Tracy

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  • in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1189

    Everyone had been disappointed that the Day of the Dead Party had been a wash out, cancelled because of the torrential rain. An alternative date had not yet been set for the boulder moving party, and the interior of the mysterious mound was to remain an enigma for a while longer.

    Dan had been frankly relieved about the cancellation, preferring to get sodden on the Volderama golf course instead. He’d been delighted to meet Sergio Garcia there, especially as his old friend Juani Ramirez had had a dream several years previously about him and Sergio.

    Dory and Becky were disappointed though. They’d both been consumed with curiosity about the mound and it’s blue tiled interior and were eager to explore the inside physically, rather than with the customary psychic investigations and meditations. Never the less, they were both aware that when the time was right, everything would slot into place.

    There was much to keep them occupied, what with the time travelling mouse that was camped behind the microwave oven, and the impending arrival of Granny Hill.
    Becky had named the mouse Will, short for Will O’ The Wisp, but that was before she knew that he was a time traveller. She left him a variety of tasty morsels next to the toaster, which Will took to his hide-out — Marie biscuits, dried cranberries, little chunks of Swiss cheese, and sometimes an almond or two. She left him a piece of lettuce and two sweet corn kernels once, but he hadn’t been at all interested. Obviously Will wasn’t a victim of nutrition beliefs, and Becky was impressed.

    Wondering what else Will might like to eat for variety, and because she was beginning to realize that this wasn’t just any old ordinary mouse, Becky sent a message to Dory’s friend Mac Brock, who always seemed to be able to pull interesting information out of his hat. Mac’s wife Wanda replied first, confirming Becky’s impression that this was no ordinary mouse, but in fact contained an energy fleck of Tarkin, the Brocks non-physical friend from the future. Shortly afterwards, Mac replied, saying that Will-Tarkin liked asparagus.

    Asparagus! Becky found that quite funny, because ‘asparagus’ had been the code word that the time travellers had said that they would use. She had been looking forward to meeting a time traveller. Little did she know that the first time traveller to come and stay at her house would be a mouse!
    :mouse:

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1182

    “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that you’re a Parcel Delivery company, and you don’t have a map? You deliver parcels and you don’t have a map, you don’t have the internet, and your delivery man doesn’t have a phone?”

    Bea was beginning to sound exasperated, Leonora thought. Must be the parcel people. “Parcel people?” she asked. “ A mobile phone wouldn’t be any use here anyway, Bea” she added “There’s no network cover.”

    “My address?” Bea said into the telephone in an increasingly desperate voice. “Three people have called asking for my address” Bea took a deep breath and tried to change her energy. “My address is The House Down The Road Behind The Black Horse Bar” Bea paused for breath and continued “Through The Green Gates which are Behind The Fountain And Next To The Palm Tree. Tomorrow? You were supposed to come today! You were supposed to come yesterday as a matter of fact so I stayed home all day…”

    “You weren’t going out anywhere anyway, Bea” Leo said mildly.

    “Well I won’t be here tomorrow, can you just leave the parcel at the post office? What? Of course they’ll know who it’s for, it’ll have my bloody name and address on it! What? No, I don’t know what street the post office is on, haven’t you got a map? No? Well Google it! You’re kidding. You’re a parcel delivery company! What’s your name, by the way?”

    “Well would you believe it, she hung up on me!”

    “How wonderfully Spanish” said Leonora. “Remember the last parcel people? Wouldn’t deliver to houses without a number. So if I go out and paint a number, let’s say 57, on my gate, you’ll deliver the parcel, I said to them, and they said, well yes I suppose so, so I did. I went out to the shed and grabbed the first paint…”

    “That swimming pool blue”

    “…yeah bit bright isn’t it, that blue paint and I painted the number on it, and the neighbours came out and asked what I was doing…”

    “They delivered the parcel though, didn’t they Leo”

    “They did. There’s a knack to dealing with parcel people.”

    Bea was quiet for a few minutes and then asked “What’s that then?”

    “What’s what?” asked Leonora.

    “What’s the knack? How do you get parcel people to deliver?”

