick, he chuckled and told Yann that the Universe was called Michael…
“They’re all angels lately, so it’s the name of an angel…”

Why not?