Search Results for 'thoughts'

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  • #2508

    In reply to: Strings of Nines

    “Did you call me?” Sumhellfi the Devilish Half-Elf Half-Goblin :yahoo_devil: of the lost Dhataland poopped into existence to answer the wishes of the lost soul.

    When she had tripped on the dog’s turds that her friends had reminded her more than once to take care of removing, she also inadvertently moved the old family dusty fish-clock that sings when you stoke it. Only that it had not sung for years —Flove forbids! That awful drunkard song didn’t play now there wasn’t any battery left in the horrible decoration.
    Was it a magic clock? With a genie in there? :ghost:

    While Yoland was lost in deep thoughts and concern, Sumhellfi leaned forward with an enticing raise of the eyebrows :yahoo_smug: “May I offer you some sliced naggin? It tastes like coleslaw they say…”

    #2041

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      told
      ask
      choice
      looked
      wonder
      escape
      lady love earth
      often
      soon
      seeing
      running
      meaning
      thoughts clue
      mind adventure

      #2221
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        In many ways Sally Tattler felt herself to be the antithesis of her twin sister, Ann. Tall, where Ann was short. Well groomed, where Ann’s grooming, quite frankly, left much to be desired. Organised, as opposed to the state of chaos that Ann….

        Oh for the love of God, Sally. Will you be quiet and stop messing with my head!

        The downside of being a twin, mused Ann, well, one of the many downsides it could perhaps be said, was the ability to hear each other’s thoughts so clearly. It was a shame of course that Sally had such a high opinion of herself, unwarranted …

        unwarranted! pffft to that! Ann felt a burst of energy from her indignant sister.

        Well, anyway, for today at least Ann felt sustained by her daily Eremus Lemon reading, and impervious … well nearly … to the telepathic barrage of negativity from her twin sister.

        we’re all nuts anyway; different flavours thereof, but nuts nonetheless, peanuts, peacan or up the wall-nuts

        Up the wall-nuts! Humorous as well as wise! Ann shook her head in awed admiration.

        #2211

        Oh bugger this Harvey pestered against his pinhole third eye monocle which had just fallen again in his tea.

        He’d developed a strange case of telepathy myopia —which he had hoped to alleviate with the monocle— that prevented him to hear the thoughts of the others when they weren’t as close enough a distance.

        Doc Limure, a strange fellow, had diagnosed him when he had told about the strange symptoms and advised him to carry the pinhole monocle for awhile. But it wasn’t really practical at all to maintain before his eye; he had to keep his telekinesis in check, and as soon as he let his thoughts drift away, the thing would fall.
        He started to wonder if Dr Limure had not made some practical joke on him.

        #2191

        I don’t remember dreams at all unfortunately, she confided, her voice lowered. But, on the bright side, the DMT I have been taking is helping me to see aliens and little people.

        Her close friend Harvey Norman, circus performer and proxy dreamer in his spare time, nodded distractedly, not really listening. He was more concerned at that moment with investigating any visible damage to his precious nose. Freakin heck! a freakin oven! what would the producers come up with next?

        Oh you know what! she continued, unperturbed by Harvey’s lack of attention. I’m pregnant! I’m so excited. I have a name picked and everything. I am going to call it Essence. The Fellowship said I could pick it up next week!

        Oh yeah? The Fellowship said next week? That’s pretty cool. Didn’t know you were after a baby. They are a bit hard to come by now aren’t they? So who is the father donor?

        None other than the great Col Umbro himself! She smiled proudly, anticipating the effect her words would have. She was not disappointed.

        Wow! Col Umbro! The Zebra! Harvey stopped the investigation of his nose in order to shake his head in disbelief. How did YOU manage that?

        Oh, well you know last week when I had that interview with Ann Tattler? you know, the crazy author who doesn’t write any more, just listens?