    Leo laughed and said she didn’t really know. “Change your energy, make a game of it, see what happens.”

    Just then the phone rang. Bea answered it.

    “Well how about that” said Bea, hanging up the phone a few moments later. “That was the parcel delivery man. He’s on his way now.”

    Five or six hours later, just after the parcel delivery man had finally arrived, Bea beamed as she opened the brown cardboard parcel.

    “I’ve been dying to read this, it’s the sequel to T’Eggy Gets a Good Rogering. I ordered two copies, I thought Baked Bean Barb might want one too, you know, as a bit of a thank you for the book she’s bringing round for us.”

    Leo said “You what!” and rolled her eyes. “Really Bea, couldn’t you have chosen something better than that?”

    “Define ‘better’, Miss Prim Prunes” retorted Bea. She was too happy about the books arrival to mind Leo’s remarks. Then she shouted “OH MY GOD! They’ve sent the wrong books!” so loudly that Leo jumped.

    “Good grief!” exclaimed Leonora, taking a closer look. “Circle of Eights! But that’s the book that Baked Bean Barb found on the rubbish tip, the book she’s bringing round for us!”

    “I don’t believe it!” Bea whispered, awed by the bizarre coincidence. “That’s the book with us in it.”

    “What a hoot!” said Leo.

    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1176
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “We must go to the Elsespace Arrangement” Sanso repeated “At once.”

      “OK” Zhana shrugged and smiled up at him. She was enjoying wandering around with Sanso and was in no particular hurry now to reach Nishanti.

      “We can use the Elsespace Arrangement to get to where we need to go” Sanso said and Zhana asked where were they going anyway, to which he replied “We’ll know. Whatever pops into your head will be a clue.”

      “A clue to where we’re going?”

      “Oh not necesarily, it might be a clue to something else entirely” replied Sanso.

      “Well doesn’t that get a bit confusing? How do you know which clue is a clue to what question?”

      “What?” asked Sanso, frowning. “What was the question?”

      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1173
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “Wise move, Al” Becky said conspiratorially “Very wise move to convert that text into code. You have no idea of the danger you might have been in!”

        “Oh don’t be silly, Becky, what possible danger could I have been in? Danger of a tongue lashing perhaps, but not actual danger!”

        “Don’t you be so sure, Al! Someone —and I don’t know who, it was sent to me anonymously— sent me this newspaper clipping , here, look at this:”

        TOKYO: A 43-year-old Japanese woman whose sudden divorce in a virtual game world made her so angry that she killed her online husband’s digital persona has been arrested on suspicion of hacking, police said Thursday.

        “Sacrebleu!” exclaimed Al, with an involuntary shiver.

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1170

        “See you on Saturday then, Barb, hasta luego!” Bea said, hanging up the phone. “Baked Bean Barb wants to bring a few friends to the Day of the Dead party, Leo, I said it was ok”. Turning to Leonora, who was hunched over the computer. she asked “Ok with you?”

        “What?”

        “I said…”

        “Friends of Baked Bean Barb? Have you ever met any of them?”

        “One or two, yes,” replied Bea “They were quite a colourful bunch, I thought”

        “Colourful!” Leo nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. “They’re colourful alright! Smelly too, most of them”

        “Oh don’t be such a snob, Leo! You’d be smelly too if you lived in a car.”

        “Good job the party’s going to be outside, that’s all I can say. Anyway Bea, have a look at this” Leo turned back to the computer. “This Reality Play thing I’m subscribed to, they’re spitting out new entries left and right this afternoon, I can hardly keep up with it”

        “Shove over then, let’s ‘ave a look”

        in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1164
        TracyTracy
        Participant


          Becky looked at the pebbles in her hand and then looked up at the little jars of sand on her kitchen shelf.

          “Pompeii and Ville Franche, I’d like you to meet Grand Canyon, Valley of Fire and Zion” she said ceremoniously, and placed the little shard of black rock and the smooth taupe pebble on the shelf next to the jar of Zion sand.

          In her hand she still held the aquamarine quartz crystal. “You’re different” she said “And I’m not sure what to do with you yet.”

