-
Search Results
-
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
The portal has opened, we must hurry said Araili
Araili had felt something more, that he didn’t want to share yet with Akita and his spirit dog Kay. He had felt that something, or someone was trying to make its way from the wortex. However, the whole area was tightly held in a sort of quarantine by the giant spiders. Their genetic ancestral memory was aware of previous huge bleedthroughs like this one, and they had what humans would call “prophecies” amongst their kin, of such occurrences being heralds of tremendous upheavals.
Araili, who was extending far beyond this guise of a lynx that he had taken now, smiled when he thought of how some of his earthly medieval focuses would have been similarly frightened by natural events like eclipses.It did not take long to them to find Anita’s parents. They were right at the spot that the big arachnid had just left, wrapped in silky spider bandages with little skin left to breathe.
— They seem alive. checked Akita. Heavily sedated, but alive… Now, we’ll have to get them out of here quick.
— I think I have an idea smiled Araili.
Claude had finally came out of what he thought was just a strange tree, but then, his preternatural senses where telling him something was wrong. This place looked different. No, this place felt different.
And smelt different too.There were soft sounds, crawlings he could hear, very near his place. They were coming from him, but he would fight.
He jumped on a tree, and in a few vigorous movements, was perched on top of it.
He almost gapped when he saw the black circle of huge spiderly creatures around his tree.They were staying at a distance from the wortex. But for how long… He couldn’t wait for his death.
From the top of the tree, Claude jumped unscathed. Taking a look around, he found exactly what he needed.
Breaking a few sharp bamboos poles, he started his move to the black circle in a prodigious and accelerated run. From atop a nearby tree, Armelle was considering the whole scene. The wortex would probably last a few hours, perhaps a bit more. Anita, Rafaela and Yuki were about to be here soon, she had warned them of the spider circle, so that they would hide until she has found them a way to get through.
She had not expected someone to come out of it. That may be her way…
Phurt was coming closer and closer now. She could feel the surge of power, and the trepidation raising all the hair on her legs. She couldn’t possibly confront all of the sisters. Not yet.
She had to find a way to get past.As if Arachneiax, Goddess of her kind had heard and answered her plea, a dying cry, confusion, and call for help came to her senses from a border of their circle. A perfect diversion…
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Becky arrived at the cafe twenty minutes late, looking breathless and disheveled. Scanning the room with a wild eye, she spotted Tina engrossed in a magazine in a booth in the far corner. Flopping down on the leatherette seat, Becky ran her hands through her hair and said Holy Moly, Tina, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.
BREATHE, replied Tina, in a deeply resonant voice, a trifly mischeivously, Becky thought. Breathe into YOU…..
Oh bugger off Tina, Becky said affectionately. Thanks for coming at such short notice.
Well, out with it then, Becks, what’s the panic this time? What fine pickle have you got yourself into now?
Becky glanced surreptiously over her shoulder, and then leaning over the table whispered to Tina, Promise you won’t tell anyone? Not even Sam and Al?
Tina frowned. Not even Sam and Al?
Seeing Becky’s crumpled face, Tina quickly agreed, saying, Oh alright then, but what’s the big secret? Not that there ARE any secrets….
Yes there bloody well ARE secrets Tina, and this is one of them! Promise not to tell ANYONE!
Alright, alright! Calm down and spit it out, for Gawds sake! Tina said.
Remember when I was in the park? In that tarty nun outfit? Becky continued, in a loud whisper.
How could I forget?
Well, something happened! In the bushes, with this guy, a guy from the future, a time traveller.
Tina raised one eyebrow in disbelief.
It’s no good looking at me like that Tina, I’m telling you it happened. And what’s more, I’m pregnant, and he’s the father.
Tina’s mouth fell open in surprise, and then she said, You TART! You haven’t been married a week! You haven’t even been on your blimmen honeymoon yet!
Well, actually, replied Becky huffily, Don’t you think it’s kind of cool?
What happened then, Becky, do tell! Tina was intrigued.
And Becky proceeded to tell Tina all about it, first entreating her again not to tell anyone.