        Harvey noodded and roolled his eyes disparagingly. Used to be Elizabeth right? yeah sure, who hasn’t heard of her… so, go on …

        Well, HE was there, and he suggested I ask him some questions, you know to assess my suitability for the position. Somehow, by some freakin miraculous fluke, I managed to get the questions in the right order .. he is a bit obsessed with the whole order thing …. but I didn’t know that till after … so anyway, he was so impressed with my obvious brilliance that he offered to father a baby for me!

        Harvey, rendered momentarily speechless, shook his head again. He had never had much time for babies himself, although appreciated that some people were into
        them.

        Yeah, I know what you mean, she said, reading his thoughts. Actually I am not sure if I have really thought it through. I might have got caught up in the whole thrill of the moment thing … to be honest, I don’t know if little Essence will fit into my lifestyle. I am supposed to be going to Asgard next week …

        Asgard? Really, can you still get through? I thought the bridge was crumbling?

        oh really! bugger! … Oh but anyway I am thinking of giving little Essence to my cousin Aspidistra. She is such a funny old thing with her strange glowing skin. A little baby to care for could do her the world of good.

        #2186
        EricEric
        Keymaster

          “Speaking of infinite details,” said Björn who was watching a circus program with a muscular looking man who balancing his contortionist partner who was attempting to balance plants on her face.

          “What?” said Iris who was already dozing on the couch.

          “Sorry dear, I was just talking to myself, have nice dreams”, he said, stroking gently her freckled face.

          He continued in his head, slightly dozing off himself.

          “One two, one two. Testing the acoustics… Sounds good.”

          “Funny how these thoughts come in and out… It occurred to me something funny.”

          :fleuron:

          “Can you add a plush toy in your dream?”
          “Oh sure darling. What kind of?”
          “A baby aardvark”

          :fleuron:

          Björn wasn’t very comfortable yet, he started to toss and turn until he realized he was seated on Iris’ plush aardvark. He fondly placed the little soft thing in Iris’ arms and returned to his thoughts.

          “There, it’s inserted…”
          “Now, your reality can be viewed to some extent as the most complex, yet the most simple of assemblage. You may liken it if you will to a room with mirrors (*). Ancient Indian mystics have spoken of Indra’s net where droplets of waters are each reflecting all of the other ones; these are the same images.
          It is not new information to you, the fact that you are seeing your reflection in your world, or that it is a sort of illusion reflecting you, but this is not the point we want to highlight here.

          Consider that the room in which you are is reflected an infinite amount of times in every direction. In a sense, they are all the same. They are you. Now, we come to the interesting part. You may very well decide to explore the room next to you with its shining details, by going through one of these mirrors. Some individuals quite enjoy such explorations, they call it past or future or even probabilities, other dimensions etc. And by moving into the next room, it becomes their present.

          You now realize that you have not really moved, since all rooms reflect only you. And you may want to continue in the direction you are exploring and go into more rooms. It’s alright. But some individuals realize that all rooms are equivalent, and that from where you stand, you can view the point you wish to explore in one part of the mirrors reflections. This is being present. You shift your attention, and expand your vision of the tiny part, rather than moving towards it with great efforts.

          Now, when you are dreaming, the very nature of dreams is the same. It gives you a whole fractal hologram to ponder. You may get carried away by wanting to remember all the tiny details, because in doing so, what you are doing is simply opening rooms upon rooms upon rooms. And more details will be created for you! Or you can simply realize that the details are all contained within your feeling of being present, and standing in the middle of one of these rooms, and not one of them is more important than the next.

          Connect to your feeling, and all the natural movements of your explorations will be automagically connected. And we bid you a nice fractal dream exploration.”

          #2185
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The fact of the matter, if indeed there was a such a thing as a fact, was that Elizabeth needed to sort out her probable selves. They were constantly overlapping and it was causing a great deal of confusion. She decided to reinvent herself completely, starting with a new name.

            She sat quietly chain smoking as she pondered possible names.

            ‘Just choose a short one this time, one that’s easy to write. It really doesn’t matter what name you choose, but in the interests of ease, just make it short.’

            Ann sat quietly chainsmoking, wondering where to start.