          The previous evening she’d found herself holding the sea green stone in her hands as she listened to an unexpected voicemail from Jane. As Jane sang the Sumari song, Becky had felt the crystal glow and vibrate. She wasn’t quite sure what it all meant, but somehow it seemed significant that these unexpected gifts — the aquamarine quartz, the pebbles from Pompeii, and the Sumari song of Creation from Jane — that arrived on the same day, were all connected.

          The second voicemail she felt sure was for Sean — Jane singing Molly Malone , and at the end of the voicemail, laughing.

          Becky smiled. Whatever it was, it felt good.

          “Aquamarine is excellent for the 5th, or communication chakra. It can help singers and orators get the full quality of expression by releasing emotions that get blocked in the throat.”

          “Well, what a coincidence!” exclaimed Becky. “Singing sync! That’s a good start”

          She returned to her research.

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1163

          Day of the Dead soon, Leo, might be a good day to go through that door” Bea said.

          “Well that’s the day that Baked Bean Barb is coming round with that book she found, Bea” replied Leonora.

          “She can come with us, the more the merrier eh! We could have a bit of a party you know, maybe have a bonfire on the top of the mound and then go through the door, might be fun.”

          “It’s all very well you saying we’ll just go through the door, Bea, but it’s not that easy.”

          “Why not?”

          “Because it isn’t a door, that’s why! It’s a pile of boulders blocking a cave entrance!”

          “All the more reason to invite lots of people to the party then! It will be a boulder moving out of the way of the door party, and when the door way is clear, we can all go through it. Aren’t you dying of curiosity to see what’s inside that mound?”

          “Yeah, I am. And we have to do it soon, because Jose will be back and then we’ll have to move. Might not be so easy then. Ok, let’s go for it. I’ll make a list who to invite.”

          “Some nice big strong strapping lads is what we need.”

          “No kidding”

          “To move the boulders, I meant” Bea said, rolling her eyes.

          in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1160
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            broadcasting seeds of absurdity in the cornfields and the meadows of the hay hoo down dooly…” Baked Bean Barb opened the book at random again and read a few lines. It was an odd book for sure, but strangely compelling. You never knew what you’d find on rubbish tips. Baked Bean Barb liked the sound of that, broadcasting seeds of absurdity.

            in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1159

            “You tempestuous fool” Becky cried and slapped Gayesh soundly across the face. “Don’t give me those unspoken looks!”

            Gayesh sighed. “Ah, the infinite pleasure I had in mind is naught but an elusive dream.”

            Elizabeth read the last two lines she’d been working on to her publisher, Godfrey Pig-Littleton.

            Godfrey snorted. “Elizabeth, really! You jest, I hope.”

            “Well, I was just trying to fit each of the four themes into one chapter, they all seemed to fit together so easily” Elizabeth replied. “Why not? Tempestuous, Elusive Dreams, Unspoken Looks, and Pleasure”

            “You seemed to have fit them all into two sentences, never mind a chapter. And your characters sound like characters in a play.”

            “Well they are characters in a play, Godfrey” replied Elizabeth.

            “Ham actors, that’s what I meant. Anyway, Liz” Pig-Littleton said with a slightly mischievous grin, “What if Gayesh doesn’t want his face slapped by Becky?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “What if Becky doesn’t want to slap Gayesh?”

            “Well, she will if I write it into the play, surely!” Elizabeth started to frown. She knew that once she invented her characters that they continued to exist in a reality of their own, being free to create their own realities in whatever probable dimension they found themselves in, but she had never really stopped to think about the ramifications of her continuing to write incidents into their lives.

            “Maybe Becky has moved on from where you left her last time you wrote about her, in a completely different direction” Godfrey continued “And maybe she doesn’t want to play along with your theme word game. I mean really, is it fair to make her? Maybe she was having more fun doing whatever it was she was doing while you weren’t even thinking about what she should do. Quite rude really to interrupt her just so that you could do your word theme games. Bit of a cheek, I’d say.”

            “Oh Godfrey, that’s easily explained” Elizabeth had remembered Probabilities, which was always a handy excuse in continuity disputes. “Another probable character will do what I write for them to do, there are probably hundreds of probable characters now, all going in different directions.”