In reply to: Synchronicity
In reply to: Synchronicity
Synching with T’s post about Rosie, my massage angel (well her name is Sarah really) started telling me about her puppy called Rosie yesterday, (11th April) Just noticed this was comment 257.
Cafe with friends a short while ago – was given table number 12 again!
dreamt about a sort of portal thing last night – i would say it was a muddled mixture of a church and a cave and even a tree, it was hard to know what it was, but the person I was with was dressed in church robes, and we went up high into it till we nearly got to the top. This sort of syncs a bit with Eric’s comment I thought.
55 – guests invoice 255, and their black porsche convertible
number plate 355.only yellow synch i can think of, as I was walking across the park with my friends, the baby started pointing and making noises at a bright yellow plastic bag lying in the grass … apparently (and here I am going off what her mother said as I have no idea) she wanted us to pick it up and put it in the bin. ahahahahahha yeah bugger the freakin yellow !
The other day i spent some time googling for a particular model of coffee maker (which appears to be out of stock) … some guests had broken it and wanted to replace it. It was Breville ECM2. Then the next day as I was randomly reading things I linked onto an EFT site. It was talking about Energy and mass (and stuff) and Einstein and E=MC2 (don’t know how to do a little 2). Later I mentioned it to Eric and he found an Einstein synch. Just now I went over to a news site to look for a goat story for T, and the first thing on the page was an advertsing banner for Mariah Carey’s new album, E=MC² . Absolutely no idea of any significance to this synch however it felt sort of illuminated so I am sharing it. Now I will go and look for the goat story again.
In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
Suddenly THE room WAS FULL OF beetles, WHICH meant THREE times A week lying inside THE story, moving AROUND LIKE A fish. Random living DRIVING AN OLD car ALL OVER THE earth HAVING lots OF dreams OF blue, rather SIMILAR TO comments soon officeIALLY PUBLISHED….. telling hugE NONsense factS WHILST RUBBING white talking hands ALL OVER THE RABBITS, running AND sighed AS MY foot connected WITH A ROCK already taking years TO FORM INTO matter …..
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
I am here to offer you my services in exchange for board and lodging Madame Chesterhope, said Franiel, deciding to tactfully ignore for now her rather odd remark regarding his reality.
Oh please, call me Phoebe. Phoebe smiled kindly at Franiel. Have you come a long way? Well really, I forget my manners. Sit down and I will prepare you a drink and some food. Then you can tell me your story and what has bought you here.
And so it was that just a short while later Franiel found himself ensconsed on the settee sipping hot mulled wine from a huge mug. What strange twists and turns life may take, he mused.
And whether it was the wine that loosened his tongue, or the kindly look in Phoebe’s eyes and the attentive way in which she nodded her old head so wisely, but he found himself telling her the most surprising things, as though she were an old friend he had known and trusted all his life.
Thus it was that it had soon been agreed that Franiel’s proposal would be a mutually beneficial arrangement.
It is as though you are an angel, laughed Phoebe, sent by God to help me, for it was weighing heavily upon me that there is much that needs doing. Dear Lydia who you met on the path, well what would I do without her, but she is not getting any younger, and Derwent …. her voice trailed off.
Well you are the second person to call me an angel, for I met Derwent earlier who also mistook me for an angel, but I am afraid I must disappoint you both, for I am a very ordinary mortal.
Oh I am not the slightest bit disappointed, smiled Phoebe. Here, she said, delving into the top drawer of a huge oak dresser, take these keys. I keep most of the rooms locked, for the place is so big and there is no need for all those rooms. Feel free to have a look around as you will. You will find your room prepared for you on the second floor, third room on the right.
Franiel was surprised and it must have showed on his face.
It is the room I keep ready for visitors. She chuckled. Most of the visitors I have here have no need of a place to sleep mind-you.
These are the others you spoke of earlier? asked Franiel,curious. At that moment though Phoebe’s attention was distracted. She looked towards the window, which was wide open though there was a chill in the late afternoon air.
Ah! there you are my lovely one! she cried, her face lighting up in delight as a large and colorful parrot flew in the window and landed on her shoulder.
The bird squawked and cast a steely gaze on Franiel.