            ‘Perhaps you should go back to bed’.

            Ann sighed, feeling tired and disillusioned at the unexpected changes. It felt like too much effort to start afresh, as if the disruptions and changes everywhere were permeating her own private sanctuary, and stray random thoughts now had no easy path towards release, that they would be bogged down and hampered with new details, and new explanations.

            ‘You don’t have to write anything.’

            But there was so much to say!

            ‘Try listening instead’.

            #2184

            Unfortunately Aspidistra couldn’t remember the dream that she had told Dick. I wish I could remember it, she muttered to herself. I suppose if Dick suggested I sing the joys of life upon awakening that it must have been an unpleasant dream, she mused, and as such it’s perhaps not terribly important that I recall it.

            “What are you mumbling about now, Aspidistra?” groaned Philodendron, her sister. “It’s hard enough to get some sleep as it is with you glowing all the time; if you’re going to keep mumbling as well, well, it’s just not fair!”

            “I wasn’t even speaking aloud, Phil!” retorted Aspidistra, stung at the unfairness of the accusation. “You shouldn’t be listening in to my thoughts in the first place, you nosey parker.”

            Philodendron sighed and rolled over, pulling the blankets over her head in an attempt to block out the glow and the mental chatter bombarding her from every direction. I really need to learn how to block all this, she thought, I can’t seem to get a moments peace anymore.

            “You’re right, you do, Phil” replied her sister.

            AARRGGHH!” Phil shouted. “Don’t keep answering my thoughts, they’re private! Bugger off!”

            #1270
            AvatarJib
            Participant

              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.

              #1209

              From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Phoebe Chesterhope. Part II

              She wasn’t paying attention to the other clients. She was like one of these statues at Madame Tussauds, still and beautiful, surrounded by mystery. Was she lost in her thoughts? Her rich clothes suggested that she was fortunate and the anxious look the jeweller was giving her every 2 minutes let me think that she was also quite influencing.

              About ten minutes after we had entered the shop with Catherine, a man arrived. Small and bald, poorly dressed, he was carrying a parcel wrapped in a piece of rough fabric that he was holding very carefully. The owner almost jumped on him in his rush and told him something briefly before he introduced him to Madam Tussaud, her face suddenly filled up with life. Not that she was smiling or welcoming him in any manner, but her eyes were suddenly sparkling with determination. I realized that she was taking on herself not to look too obviously at the parcel.

              “I expect you have a more private place so we can discuss our arrangement with mister…”
              “Fessard, Madam. Roger Fessard.”
              “Whatever…” she took her time to look openly at the other customers before she continued, staring reproachfully at the man. “I need some privacy to evaluate what he brought me.”

              Her accent was almost perfect and her french flawless. But faking to be a stranger myself most of the time, I was sure she wasn’t from here… maybe Britain.

              “Of course, Madam” said the owner in his conspicuous servile tone. He led Madam and Roger to a door behind the counter and they entered the room; the bald man put his packet on a table and began to unwrap it as Madam said sharply to the jeweller : “Leave us.” The damn man obeyed and closed the door before I could see anything more.

              #1200
              AvatarJib
              Participant

                After that strange dream, Yann had completely forgotten about the city and the puzzle reality game and the park. He’d caught a cold and a disturbing hiccup that made his thoughts hard to follow. He’d been wanting to do so many things during that week end, and it was all running away from him.

                Yurick was preparing him some medicine made from essence drops and jasmine tea, and Yann particularly enjoyed how his friend was taking care of him… he was feeling like a child of about 8. Though he was grumpy and mumbling a lot, he was pleased that they shared this occasion to talk about everything and nothing in particular. When Yurick told him about a lightus flower and a spam about a puzzle, Yann remembered his dream and what he saw there. He was telling his friend about the different patterns he saw in that park and that’s when emerged the idea of a book.

                The 2 friends were quite excited about the idea of a hidden city, yet to unfold. This book would be one step toward its manifestation.

                Yann, who was quite readily passionate about weird things was already imagining walking the ground of the park and hearing the sound of the water condensing from no cloud and falling in the even pong.