            “Is that wise? Really Elizabeth, that sounds outrageously irresponsible. Hundreds of probable characters running amok, and you have absolutely no idea what they’re all getting up to.”

            “Well they’re not my responsibility Godfrey, for heavens sake!”

            “Well if they’re not your responsibility, then who’s responsible for them?”

            “Nobody is responsible for them!”

            “Well that sounds like a recipe for chaos if you ask me” Godfrey said with a sniff. “You’ve unleashed hundreds of probable Becky’s into reality, not to mention Leo’s and Bea’s….”

            “And Pig-Littleton’s” Elizabeth interjected under her breath.

            “… and Sanso’s and Dory’s” Godfrey, who hadn’t heard Elizabeth, continued to reel off the characters names. “I mean how big do you think reality is? The rate you’re filling it up with probable characters there’ll be no space left!”

            Elizabeth started to laugh. “Oh Godfrey, you’re a case. Ahahah! They don’t take up any space at all! Anyway, Godfrey” Elizabeth turned back to her notepad. “Listen to the latest chapter and tell me what you think:

            “You tempestuous fool” Becky cried and slapped Gayesh soundly across the face. “Don’t give me those unspoken looks!”

            Gayesh sighed. “Ah, the infinite pleasure I had in mind is naught but an elusive dream.”

            Godfrey Pig-Littleton was impressed. “Elizabeth, how perfectly you incorporated the four themes into one brilliantly short chapter”

            Elizabeth closed her notebook with a satisfied smile and yawned. Let them all do whatever the bloody hell they all want to, I’m off to bed. Plenty of probable characters available in the morning, waiting in the wings.

            in reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud #2029
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              A moment later she fell in the pool, slipping on some loose change. The part had been a free for all, and her host had alot to answer for. lots of drinks had been given to the grey goat and mavis didn’t give a shit. she meant during the days that followed to find salome, to be able to find some meaning to the story about leonora. It was a fine day for a plane ride she thought as she waited in line feeling excited until she noticed a red working lamp advertising love, but she never noticed how much easier it was during the news. The finn connection had her smiling as she thought to try creating calm and stay present and breathe as she looked around and noticed her arms were far from normal. suddenly shhe was walking away. the goat forgotten but wrick managed to save the library which was full of fresh air known only to sri who was to sort it all out although he laughed about the wood fire of the 19 planets and she was behind herself all the way

              (oops, said Bea, I forgot to indicate which of the words was from the word cloud and which were mine. Oh well, never mind….)

              in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1158
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Mademoiselle Mongoose was the Director of Public Relations at the Z.O.O. (short for Zoological Organization of Outcasts) which was no easy task. Her job entailed ensuring that the members remained Outcasts whilst endeavouring to foster an attitude of Acceptance from the general public. The dilemma was that oftentimes, once an Outcast was Accepted, he no longer qualified as an Outcast and according to the rules, was no longer eligible to remain at the Z.O.O.

                Mlle Mongoose couldn’t find the new Outcast anywhere. The enormous Anaconda, affectionately nicknamed Nana Croissant, was Absent Presumed Escaped Soft, which was one of Mlle Mongoose’s biggest headaches at the Z.O.O. There seemed to be a disproportionate number of A.P.E.S. at the Z.O.O.


                Mlle Mongoose sighed. If Nana Croissant couldn’t be located, Mlle Mongoose would have to report the disappearance to her superior, Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre. Thankfully the Z.O.O. also had a disproportionately high population of R.A.B.B.I.T.S. (Rare Intermediate ‘Best Bait In Town’ Stars), to cover for the erratic and unpredictable behaviour of the A.P.E.S., ensuring that there was plenty going on for the General Public at all times. (It may be noted by the S.W.A.N.S. ~ Sumafi Workers Affiliated Normal Society ~ that R.I.B.B.I.T.S. would be more technically accurate, however they were generally accepted as R.A.B.B.I.T.S. to Those In The Show ~ otherwise known as T.I.T.S.)

                Mlle Mongoose decided to enlist the help of the C.A.M.E.L.S. (Central Agency for Missing, Escaped & Lost Softs) before alerting Sir Raphael Cabra-Chevre.