Of course I will introduce you, said Phoebe calmly, Franiel, meet Vincentius.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Quite frankly, Midora didn’t know how and where to look for Badul. She had spent lots of time delving into the labyrinth of chapters that composed the book, at first to no avail.
Only after some familiarization with the narrative had she come to roughly understand that the two books where rewriting the pages —or even, rewiring them— so that each time she started over, it was like a similar yet different story. Most of the alternate versions did occur within the same kind of environment, or the same dimensions as the previous ones, but there were always all kinds of small hints that made her get a small hunch that it was not quite the same story she had read before that was taking place now.
She had even become quite good at tracking down these flimsy moments where she found herself wondering what felt “different”, at odds, or simply not quite at the same place. Like in her dreams, these were precious cues telling her to pay attention. More than simple cues, of course some of them where howling at her face that something required her attention. The additions made by her distant relative Dory, or later on by her step-daughter Becky were compelling cases of such occurrences. Asynchronous apparitions of mummies sometimes reminded her of stories told by one of her father and where more generally speaking of symbolic death and regeneration, but when all of these cues where as many portals the details of which she could lose herself in…Naasir had told her to find Badul. She knew Badul… Like Midora herself, Badul was a facet of the dreaming dragon who was exploring the many facets of itself in an intricate play, and it felt to her that Badul was stuck somewhere in the process and required some attention. In fact, she remembered that in all the versions of the stories that she had read about, Badul’s history was never ended. Each time, he was on his way to explore the new land he had discovered, and somehow, he just never get there.
When she was trying to get to the rest of the story, as much as she would search for it, there were only blank pages.
Perhaps it was for her to write them, like Indy did after she encountered that mummy decades ago, not necessarily to exorcise the experience, but rather to learn more about her connections.What were her own connections? She wondered.
What did happen to Badul on his way to the clandestine traveling portal of Gralm Tur? And why did it matter? Did he found something about the network, and some link to the skulls which have been an obsession for quite some time for some of the major and most intriguing characters of this inter-dimensional sopoohpera?Truth was, Badul felt a bit like an oddball to her. She didn’t know how to get close to him. Apparently, when she had read the early articles from her great-uncle Cuthbert, she had found out that he had connected quite well to the daunting character. As a matter of fact, most of his comments had helped flesh out the character, while most of the other participants in the books had been only remotely observing his deeds. However priceless these clues were, Midora knew by now that they were not absolute, and would rewrite differently if the story was asking for it. And in fact, perhaps her own addition would change whatever his fate would have been.
Midora could feel Badul differently now… a young boy, whom she is babysitting, in another life.
Bastian is baby Badul’s name and he’s a toddler, a toddler exploring an unknown world made of colourful toys.
Midora (her name’s Ada in that focus) likes to work for little Bastian’s family. The woman, his mother, looks a bit odd like Morticia Addams, or like a Cher just out of her bed, but Ada likes her. She’s busy traveling alot, and doesn’t have much time to care for the baby.Midora thinks she has read about his woman somewhere in the books…
Could it be that? Yes,… there is little doubt about it.
It seems like she’s just run into young Carla…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
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.
In reply to: Armelle – meditations, dreams, synchs, thoughts
A day or two ago (might have been yesterday) when Eric was telling me something about a dream (which I thought was a story thread haha) I suddenly remembered that I had woken up that morning saying ‘Yurara Fameliki’
In reply to: Synchronicity
These are quite interesting… The retelling story feels particularly fit, especially considering The Story so Far threads
I also wasn’t aware of the CK(Conductive Keratoplasty) corrective eye surgery with sounds rather than laser methods…
But I didn’t come for that, actually.
I was browsing something totally unrelated, and found a news about the plot of Toy Story 3 revealed by the Wall Street Journal (ref). Something got my attention obviously, when I saw Circle 7 a division of Disney who worked on the previous Toy Story movies before acquisition of Pixar…In reply to: Synchronicity
I googled Circle of Eights
Give pairs seven post-its and ask the children to write down the main scenes. Take feedback and allow children to adjust/add to their post-its. Pairs then work on listing the scenes and sticking them in order. They should disregard any scenes that are not crucial, and just keep the key events.