                “And you know what? That teacher you were listening to in my dream, something in his way of speaking reminds me of Aleksane…”

                “I have the impression of a hearty laugh, an eye and a thrilling atmosphere”, said Yurick.

                #1193
                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  Georges and Salome’s journal

                  From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 3)

                  Cil and I have stayed on the Murtuane longer than was required for the report on the events occurring here. Though it was not required, it proved invaluable for me to gather much information on both the planet itself, but more important, on the interconnections with the other planets and the Guardians themselves.

                  A pivotal point in this exploratory mission was the impressive encounter with one of the few still focused Nirguals of this dimension. N’meôrl, as he introduced himself to us, out of concern for the current events came to contact Cil despite his looking askance at the Guardians on the whole.
                  As it appears to be, due to their acute awareness of how energy can be manipulated to create one’s own reality, some of the Guardians became to view themselves as superior in knowledge and skills as to the other conscious creatures roaming on this dimension —most of whom already having far more understanding of things deemed “magical” in my own earthly dimension of origin. However, viewing themselves as such (though by no means the standards in the Guardians societies) had them manipulate some of these others; mostly to entertain themselves or to experiment, without concern as to the others’ reactions.

                  Frown upon by many Guardians, this practice was tolerated notwithstanding, and had created a few pockets of what the Guardians called “slaves”. Inquiring to Cil as to how people with such thin veils between their subjective creative source and the objective realizations could become “slaves” to others, she had struggled a bit to explain to me at first. Allowing her to reach into my awareness for associations or analogies with similar energetic displays, she surprised me —surprised is even a mild word for my initial reaction— by telling me it was the same as our religions. Struggling initially to understand her point, I find myself, if not entirely agreeing with it, at least being able to explain what she meant by that. To her, people were ultimately free unless they themselves were tricked into bondage. But bondage could be of various nature, and she continued to explain, physical bondage was the less efficient of all. “Guidance”, on the opposite, with the proper construction of suggestions and beliefs, could yield very efficient results.
                  So, those “rogue” Guardians were nothing else but priests? The difference between this association and Cil’s distaste for them seemed too strong. Perhaps I would have to reassess my own beliefs.

                  So, apparently some of these Guardians had been responsible for disturbances. Cil seemed to understand that something grave was happening, but when she tried to explain to me, once again words or clusters of thoughts seemed to fail her. She found in my memory some analogy which seemed again quite besides the point, though very intriguing.
                  She said it was similar to what our medicine men were doing with their needles. She probably had reached into my memories of traditional acupuncture medicine. She went on to compare the planets as a single body, with bumps and hollows in energy; usually, the body knows how to harmoniously balance both of these, and a bump can reflect into a hollow and vice-versa. Sometimes, when people create illnesses, the practitioner will move these to help. But something else was happening here: the flow was artificially changed, she said.
                  “What was the point in that?” I asked. She pondered for a moment, then answered without judgment that it was probably for the sake of the experience.
                  “The Nirgual is mostly warning us that this experience may not lead to an equilibrium before long. That it may profoundly modify the energy on the planets, and not for the better. The Murtuane and its Turmak people have mostly had a stabilizing impact on the very energetic events happening on the Duane. Modifying this could quickly take things out of our hands” she said worriedly.

                  #1167
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    a hotel room in Auckland, New Zealand

                    Veranassesee closed her report silently.

                    What a mess it all had been. Given the circumstances, she had acted with unbelievable self-possessed strength and wit.
                    She had little doubt she would be fired though. The Confregation wasn’t exactly known for their blanket acceptance of excuses for people’s short-failures —or worse, for their lack of accepting their own responsibility. Quite the contrary.
                    She would be expected to resign, and even the smoldering hot and sexy Agent Gabriele’s intercession wouldn’t be seen with a complaisant eye.

                    “No matter…” She had managed to keep everyone she could out of trouble or certain death, and for that she was quite proud of herself. Even if her job was most of the time to actually make sure they would meet their death more quickly. Perhaps she was getting too soft for that job.

                    The phone rang abruptly cutting her off her trail of thoughts.

                    “Yes?” (…) “Mmmhhh mmmh” (…) “Okay. Fine. Thank you.”

                    She would be presenting her report’s conclusions at the hearing tomorrow, and then would be free to go. Start a new life maybe; or get back to Mahiliki who was for now confined with the aircraft’s pilot in one of the Confregation’s detention centers for interrogation. They’d say it wouldn’t be long; they wanted to make sure no crucial information had leaked.
                    She couldn’t really pity Mahiliki; he was cute… harmless in many ways; she was sure he would be out in a matter of days,… and unsurprisingly get back to his peasant’s life on Fikitupi.

                    As for herself… that may be a whole other story.

                    #1127

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    :fleuron:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    :fleuron:

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

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

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

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

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

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

                    And One again they were.

                    #1123

                    Upon hearing Malvina’s thoughts, Arona smiled to herself.

                    If only she knew the truth!

                    ( If I put big spaces in-between, it will make it look as though I have written more, decided Tina rather cleverly, still feeling a bit creatively uninspired.)

                    Tempted though she was, Arona knew she must not give anything away. It was easier to stay in character if she did not allow herself to remember too often, at least until this cave mission was complete. Occasionally she allowed herself the luxury of remembering, yet to do so was to feel a yearning for home.

                    It was a pity about the outfit of course, the mouldy cloak…

                    ( hmmm was it mouldy though or just a bit on the musty side? )

                    … which the Oddlings had decided she would wear for much of this assignment was not her favourite look. Even though she had managed eventually to lose it in the darkness of the cave, her current clothes were now almost in tatters. Arona sighed wistfully, remembering the beautiful silks, chiffons and organzas some of her previous assignments.

                    Moments later she brightened again thinking of Vincentius and her other friends.

                    There were certainly compensations, she decided philosophically.

                    Arona was a little concerned about the meddling of Malvina and the others, although of course she realised they were doing it with the best of intentions to fulfill their own purposes. Arona understood all this, and sometimes regretted she could not tell them who she really was. The powerful thought shields she had been trained in by the Oddlings meant that her disguise had not so far been penetrated.

                    Yet she hated to deceive.

                    Not to worry. For now she must just focus on the completion of her own mission here.

                    She called to Buckberry softly in her thoughts and felt a little thrill of excitement when she heard his response. She knew she would have need of the little dragon for the task which lay ahead.

                    #1071

                    Lady Eagleston enjoyed staying in the warm potting shed, taking her time to enjoy, appreciate and admire the ecstatic beauty of the blooming orchids. She let her thoughts wander for a few moments in the pleasant place smelling of cedar.

                    Her old friend, Hector Coon had sent her a rather unusual present this morning: a few bits coming from a watermelon’s rind strangely carved with unusual symbols. What an eccentric charming old fool this Hector
                    They both loved to do each other unexpected presents of which they would then try to find some underlying meaning. Not that there was any such meaning to be identified most of the time, but it was some time pleasantly spent.

                    So, she had thought the only place safe to bring the bits to was here — mostly to protect them from the furious cleaning practices of Finnley, who wouldn’t have the pleasure to throw them to the garbage this time. She had seen his disgusted look when she had opened the package with excitement.
                    Well, now what would he imagine she was doing in there?… :yahoo_whistling:

                    #1040
                    Avatar1da
                    Participant

                      7:33:59 AM 8-19-08 ∞1da Geolocation Time.

                      days of sleeping slip by. the light on the peaks soft, golden in the cool dawn. a shiver. the water would be cold but thirst is a motivating factor. movement would mean warmth. birds flitting from branch to branch…

                      stones to perch on. river jade at my finger tips. the babble of a quickly flowing stream. scooping with one hand to drink from a clear pool, the musky scent of cedar and low water.

                      across the wide stream, a river. actually. no. the amount of water between a stream and a river. a young buck, head bent low also drinking. antlers. how are years marked again? two prongs on each side. is that two years after reaching mating age? or four. no matter. eyes latch across rapidly flowing water. we watch each other. both still, both quiet. both recognizing in each other another survival being of dreams.

                      dream memory extending into long ago. no. longer than that. the rules to colonizing a planet. simple universal rules. one band of survival beings with a limited number of nuclear families from any survival being group that wishes to expand into livable planets. set down in one place – with nothing. no food. no implements. not even clothes. if they survive they colonize. if not. well. the universe is full of tried and failed experimentation. The pulse of all that is drawn into a black hole. drawn in and back out through tunnels of light that are trapped within the black hole…

                      the fact that more than one form of survival being can attempt to colonize one planet at any given time is both an advantage and a disadvantage. they become resource for each other as well as competition – resource and competition, as is all that is within and upon the planet.

                      still that cave, that First Cave. on the tip of the continent in the southern hemisphere… blue ocean view… a beginning that is long ago. how long ago? 160,000 planet years? 200,000 thousand planet years? late arrivals as we are, this is where our colonization is now. Digging to find those memories and what is left of that initial arrival…

                      walking up this valley on the other side of a continent, an ocean away from First Cave… funny how time advances forward and backward in both directions – in all directions – and remains the same. This now is the same now as that now and remains the same in both directions as it passes around each of us.

                      the sun trickling across the tips of trees lower and lower into the valley. another half an hour and it will be in my face.

                      might as well eat breakfast while I walk. thimble berries, currents, oh! yarrow. i could make tea. – if I made fire. If I had fire… or i could make yarrow tea because i have sun. . .

                      at peace within because i know i am returning to the High Portal Cave on the mountain, near the timberline. the central entrance, near the ancient pine. The safe harbor of the High Portal Cave, the entrance to a multitude of passageways, interconnecting chambers and stunning connecting points that open beyond this time and beyond this continent – before and after this continent. probably, through the right passage way opening beyond this planet. I don’t know that, it makes sense that it does. I believe I will find out in my memory or in my future. i remember some of these things and places. not all of them. i remember entering, finding the stone trough of water with the wooden drinking bowl on the damp ledge. i remember passageways that lead to incredible places and times. why return now? without knowing i know. this is the way it is because this is the way it will become.

                      warm sun on my chest. warm from walking. birds, quiet as i approach, resume their constant foraging as i pass. along the shore the constant sound of the river stream like the white noise of the universe, beautiful and ever present so that if i am not mindful i no longer hear it.

                      a walking stick. ok, a broken branch caught between boulders. still green enough to be strong, almost as thick as my forearm with little taper and altho it is not straight, it is a head taller than i am – perfect. a walking stick. a walking staff. i work it loose from the rocks. strange markings… the hand of an intelligent being – a gift then.

                      do images become visible on these pages or only the thoughts and sights from within my mind, i wonder. i try to remember not to believe all that i think… if i wonder… then do i attempt to find out? yes, often enough, yes. and why is short hair exciting, new, a sign of adventuring? changes. oh. perhaps. or perhaps it’s a way of changing breath. I smile. I walk on.

                      #936

                      California, 1849

                      Almost five months… Five whole months they’d been traveling all around the place at a very slow pace.
                      Twilight was enjoying every instant of being in the middle of that strange moving cohort.

                      She had been inspired to write daily. Not much at the beginning, but it was all “in the dedication and intent that marvel would shine through”, as Felix, the Otter man had been saying to her.

                      In truth, she wasn’t really expecting marvels, but marvels had come to her more than once.
                      At times, she even felt compelled to write about it to Jo and Elroy, her dear brothers. Of course, she’d been writing with a clockwork regularity, posting sometimes more than a few letters at each of their settling near a new town, all the way from Texas, to Colorado, Utah, Nevada and finally California. She wasn’t even sure the actual letters were reaching them, but she more than once felt like her thoughts had reached them throughout the distance, and her dreams would confirm her into these intuitions.
                      That trip was hard, harder than she would have guessed, with all the heat, dust and chaotic dirt trails, but the company and fellowship was always uplifting, and a joy of each instant.
                      Even the war between America and Mexico that made travel even more perilous was over after two years, and things all around seemed to settle down more peacefully as if to reflect that truce.

                      And now, looking at all of what she had gathered, she was amazed at these marvels she had collected, those nuggets of their lives, each moment seemingly so fleeting and trite, and yet, as they were put together, all marvelously interwoven.
                      Though she mostly loved passionate real-life stories, she had to admit she had a soft spot (or let it be said, an un-common spot) for one of her most delirious story.
                      She had been inspired to write something about giant ants after she’d been amazed at seeing huge ant hills during their trip in the deserts. There was this mad quack who was trying to extract some sort of honey from giant ants to make a powerful drug, and and she had added lots of her friends from the show inside this story. Herself was a delightful jet-black haired beauty with an impossible name and diverse and frustrated love interests, spying on the mad quack… She even started to dream about that story at times…

                      She loved that gentle slipping into abundant nutness…

                      Now that they were arrived in San Francisco, she was considering settling there for a while, sharing her time between writing and dancing. Time would tell.

                      #902
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Blimey O Riley, said Becky when she read what she’d written the previous evening. As she read it over again, though, a picture began to form in her mind, a character was starting to form.

                        I was connecting to a focus, she surmised, A focus as a simple country washerwoman. A simple person, choosing to experience a life of simple pleasures, not bogged down with deep meaningful thoughts or ideas; not striving for insights or accomplishments, a pure and simple life for a pure and simple soul.

                        The washerwoman used words differently, she didn’t use words to communicate with anyone, she simply used the bubbling gurgling endless stream of sounds to amuse herself…endlessly babbling, always smiling, infinitely amused with the sheer joyous nonsense of the sounds tumbling from her lips, broadcasting seeds of absurdity in the cornfields and the meadows of the hay hoo down dooly…..

                        #893

                        The day had been long. Actually, from an outside perspective he had been apparently sleeping almost all of it, so it was not appearing as if it could be a really exhausting day at all.
                        But Al had been extending his body researches in the subjective. He’d started to play again with his various dream bodies he had known the existence of for quite a while now, though he hadn’t yet found the time to experiment with them fully enough. An idea he owed to Sam, who he had been pleased to hear about his unusual experiences in the Australian bush, or more accurately, in the Dreamtime.

                        Playing with these various “bodies”, or qualities of attention and perception, he was aware that his thoughts on the recent events occurring in their story was still unfolding in the backstage of his attention. A rehearsal perhaps…
                        Nevertheless, he was delaying the actual representation, for he felt he was not yet ready for it.
                        He could feel lots of information waiting for him to download them and process them. But he wanted to do it with clarity.

                        Last try had not been very convincing… He had dreamt of a midget Tina, in a flowing mauve and lemon chiffon dress. Of course, in the dream he had taken great care of not hurting her feelings, all the more since she seemed so fond of the dress. He couldn’t really tell her that the dress was giving her an enormous butt and that she was rolling her hips comically when she was walking… Impossible…
                        While dream-Al was searching for words to truthfully convey his appreciation of whatever little thing that could be left to appreciate on that dress, dream-Sam had been quick to tell dream-Tina she looked like fairy Nuf. What had he said! She soon started to weep noisily. Fairy Nuf, as anyone knew, is a purple-clad plump grumpy fairy, with a pointy hat and she couldn’t possibly look that bad.
                        Speak about clarity…

                        Al tried again to concentrate. Taking deep breathes.

                        He could feel more and more clearly the presence of the woman. Her aura was beckoning, and she seemed to want to share information with him —pieces of information he would be free to tell others or not, it didn’t matter.
                        What mattered was that there was this deep desire for this information which was coming from him; and equally as deep as his, her own desire to share was palpable.

                        Salome ” he whispered “ I am ready to see
                        He soon started to fall into another lucid dream…

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