                The Case of The Disappearing Aardvark was another matter, though. Mlle Mongoose decided to call in the M.E.E.R.C.A.T.S. (Missing Entities & Essences Roll Call and Time Share)

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1156

                “Hey, Leo, look at this here in the newspaper ~ my book’s being made into a movie!”

                “What book’s that then, Bea? Not that dreadful ‘T’eggy Gets a Good Rogering’, surely.” Leonora replied dismissively.

                “Oh they’re not calling it that for the movie…..”

                “Bloody good job if you ask me” Leo interrupted, and then exclaimed “OH!”

                “What?”

                “Book sync!”

                “Book sync? What book sync?”

                “I forgot to tell you, Baked Bean Barb called…”

                “Who?!”

                “You remember, we met her in that bar down on the coast awhile back, remember? We got talking over a few tapas ~ found we had some mutual friends back home and all…”

                “Funny how that happens, eh ~ small world, innit? So what did she call for then?”

                “Well, it’s the funniest thing, she said when she was rummaging around on the rubbish tip….”

                “Oh now I remember, you mean Baked Bean Barb! The one that’s lived in her Ford Fiesta for 15 years, and finds food in dustbins? That one? On the run, wasn’t she?”

                “That’s the one! On the run for 30 years because of that Baked Bean Incident that was in all the papers”

                “You meet all sorts down here, eh. So what did she call for?”

                “Well” continued Leonora “It’s the strangest thing! She said she found a book on the rubbish tip, which was in English, so she says she took the book ~ she reads alot you know, Barb does, even though she’s only got one eye. Dunno how she manages it really, her glasses are always so dirty…”

                “Will you get to the point?”

                “Hang on, hang on, I’m getting there….she found this book, right, so she goes back to wherever she’s camped up, you know, with the other travellers, all them old hippies on their way to Morocco for the winter I expect….”

                “We should go with them next winter Leo, might be fun”

                “I reckon it would Bea ~ well with Jose coming back soon from that island, we’ll have to go somewhere ~ anyway, as I was saying, Barb starts reading this book, she says it’s the most peculiar book she’s ever read, never read anything like it, she says, but she can’t put it down she says ~ well, you’ll never guess what!”

                “I can’t guess, Leo, I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

                “Barb says we’re in the book!”

                “What do you mean, we’re in the book?”

                “We’re in the book! ‘Leonora and Beattie’ are in the book! Renting a finca from a ‘Jose’ and living in the mountains in Andalucia!”

                “You’re having me on!” exclaimed Bea. “I’ve gotta see this to believe it.”

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1152

                Angela Wing was getting impatient. It had taken the fat white goose many months to reach a state of impatience, being such an accepting sort of creature, but really, she was wondering if she would ever have even so much as a walk in part in the Reality Play. Sure, she was a player behind the scenes, often appearing in the dreams of the players, but heck, a little bit of limelight would be nice occasionally.

                She preened her brilliant white feathers, thinking how well they would show up under the lights, as it were. It was all very well lurking in the shadows of the ill remembered dreams all the time, but Angela felt the time was ripe for more exposure.

                :fleuron:

                Becky yawned. Where on earth did that come from? she wondered, as she tried to rouse herself from her long nap. I wasn’t even dreaming about Angela Wing! All I can remember dreaming about is a book cover, something to do with eights…

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1147

                :multimedia:
                “Norm! NORM!!” Sue Flay shouted. “We’re filming the garden scene now, where are you?”

                But Norm was nowhere to be found. He’d stumbled upon an unexpected problem while filming T’Eggy & Phlynn with Sue Flay ~ a problem too embarrassing to mention, and one he could hardly keep a secret, given the nature of the P Movie. He’d managed to excuse himself during the last scene, feigning illness, but what if it happened again today?

                “You’re focusing on what you don’t want again, Norm.” The voice made him jump. He’d thought he was alone in the treehouse, he thought no-one would find him hiding there in the leafy depths of the spinney, high up in the foliage. He looked around, wondering where the voice was coming from.

                “You haven’t generated me physical, Norm, but you can if you wish” the voice said.

                “How do I do that?” asked Norm.

                “Allow, that’s all” the voice replied.

                “Oh what rubbish!” Norm said in an agitated whisper. “What stupid advice!”

                “Ha ha ha! As you wish, my friend” replied the voice, sounding rather amused.

                “If you hadn’t just given me such stupid advice I might have felt more inclined to ask you for some advice about this awful problem” Norm whispered crossly.

                “Are you asking me for advice or not?”

                “Well if you’ve got anything USEFUL to say, then say it!”

                “If you go down to the garden today,
                You’re sure to have a surprise.
                There’s a herb growing there and you don’t have to pay,
                It’s growing in front of your eyes.
                The magic you see is everywhere
                It never runs out of stock
                Go down to the garden, if you dare….”

                “I asked you for advice, not a daft bloody poem!” Norm hissed.

                “You wish to be hard as a rock?”

                YES!” spat Norm in frustration, blushing furiously. What’s the friggen garden got to do with it?”

                “There’s a herb in the garden called Horny Goat

                “Oh PulEASE…..” Norm rolled his eyes.

                “Horny Goat Weed will do the trick.
                And straighten up your droopy…”

                ENOUGH! Good Grief, I get the message. What am I supposed to DO with it, roll in it? Eat it? Smoke it?”

                “It matters not, my friend. That’s the magic of it all. You can choose any method”

                “Are you sure about this?” asked Norm, who was willing to try anything at this point. “How do I know I can trust you?”

                “Ha ha ha! Trust youSELF, Norm!”

                “Who are you anyway?” Norm asked suspiciously.

                But the voice chuckled and faded, leaving Norm in a quandary in the treehouse.

                “Oh bugger it, I may as well give it a go. I can’t stay here forever, and anyway, I’ve run out of cigarettes.”

                Norm climbed down the tree and marched over to the the film crew.

                “Oh THERE you are Norm!” Sue came rushing up to him. “What perfect timing, we’re breaking for lunch.” She gave Norm a spontaneous hug. She really was rather nice, Norm thought, smiling at her.

                “Would you like some soup? We put lots of fresh herbs in it from the garden.”

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1146

                “Oh My God” exclaimed Bea. “I had a dream about the DOOR!”

                “Oh, well done! The question is, did you remember it?” asked Leonora.

                “As a matter of fact, Leo, I did!” replied Bea with a happy smile. “As a matter of fact, although I’m not too sure how factual matter really is, but anyway, I did remember the dream, and I wrote it all down.”

                “Gosh, up early this morning, weren’t you?” asked Leo, who was sipping coffee at the kitchen table and watching the sun come up over the mountains through the open door.

                “Oh I didn’t write it down this morning, silly! I wrote it all down last week.”

                Leo placed her cup on the table and rubbed her eyes, frowning. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight…..”

                Bea laughed ~ she was in rather a jolly mood, despite the early hour. “I had the dream last week, Leo, but I only just realized this morning that the dream was about THE DOOR

                “So what did you learn about the door, then?”

                Bea frowned. “Well I’m not really sure. But it seemed so significant because it was that scary door, you know, the dreams I’ve been having for years about that door in that bedroom that’s too scary to get near, never mind go through….would you like to read it? Maybe you can interpret it for me.”

                “If I must” sighed Leonora “You better pour me another cup of coffee then and pass me those cigarettes.”

                Leonora read from Bea’s Dream Journal:

                I was sorting winter clothes out on an upstairs landing of a cottagey gabled house,
                and decided to use the upstairs bedroom instead of the downstairs one.
                The bedroom was a recurring dream one, gabled attic with dormer windows kind of room.
                Then I saw the door and remembered this was the door I was always too terrified
                in dreams to open; it was so scary that I always wanted to use this bedroom
                but never could because of that terrifying door and whatever lay beyond it.

                “Didn’t you do a waking dream and go through that door?” Leonora asked. “Oh, yes here is is…”

                Remembering that I had done a waking dream and gone beyond the door once,
                I marched up to the door, flung it open and strode through.
                Suddenly an almost overpowering fear and dread stopped me in my tracks
                but I carried on anyway.

                “Oh, bloody well done, Bea! Good for you, girl!” Leonora could be a bit waspish at times, but she was a kind old soul underneath.

                 It was a bit like a old slightly shabby but once grand hotel foyer, high ceilings
                (not the same as when I went through in the waking dream, which was then rows
                of closed doors on either side).  The foyer opened out on the left into a large old
                fashioned restaurant dining room, with one person over on the far side sitting at
                a table.  I carried on straight ahead through opaque etched glass double doors
                onto an upstairs outdoor terrace.  There was a city scene below.  On the left
                was a shallow ornately shaped ornamental pool.

                “Reminds me a bit of our trip to Barcelona, this does, eh” Leo commented.

                “Yeah, I’m sure that had something to do with the gargoyle imagery” replied Bea.

                A woman squeezed past me holding a small thick book and I knew she was
                going to jump off the terrace which was several storeys up.  She collapsed into
                the pool, writhing backwards, baring a flat white breast and dropping the book.

                “Flat breast, hahah Bea, that weren’t you then, obviously, was it!”

                Bea chuckled. “Not bloody likely! I reckon that bit slipped in the dream because I can’t find a comfortable bra lately”

                “You and me both” replied Leo. She continued reading from the journal.

                I picked up the book, and somehow ended up with two books, which seemed like guide books. I couldn’t hold onto the two books with the creature in my hand, which was weird, like a very heavy small furry grey reptile, or gargoyle.

                “Maybe it was a baby dragon?”

                “Don’t say that!” retorted Bea, who had a horror of dragons. “The thought did cross my mind too, though” she admitted.

                I was holding it with one hand round its middle and the fat grey belly of it
                was bulging out under my fingers.  It was unbelievably heavy for such a small creature
                and I didn't want to hold it, so I passed it to a boy. (Twice I was holding the creature,
                and twice I passed it to the boy, but I can't recall the other time)
                Back inside the building, I followed the boy down a big wide staircase that
                curved round to the right at a landing below.  I started to fall down the stairs and
                knew it was because of the book that I was holding that the woman had been holding
                when she collapsed into the pool, so I threw the book down the stairs to save myself,
                and felt the tumbling down from the books perspective, although I stayed in
                the same place, clutching the banister.

                “Well I am amazed that you remembered so much, Bea! Going through the doors and finding the books reminds me of Jane’s Library you know”. Leo was starting to go into an altered state.

                “Are you going into an altered state, Leo?” asked Bea. “Are you channeling Juani Ramirez again?”

                “The creature, the gargoyle, was representing ‘a different species of awareness, of consciousness’” continued Leonora, as Bea hastily started taking notes. Leo wouldn’t remember what she’d said while she was channeling Juani, so it was essential that Bea record what was said.

                “The weight was a marker to help you recall the creature, as well as being symbolic of denseness”

                Bea couldn’t help making a snirking noise. Dense eh, she said under her breath.

                “The door” continued Leonora “Is a signpost, a marker.”

                Just then the phone rang, snapping Leonora out of the trance. Bea picked up the telephone, but there was nobody there.

                “Pffft” said Bea.

                “More coffee?”

                in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1145

                “Listen to this, Bea” Leonora said.

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

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

                “What on earth are you reading, Leo?”

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

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

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

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

                in reply to: Pictures Pool #1329
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                  in reply to: Snooteries #2136
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                    in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1144
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                      Chuckling to herself about Sam’s latest entry (which was another splendid synchronicity with the daily random quote: “Just as Becky was retorting crossly to Al to please knock before remote viewing her…”) Becky Tooh went outside into the sunshine to hang out the laundry. Blinking in the strong sunlight she reached up to peg a towel on the line and noticed two huge eagles circling above her. I swear they are looking right at me, she said. She watched them circling until her eyes could stand the glare of the sun no longer, then turned back to the laundry basket.

                      Oh will you look at that! she said crossly. Bird pooh all over the washing!

                      in reply to: Circle of Eights, Stories #1142

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

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

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

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

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

                      Leonora rolled her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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