Agree with the class the basic key scenes. Demonstrate how to make a few notes about each scene to help with a retelling.
In pairs, children make notes about each scene to help with retelling the tale. These should be kept to the barebones. In pairs, practice retelling the story, taking it in turns. Then put pairs together to retell their versions to another pair.
If time allows, build this up to circles of eight.
End the session by hearing several retellings. Encourage the children to evaluate between tellings, refining and improving their version.
Explore ways of altering the retellings. Children decide to alter one aspect. They then retell the tale, with the alteration. Pairs should then move into fours
and retell their new versions.
Build up to circles of eight if time allows.
The children recommend a version they have heard that is really effective. Listen to these, and as a class evaluate what makes an effective retelling. This enables more in-depth evaluation, especially by the storytellers themselves.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
What a francitic woman thought Elizabeth, a bit less distressed now she had secured her last insights into her clooh-box.
Hopefully, she could happily forget about those, and go for a walk to have some welcomed cooffee.Wishing she would not bounce into some unwelcome apparition, she trod her way to the outside world.
How long it had been? With all that pressure from her publisher, she had almost forgotten how exquisite it all was outside.
So simple, and yet so brilliant.It didn’t have the complexity of the Worlds of which she intuited things, nor the same amount of excitement it aroused in her, but nonetheless it was appeasing, and that was perhaps all she needed for the moment.
Perhaps a walk to Garden Centrool would do her great. Sitting on a bench near the dribbling foontain where cuckoos were drinking at the sound of woodpeckers’ holes drilling, she became entranced by the sound of water, and almost felt like dancing at the cuckoos and woodpecker’s cooing and drumming beats…
All this Lemone quotes were now far away… She’d had enough of them, and wanted simpler truths. Lively ones.
She could feel inspiration flow back into herself, as she envisioned her favorite depiction of inspiration, the mangeloose Pigoosus. Elizabeth was reeling in its wonderful aura, seeing the squinting eyes of the creature, the magnificence of its sprawled wings, its awe-inspiring moose antlers, and the slick body of a foxy mongoose with a protuberant snoot.It all was symbolic of herself of course, the best depiction of all her awesome features. The snoot for curiosity (and nose in general), the wings for imagination, the antlers for connection, and the mongoose for the fearlessness and sex-appeal.
Pigoosus, or Pigooh, as she called him, was telling him tales, tales that were spun between the gapping holes of her clooh-box items, and that were weaving them together in beautiful macramooh patterns.
The Shift in Earth-dimension awareness is coming and it is revealing long-lost hidden things, that is the reason of these other-dimensional bleed-through on the islands. Where those having hoped to bury some artifacts away of consciousness, in that dimension where all was so separated that even Pigooh would have had trouble getting throoh. The skulls gates one by one open now.…
Pen! She needed a pen!
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
My God, what the fuck is that?
Veranassessee sighed, seeing the two plump lady on top of one another, lying sprawled all fours on the ground, with the door blown out in shards.
Untie me Gabriele, so that I can ask for the nurse’s help. she said reluctantly to her partner, seeing with a bit of dolefulness, the effect of their strange erotic games already waning off.
— Are you alright ladies?
— Oh, I guess so, Vessie, sorry to have interrupted, we thought…
— Yes, yes… Veranassessee was feeling oddly detached from the women’s babbled and muddled excuses, and even more detached from her own sloppy appearance.
All she could think at the moment was that she seemed fated to marry Mahiliki, and get loads of children on Fukitupi, a doom that hovered on her head like a rapacious magpie over a precious gemstone…
Good thing she was so gorgeous she would look great even wearing a potatoes sack. Sure Gabriele had noticed that already…Arch-Agent Gabriele came back, telling her he had called nurse Bellamy on the intercom, and she would be here in a minute.
I’ll go to my room dear, we’ll talk later about Barbella. he said casually, a convenient code for “plan B” between them two.
Professional as he was, he had also, V’ass noticed, as the women were untangling themselves, made the box and the silky rope very stealthily disappear.Sure, they would have more time in the evening. But now, she noticed she’d been a bit too lax on the security around the new guests. Fine that Dr Bronkelhampton’s recommendations were to have the patients free for the first months of their treatments (after all, the more drastic transformations never occurred before the thirteenth week), but she had to be more careful about them.
She could not have them compromise “plan B”.B as Barbella… or rather…
B as Bee-hive. — Did you hear like me, Glo?
— I think so, Sha…
— What’s that Barbiella, Glo?
— Barbella, Sha, barbella, like barbell… Could be a woman’s name…
— Poor Vessie seemed so annoyed by the incident…
— Yes Sha, we have to help her somewhat, if we want her to forgive us
— Sure, we’ll find something to do, Glo.
— Yes… I don’t like that Barbella. Perhaps it’s the man’s…
— Gabriele
— Yes, Sha, Gabriele —does sound Italian, doesn’t it?
— I was about to tell you Glo…
— Perhaps that’s Gabriele’s wife…
— Or some kinky sadomasochistic practice we never heard of…
— Rhooo, Sha, chuckled Gloria, who was thinking of Veranassessee’s dress and wrists tying games…In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Vessie Darl, Sha and I are just popping down to the beach for some more of them special beauty sea waters you told us about.
Great idea, Gloria, responded Veranassessee vaguely. She watched absent-mindedly as Gloria’s generous body, clad only in a skimpy red bikini, disappeared down the corridor. There was something about that shade of red tugging at her memory. Vermillion red …
Red! PLAN B! Oh my God! how could she have forgotten!
It was two days since she had called him, that meant he would be here soon, that did not leave her much time to prepare.
Everything has to be perfect. She wears a silk vermillion red camisole, the one he gave her, scarcely covered by lush black velvet and topped with bright red lipstick. She casts her eyes critically around the room. It is nearly three years since she has seen him, she doesn’t want to spoil this moment. The glasses of soft red merlot are ready, a plate of miniature liqueur chocolates on a plate by the bed.
She shakes out her long dark hair and looks in the mirror. Her chocolate skin glows, her eyes are bright. She will do. She touches the red silk camisole … it is still beyond her comprehension how she can have forgotten.
When he arrives he is beautiful. Too beautiful. she thinks. It is so easy for him, effortless. He appraises the room and laughs casually, he knows how hard she has tried. Agent V he says, a pleasure to see you again. He kisses her. She remembers everything.
He takes a sip of the wine. She watches him, unsure of herself. He has a black bag with him.
He looks at her, sees her looking at the bag, and smiles slowly, I have something to show you, Agent V, he says, and she can sense his pride, the barely suppressed excitement in his voice.
He opens the bag carefully, pulls out a small white box, handles it lovingly. Two years experimentation in the Russian lab, he says softly, delicate threads of spun blue bonnet spider silk and yet strong enough to hang a bridge on.
He looks at her. Come here. he says
She hesitates for just a moment thinking of Mahiliki, and then inwardly shrugs, bugger it, I never really wanted to live on Fukitupi island and have loads of babies anyway. She moves over to him. He takes the transparent silk and slowly starts to wind the delicate thread around her wrists. Try and break it, he whispers in her ear, kisses her neck.
Then stops.
My God, what the fuck is that?
Veranassessee sighs.
No I swear Sha, I am telling you, I saw him go into Vessie’s room.
Oh my God Glor, he might be a murderer, or a bloody rapist even!
I tell you though, he were right bloody gorgeous.
Well never mind that! The door is locked Sha. I think we’d better shout out. Make sure she’s okay.
Right, good idea. And then if she doesn’t answer we can bash the door in and we can both pounce on him.
Right, on the count of three Glor, we’‘ll shout out, one… two… THREE!”
In reply to: Synchronicity
and other funny synchs
It began with Sam going to Australia, and a message I got from Marcy in my 360 after I told her about a crocodile egg… well it was an UWO.
She was telling me about Crocodile Dundee and the main actor Paul Hogan , who was a rigger as a former job… Eventually, I noticed just this evening that it was obviously connected to Sam going to Australia after Becky’s wedding.
Eric told me also that it was a synch with something he read in the comments this afternoon with the shrimpigators… and I was reading the stuff about Paul Hogan and they were just telling that he had made an ad before the Crocodile movie, and the main slogan was Shrimp on the barbie … obviously another synch.There are other synchs in the text… but especially another fun one
with a movie shot in 1980… Fatty Finn
And the hilarious part… well maybe not so hilarious but noticeable nonetheless, is about “from shady frog jumping contests to a fixed goat race”… In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud
THERE’S A fact THAT I remember.
sanso COMING TO THIS sunNY PLACE SO easily reached. THE stranger WAS telling THOSE AMAZING STORIES ABOUT HIS WORLD AND THE GIRL smiled.
TINY creatures WERE FLYING AROUND, ENJOYING THE SHINY weather.In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Piotr had a strange dream. His cousin was gone with a weird man… or was it a man?
Harasho (Good) that she was eventually gone. She wouldn’t have to meet Grishenka again. And he knew that they would eventually reach the place they were heading to …His family and the villagers had always thought that he was kind of nut. But at the age of 12, Piotr was quite aware of what was happening around, and beyond. He wasn’t just interested in telling the others. They didn’t want to know.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Oh, Thank Flove for that! exclaimed Becky delightedly, when she looked in the bathroom mirror on the morning of her wedding. The Siberian Blue Mud treatment worked!
WOW! said Becky as she peered at her reflection. It’s made me look fantastic!
Indeed, her skin was glowing like a summer peach. She smiled happily and sighed a deep sigh of contentment. She was glad she’d chosen Tina to be the Head Witness for the Russian style wedding ceremony. She knew she could trust her to carry out the ritual joke and poem telling with aplomb. Al and Sam would make great witnesses too. She couldn’t wait to hear their jokes and poems at the wedding party.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Unable to focus his attention on the now, Yann was amazed at his ability to create misunderstandings all around him.
People that were calling him, people that were emailing him… even himself with himself!
Trying to work, he was always clicking on the “wrong” mail, the “wrong” application, the “wrong” icon… wrong wrong wrong… he was laughing inwardly, thinking about what their friend Abby had told them yesterday about always thinking on the lack of or on the I can’t have it… well she was always doing this movement as if she was playing drums… and today at work, a friend of his came and told him it was an beautiful Monday, and she did this very same movement of playing the drum!!! he wasn’t aware that it was quite fitting the day coming.Though he could still focus on what was accomplishments in this day full of seeming obstacles. He really appreciated having lunch with Yurick, and laughing, talking of dolphins and stuffs
well they were planning and doing many things now that they were living together.Inspiration was here again, and the motivation too.
He had a dream last night about something that seemed quite important, something connected to him intimately. Almadar
what was the name about?When telling Yurick, it appeared that he had no impression about it, nonetheless he seemed quite interested, and it was also a synch as Yurick was also in the dream. Yann was asking him about modifying a pattern, energetic pattern to help a girl…
Who was she? She seemed familiar.
In reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories
Georges and Salome’s journal
From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Shu Lom Agamon. Part II
We first met in a series of dreams. I realized we were planning that even before we objectively took our decision with Salome to travel to this dimension, since in the dreams I was recalling previous encounters with him. Shu-Lom was a focus of Blöhmul, and Blöhmul was in many ways connected to this particular travel.
In the dreams we were meeting in a sort of semi spherical place, surrounded by 12 gates. The floor was composed of several materials, and the pattern was quite similar to the portal we used to travel to this dimension though a bit different as it included other aspect-tiles of the Jorid.
One of them was the diapason, vibrating between them both, and the compass was imprinted on the spherical ceiling, moving slowly like a starry night sky. The central triangle was showing some blended colorful energy patterns, changing with the orientation of their discussion.
— Each gate is connected with the others, was saying the Guardian, and you can use them to go wherever you want on the 3 planets. We created their physical manifestations, though they are not physical in the first place. The twelve gates are our representation of our own essence families in this dimension. I can tell you the names by which we call them if you want…
My silent acquiescing was enough, and as he was telling me the names, each corresponding gate was activated until they were all illuminating the room with their iridescent colors.
but I think I saw someone telling you that already :p:fish:
