Blinding Blue Light's Blurty

Subject:	Red Pill
Time:	7:38 am.

Peter Moon. Well I think it was Peter Moon.

I was in my bedroom, standing by my bed. For some reason he called me, but instead of my cellphone I picked up an old landline receiver.

He was very confused as to why he had called. The color of the conversation was dark blue/grey.

At first I tried to discuss MILAB things, but he hedged away from the topic. He tried changing it, but it was as though he couldn't formulate a sentence. Being as I was taking him to be a famous editor (for some reason), I finally guided him to talk to me about my comic book.

"Tell me about your stories," he finally asked as if having a Eureka moment - this is what I'm supposed to be talking about.

So I did.

There was also a Matrix rip-off dream: something to feed the desires of everyone about being the One and found. I in a city street: them in their black cloaks literally stepping out of light poles. Getting chased by reptiles that came out of the concrete.

It turned into a cartoon movie which made me want to cry. Old hobos wiping mirrors to see the story that was told play in them. I've been working with a lot of hobos lately.

There was also a moment when I knew I was laying in bed and a series of tones was being played. It reminded me of the beginning to Firefly by Owl City. Then a thought was put into my mind by a low male voice. It was a mode of thinking to turn around something I was already pondering. I knew it for what it was and that shattered the "dream".

Fishbowl had a summit the other day. Yes, I did attend... it's the only real activity we've had in a while. Since I've managed to make contact with some people in the proper way *and* another demand of mine (meeting some in person with my "court') may be answered in a few days.... I shall reopen Council and stop doing everything by myself.

See, they're mortals here too. They also hate being left out I guess.

Comments: Add Your Own.

Subject:	Lucidity At Last
Time:	12:00 am.

I did it. I finally did it.

Two nights ago when they came for me and played the music in my ear, they got a sweet surprise.

The music was played in my right ear as I lay on my left side alone in bed. The notes were high tin tones, and as they played I thought to myself, "I know that song... it's... Disney.... Oh! It's ----" and now I can't remember which song. Wish I could. I also thought that I was always fond of that song.

Much like being awakened to an alarm clock and as part of a regular routine, I got out of bed. I knew I was being picked up that night, so instead of sleeping in the nude I wore a purple nightgown. I walked to the door to my bedroom where I was met by two men.

They were in uniform. It was almost like dress uniform, but not quite. There were a few decorations on their jackets, but they weren't quite military medals or anything. And even though I was aware and lucid, I was perceiving their faces as...

... rotting flesh burned zombie faces. Not a lot of their face. Just a patch or two.

I blinked when I realized I was seeing them as zombies and refocused my eyes. (I hate zombies.)

One of them leaned forward to look into my eyes better. "Wait," he said. "You're aware!" He said this almost accusingly.

I snapped, "Of course I'm aware! And furthermore, I can walk my own damn self to the door. I'm here, I'm willing to go. Let's get to it."

The second fellow took out ... a needle? I'm not sure. He stepped behind me to my right. I said authoritatively, "Don't you DARE do anything to change or stop it! I said I'm working with you, and that I can walk myself out. Now let's go!"

Blackness. So maybe they did something after all.

But I finally did it, damn it. I was a whole person, and I WAS AWARE!

After that there was a train, and I was inside the passenger coach with 6 people or so. They were government officials.I'm not sure why I was there The scenario we were playing out was the fall of government. I remember one was a tall woman in a fancy dress.

The rebels walked into the room. I said, "Oh. Time for me to go. They've come for me." But my heart wasn't really in acting out the part.

One rebel said my name, and I followed them out and into a car that was parked by the side of the train. But somehow that train was supposed to be going down the tracks fast, see? (It wasn't.) And the car was too. (It wasn't.)

I sat... I think in the middle back seat. One rebel took out something like a tommy gun and shot down the government officials. They fell dead to the floor although the weapon was silent. And I thought, "Wasn't me, so I don't care."

Woke up 3 or 3:30 am as usual. My daughter walked down the hall to go to the bathroom like someone who also had just woke up. This threw me into doubt as to whether or not it really happened or was it really a dream.

But that song: it was real. If nothing else.

Also:

Mr. Graff,

I was so upset when I spoke with you the other day I forgot to tell you about something else I saw. Of course it's too late to turn it around. When I saw that the Pentagon had released the intelligence regarding Al Qaida being at it's weakest (confirming another vision I'd told my husband), I knew the operation had begun on schedule. And now I look at those mountains and they're muddy and dark dark red.

A few weeks ago - I'm not sure when because I didn't record it the way I try to remember to do - I was talking to my husband and getting angry. Next I knew I was watching a man sit down at a table. He wore robes. I knew he was telling the Taliban our plans, and he was meeting in a room with another man to hear what was next. I was surprised that his under robe was made of that fake denim cotton material pattern. One just doesn't' picture a Muslim in fake denim, you know. But he was proud of his denim pattern. He preferred it It was dark and blue and he liked it.

He's groomed, like he was groomed in the states somehow or maybe he's a half-breed. He bathes more than the Taliban. That also surprised me. So maybe he blends in well or something. He isn't like a prince: just someone a touch fastidious.

Now of course so much of what I saw makes perfect sense. The Taliban were feeling urgent because they'd been tipped off last weekend was coming. They were laying their plans and preparing because they knew. They knew the location, they knew from which direction, and they even had a sense of how many.

The reason why they never attacked my husband's FOB until just before the operation was because they were waiting. I thought they were waiting for their fellows, but that was only part of it. They were still preparing. I couldn't figure out how, but I knew it had something to do with the earth.

I could have perhaps made a difference if only I'd tried to find someone sooner. If not you: someone. So I'll tell someone besides my friends and husband again. Maybe it will help. But I doubt it. A friend once told me that I would die the prophet who was never heard. So.

Today while talking to a friend about the informant (she remembered when I found him so we were talking about him) I "flew over" automatically again. It was brief. It was faint. It happened when I said, "I just don't know how to turn this situation around - no wait." And I did.

Their backsides are cooled by the wind.

I shouldn't bother you with this again, and I know you're busy. But I know also that people are dying or are about to die. I don't know why but I keep thinking of the piano cord death method in the beginning of Ghost Ship. But with a claw on the string.

If your friend was able to take my last vision and use it, perhaps this one will help as well. My sights are getting dimmer and dimmer, which could mean any number of things. They might get stronger when my husband returns to that hellhole after leave. Who knows. He's no longer being agitated by his jerk first sergeant (transferred again). When he's not agitated, I tend to not be agitated. We're tandem like that.

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Subject:	Time Sensitive Documents
Time:	5:49 pm.

The beginning is sketchy, but I was being told what was going on much like in a briefing I suspect. But because I wasn't sitting at a table being briefed but asleep, as I was told various information my mind supplied images.

There were old military trucks. They weren't brown, but they weren't quite army green. They were also covered in dust because they had been in country a long time. They weren't traveling in convoys; they would go one at a time originating from the lower middle area of Afghanistan towards the border of Pakistan. One at a time, they'd travel with the dust around their wheels and the sun in the sky carrying...

chrome pretzels.

Yes I KNOW that's weird. Hold your horses... like I said: symbolic.

So yes. Chrome pretzels. And I was told that these were some sort of probe, but the teller couldn't quite comprehend the technology and I could only perceive them as shiny brand-new metallic pretzel shaped things piled in the covered backs of these old trucks. The trucks were definitely older models, by the way. And the pretzels were being brought to the border region like this and set up along the mountains. They were being done so "right now".

A parked truck that had been carrying the probes was sitting in the barren place it was left. (These trucks were never on base, but always in open areas or away from people.) I was standing in front of it. A vine was growing out of the engine. It had crawled its way down around the CVC joint and shaft of the passenger side front wheel of the truck and was crawling up the truck. It's important to note that it was only about 2 feet long (the part that was visible) so far. Later when telling the dream to someone, they mentioned grape vines and I remembered that the vine had three whole triangular-shaped leaves.

The narrator said, "This is a side effect of the objects being brought here."

I can't remember if there was anything else about that before my mind centered on the pretzels again. I have an alternate self who rarely speaks to me. She said, "You are perceiving them wrong. Instead, perceive them as forks."

And so the trucks were filled with shiny chrome forks.

And so I woke up at 3 am. I tried not to, but there was no choice in the matter.

The meaning I have gathered:

The trucks were Taliban trucks. They use old equipment, some from even back in WWII. Our vehicles would have been newer models, and they would have traveled in something else besides 2 men in a lonely truck. There would have been a guard or a convoy. Well, there would definitely have been more than 2.
The pretzels are some sort of equipment to be able to sense what's going on. The pretzel shape could mean their maker's origin or just how they work, or even that they look like pretzels.
The chrome means they're brand-new.
Their point of origin is where they're being shipped out from to get to where they're going.
The area they're going to is near where my husband is stationed. (And where my conglom has also been stationed.)
The vine is a grape vine. It was explained to me today that certain motion sensitive equipment and other probe like devices such as these can be networked together to share information - like a vine.
When "SHE" said to see them as forks... punster that she is... she was saying we are "forked". I'm actualyl quite fond of that particular pun.

... I've tried all day to figure out how to get the message about this to the right people. If this vision is interpreted correctly, there are going to be a lot of soldiers dead in the most nasty of ways.

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Subject:	Run Trina Run
Time:	8:45 am.

It was a rough night last night. Between finding out that my husband is being sent to bad areas on a drop mission in a few days to watching friends leave me behind, it's just been harsh. The husband told me that he doesn't believe some of what I tell him last night. That cut him out of being able to talk to. And the friends just... can't be talked to anymore. I am alone.

So, dream journal, you are the only person I can talk to about last night now. About how I woke up at the usual early morning/late night time thinking it was time to get up only to be surprised it was still dark outside. How the impressions of people talking and a building and hallways were still with me, and fading quickly, and I realized, "Oh. I was picked up last night."

How I went back to sleep only to have a nightmare about being in one of the clinical buildings with my cats - three of which are dead - and locking myself into my room for privacy only to hear the cats be killed horribly outside. And when I went to unlock the door to go to them, the screaming stopped suddenly. And of course that woke me up.

And laying there unable to go back to sleep, events from the night filtered in. Dreams? Not? I don't know. I guess I'll never know.

The only thing I can make clear in my mind is that at some point I stood there facing my 15 year old self. I knew it was my younger self. She looked at me. I looked at her. We were in a dark gray hall.

She turned and ran. I chased and caught her saying gruffly, "No you don't. You're staying here."

Because it was my job to train my own self I guess.

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Subject:	Suffer in silence
Time:	10:02 pm.

A couple of nights ago as I started to fall asleep, my soul flew to my husband where he sat. I saw the white or light gray of the table and his stance. I put my face to his cheek, and my nose touched him. I felt it, and this startled me back into being. I spoke to him a few hours later, and he confirmed what I saw. Dang it.

Last night was another of "those" dreams, and it worries me. It frightens me.

I reached out twice today to the one person who might have had an immediately answer, but he was too busy.

Two dreams, actually. It began with the attack of the toys: they were stuffed animals. "Demons" I called them. They came into the house to take me away, and somehow I fended them up and kept saying no. So they amassed enforce by the hundreds into a big dump truck going to pour into my home. I ran out of the house and jumped into someone's truck to ride away to safety. The memory of that is sketchy.

In the second dream I knew I'd escaped the bears. I was in an old abandoned school, I thought, although there were no walls and the place was black and almost lightless. There was a man there: a business men of the organization who decided that I needed to be killed and removed from the group. But I was with a man, who I knew but didn't know the name to that looked like a cartoon version of my friend Barry Gaunt. This dream was cast as a Bugs Bunny dream.

I was Bugs Bunny, and I would stand outside the body sometimes and look at him. But everyone there referred to him as "she" because I was privy to their conversations about me when I stepped outside. I just don't remember the conversations.

"Barry" told the guy that if I learned to write a sentence, would I be allowed to live. He then decided this and decided I was going to learn to write a sentence - because apparently I was unable to write coherently.

He tried many times and wrote in chalk on a wall/chalkboard various words that made no sense. At this time I began to perceive my environment more. I knew I was surrounded by backhoes and other equipment, that we were in a quarry type environment. But we were also in the school, and the old wall "Barry" wrote on with chalk was also the chalkboard. And although the words were in black, the chalk was white. The wall was white, which was why I could see it in the dark so well. I took this for granted.

He finally told me, "Alright, we'll go with 'He is black and white'. That's the best I can do."

The audience laughed. I stood there wondering why this was funny.

The other man was in a lower part of the hole: a dug out wide hole. He sat in a rusty backhoe. "Barry" told him we had the sentence, got into another backhoe, and used the bucket to smash the first man to death. I cheered and clapped like one does when the villain in a movie gets his own.

.... And then I woke up very early. Before my alarm.

So. The dream had chalk to write with, and a death sentence for me. And layers of one side of me perceiving the intended environment and the other perceiving what was really there. And you'd not think anything of it except that in the bedroom today appeared a soft piece of slightly-burned wood about 6" long... that was dull on the end as if written with, and it wrote on my wall as softly and easily as chalk on a chalkboard.

If I continue to reach out - as I used to do years ago - I will be called a drama queen. Anyway, it might just be my imagination. I guess.

The other times I was insistent that there would be a problem, I was correct. But one person's life isn't important when compared to convenience and social comfort. So I will suffer in silence, hoping I'm setting myself up a personal fantasy, and ignore the panic attack in my chest. At least for a little while.

It's all anyone can do under the circumstances.

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Time:

7:00 am.

In the real world, my husband has deployed. In the dream world..

I wept.

The soldiers were all around, going to the planes and being shipped out. I was one of them, yet I was not one of them. My role there changed from moment to moment.

There was stuff everywhere: boxes, cars, apartment-sized refrigerators, couches, etc.

Many soldiers had cars they were selling; they'd bought them for 500 and tried to sell them for 200. It was mentioned by someone that at the gates, they'd go as low as 20 just to get rid of the things.

It was time for me to "go to work". My husband was there. I got something to eat from a little area near the gates and sat down with Romig (guy in Lhung's unit) and my husband. I wanted a drink, and I told my husband this. He told me there wasn't enough time.

I sat there looking down at my food on top of the little round table, and I began to cry. I could feel the grief welling through me like a deep damp well. My husband, who was sitting across this little round table to the right of me, just sat there as I cried. I had expected him to get my drink for me, like he does in the waking world. When he didn't, my heart broke again.

I got up after a while and walked away. I saw a digital clock. It said just after 6 in the morning. I thought to myself that I had been lied to. There had been plenty of time for me to have something to drink.

When I woke up, I could only remember that my husband had not followed me when I walked away. His heart, like his body, felt so very far away from me.

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Subject:	Earth
Time:	9:08 pm.

This post has been backdated. I have been derelict in updating and can't remember the exact date; only that I was having the dream at the same hour the volcano in Iceland began to erupt.

"Millions of tons of ash from a volcano in Iceland that have grounded planes across Europe is traveling towards North America, government officials report."

I was a little girl, visiting the mountains of a foreign land. I had found a boy about the same age as I was to play with. I think we were anywhere from 8 to 10 or so.

He was a dark little boy in warm clothing - but Russian or Eskimo type clothing. I know I had a warm cap on, and mittens, but I can't tell you what I was wearing exactly. I can tell you what we were doing, though.

We were in a tight, rocky mountain region playing in the snow. There was a place where the rocks and snow made a short little toboggan type slide. We were taking turns sliding down it. The boy had just taught me this game. We really considered ourselves tobogganing for real, too.

The earth started to shake. The boy stopped playing, suddenly alert. Then he threw himself against a rock with his back to it, looking out. "An avalanche is coming!" he said.

I didn't make much of a move to protect myself - naive of situations like that as I was. I kept looking around for this mysterious wall of snow. That was how I noticed that the snow wasn't rolling. It was bouncing up and down around us.

I realized it was an earthquake.

... and then I woke up and found out about the volcano. Weird.

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Subject:	Shattering
Time:	8:37 pm.
Mood:	confused.

I threw the cup. It started the Agenda and announced the end of the world.

I threw the cup because no one else would, and I - I had been proclaimed second hand to the President (whomever he was at the time). I threw it because I was ordered, and for some reason I was afraid for my life.

As I threw it I wondered if we would all be required to wear the Number of the Beast. I trembled and wondered how I could keep from getting it. Was there a way to keep me safe?

When I threw it, it shattered into the fireplace like so much Norse legend.

The cabinet of twelve men and women were not willing to do this deed, and so a few minutes later they mysteriously fell over dead.

I knew I had initiated the end of the world.

The two princes returned to my dream world after so many years.

The one, my husband in real life, was my love and my devotion. I knew it was he, and I knew I preferred him.

The other was the one the Agenda had originally planned for me, and those in power were displeased that I had spurned their choice and married my first prince. They planned to kill him, or something, in order to separate us. They wanted me with the correct choice.

I grieved in silence. I smiled and communicated and fretted inside. I wanted my prince, the one I have now. The one who makes me glow. I did not want the other, dark-haired young man who sat waiting in the car. His face was forward and he did not move. He just sat there. But my husband, now... he communicated with me. And he was real.

These were the steps after I broke the cup.

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Subject:	The end of the world... for some of us
Time:	10:06 pm.

In the first half of my night, I went to what I can only call the "UFO airport". I remember the lines, the passport lane, the people who were coming and going; the overall "department of driver license" feel of the place. I even remember the speckled brown tiles.

But I can't remember why I was there. It was something about a final decision and a conference; something I had to go in person for. But the thing I've been pushing for: people coming all the way, the revealing of aliens amongst us, the total lucidity, the entire page, had finally been approved. The meeting was over.

I was standing in line waiting to come to the woman who was handling ID's and such not, waiting to go home.

There was a guy standing behind me. He was much taller than I am. The feeling of having such and individual beside me made me feel small, like a 4 foot tall person. He had very dark hair and wore a business suit. He held a soft briefcase over one shoulder casually.

Somehow the final decision was brought up in discussion. It's like everyone was talking about it... and how it would reveal the presence of so many non-Earth types below.

I said to the guy, "Well you know... we're everywhere." And I smiled, because he had been taking me as a total Earther the entire time and I knew it.

He jerked back, startled, and I got a thrill of danger. I'm not sure why I got such a thrill. I just did.

For some reason this causes enough concern that I had to go to this dark office where a higher-up official sat. The desk was huge, the office was huge, the windows overlooked the land in a huge way. I can't remember if I was taken away or simply went because that's where I was going in the first place.

He expressed concern over what the change was going to mean; that the Earth countries and governments were going to lose their sovereignty in lieu of a space power.

I said to him, "We (meaning, we as the sentients who live on the planet) will always be in control of someone. If you're worried about corruption or abuse of power, then look at who is running the show now. It doesn't matter in the end to us who is running things because essentially things will not change." As I said this I was thinking about how the stars would be open to use finally, and I realized that this would actually give us a greater avenue of freedom....

... because it will be harder to track and ID us in such a wide space. I said something about that, too, but I wasn't clear on purpose. I didn't want him to know what I was thinking.

And from here I know it was a real dream, but... one of those message dreams I get from time to time.

In the beginning I found a Jesus phamplet.

The prison camps that the conspiracy experts have been worried about in the past several years were finally opened... and the people they rounded up were different people like me: past-lifers, mostly. I don't know if there were other types or not.

I was rounded up as the "Sephiroth archetype" - and I don't mean that this is what they called me. It was my personal term for what they called me. I do not know what they called me.

I can't remember much of it. I mostly have fragments of memory of when the prison guards teased me, telling me how many others in that holding remembered the crimes I had committed so long ago and how they *still* held grudges against me.

We each of us had an assigned psychiatrist type individual. I don't know if he really was a shrink, mind you. That's the type of role he played.

I went to an appointment with mine - also a dark man in an office but this time the office was small - and he had on his desk a 3" black ring binder so full of sheets it could hardly be opened and read. This was my file; the information on my past lives and all the things I had done in this one. Things that were speculated about me. The works.

I knew this. I also knew as he talked to me and handled the file that there was one for everyone in the compound and for others still on the outside.

I also knew that when they were done with me, they would gas me. I had no fear of this.

Another time I was outside in the little barren courtyard we were allowed to go out in once in a while. This is where I stepped outside to watch who it was I was playing. Or who was playing me - that part has never been very clear.

He was a man in his thirties with long white hair. He wore a Chinese type white outfit: the prison uniform y'know.

He had found Jesus because of that pamphlet and his predicament... and he was slightly off his rocker I suspect. He would collect the silver foil-type gum and candy wrappers, write proverbs and bits of the Bible on them with an old felt-tip pen, and then lick them. He called them the "licked papers" - and there was a pun to this I remember thinking that alluded to the trials and tribulations of Jesus but I can't remember it now.

There was another person in the courtyard with him; a younger man. "Sephiroth" was licking his papers and writing. He handed a written one and a blank one to the guy and said, "You like licking papers, so you can lick them too."

While this was happening I was confused. I asked myself what the hell was going on - why was he so calm when he was supposed to be the personification of the old me? Had his faith really helped him that much and why didn't that make sense?? I couldn't understand the meaning of the papers and overall... I was confused.

After that he was taken to the psychiatrist again. They did something to trigger out the old persona and he changed: red eyes, crazy face... for some reason it reminded me of Shesshomouru from Inuyasha.

With that enforced change where he became a little dangerous, they took him by the arms and he CALMLY ALLOWED them to take him to the gas chambers.

I merged with him again.

Down in the gas chamber there were two other men strapped to examination tables. They glared at me, and the prison guard gloatingly told me that these two guys in particular wanted to see me dead and had arranged this.

As with other execution rooms in real life, there were the windows for people to watch. But I could see through them... and the rooms were filled with all of my inmates.

But I didn't die. They walked me straight through to a room in the back, where I had a conversation with someone... but I cant' remember about what.

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Subject:	Picture
Time:	6:08 pm.

I was visited last night.

The back history here is that I haven't been going to the Fishbowl in a while. To be quite frank about it, I've been feeling very disheartened about a lot more than frogs in boiling water lately. The overall state of affairs that I see and frequently experience has become disheartening, and I guess you could say I've begun to lose my faith. The overall result is a tendency to desire outright mundanity and to lose the 95% of myself that makes me a living breathing person to begin with. I've been seriously considering just flat... I dunno... going stupid I guess you could call it, which part of me acknowledges is an utter impossibility but there are times I'd like to try. I was born breathing "the mists of ambiance energy" and literally could not be removed from it without just dying. But day-um people.

But upon review, what reason have I to continue dealing with a Council on High the way they handle matters with us mere mundanes below? Yes, I am aware that there are times they simply cannot explain. There are times that you just have to trust them, and there are dozens and hundreds of dozens of simple events in my life that speak loudly for "be patient, you padawan." But there is this other issue, this all-important other issue, that I've been getting dodged about.

They have given me excuses, which means that there is no reason to be patient. They've even lied. They've placated in order to get me to wait, and then wait some more. I've been patient about it because of the other dozens of examples, and the fulfilled promises, and related factors. Patient and patient while being told I had final command.

They haven't done anything wrong. They've done their jobs, and they've done it superbly.

But then we get to those who work with them that are also, like myself, aware.

Contact them and I am ignored Reach out to them and I am directed to fluff fluff e-mail lists filled with propaganda and bullshit. Seek to build the physical bridges that are so very needed and required for our final jobs here and I am met with a wall of ego or paranoia, take your pick.

So maybe I'm lonely, or maybe I feel more than ever I've been shouting unheard in a very large crowd. Either way this suxors.

Nothing is getting done, and we the Council on High are our own worst enemy.

Or something like that.

Other things have begun to happen in the real world, and I've had to look at once again putting major factors of my role and duty on hold to somehow find a paying job and protect house and home. Mind you, without those things I'll begin to whither. I literally cannot live without them, and I cannot deal with pushing them down. Hooray being an innate and full-fledged shamanistic type. But anyway.

All I've heard from on High for years is that the quest would begin to pay for itself, and that the needed things would come to me. Ha, once again I'm not seeing it. I feel that whomever is in charge of finance is a total idiot on some days.

So I threw up my hands, and I literally walked away.

For days I've been hearing here and there to come back. I've been pushed and prodded, given signals and signs. I've ignored them all.

Talking to the Other Half last night on the phone, I did casually mention that part of my sorrow was the loss of doing comic books. This story that I tell I used to try to tell to all of the 'kin over ten years ago, and I was often pushed aside because no one wanted to hear it. But it's an important story, truly it is. Okay fine, so I'm in it. So are a lot of other people, and the telling of this story is important for them. And somehow I feel it's important for the world, so I have found a good way to tell it that doesn't have people telling me to shaddup. =^-^= I'm doing my JOB and I'm doing it RIGHT and dammit all to hell.....

I'm often approached by representatives, angry council members, frustrated secretaries, etc. when I'm laying down to sleep or am already sleeping. Each have their own way of approaching. Some walk straight up and go right into screaming at me. Others approach timidly and wait for me to notice them. But overall unless they're part of my personal Seven, they stand a certain amount away from my feet and keep that special distance.

Last night as I lay on my bed - I wasn't sleeping very well because the air mattress isn't keeping air so well anymore - in that alpha state the Fishbowl treasures so much I was approached by a thin blond young man. He was probably in his twenties with short hair. He wore a green t-shirt.

This one walked right up to me and sat right down next to me. He began speaking very quickly, as if he didn't have much time or maybe he was afraid I was going to tell him to go the fuck away. =^-^= Either way, his tone was on purpose set in a hopeful and positive manner and he was telling me something about the comic book... something about... a plan I guess. I can't remember the discussion at all.

But I did wake up remembering some things on it I had to do.

And that's what happened recently.

Hope you enjoyed the tale.

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Subject:	Rothschild
Time:	12:43 pm.
Mood:	cold.

Damn, this dream wasn't as good as it was supposed to feel and there's no one to share it with. One person is in bootcamp and the other two are stuck up their boyfriends' asses. -_-

I knew (even though nothing around me looked like it) that this happened after the next fall of mankind. Mankind had been divided into two factions: my side and the other side. That's what I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. I lived on the island where there were other people, working cellphones, and other amenities that suggested my knowledge was in error. But I took such things for granted.

Even though if you went beyond a certain zone in this world I was in, the cellphones and other such things would not work.

There was an entire regiment of men who had come from another time, but they were all criminals. I remember stepping into someone else's head and going to them. They were sitting in rows, forced to sit that way, as they were guarded by giant robot looking men. Maybe men in suits of armor. Who can say.

I asked to speak to the leader. The leader was a midget. I told them that I wanted to come to some sort of agreement with them that if they served I could get them more freedoms, but I had not spoken with the leader yet. I was only seeing what they could do at this stage and was making no promises.

But... for some reason this was cut short and I can't remember how or why.

I was no one higher up in this scenario, but I did have a team. I cannot remember who led the team or if I led the team or even if we had got together accidentally. We had a mission. We stole something of value, but now I cannot remember what it was. Or how we got it. I have vague impressions of a boat and that the item of value was of historical importance somehow. And it was not hard to steal it, either, because no one was expecting us to go for it. We just walked right in and got it, wherever it was.

After we had the item, we went to the main place. I cannot tell you much about it. It's all vague, because it feels like this dream went on for a very very long time - not for days but certainly for 12 hours at least. The sun was up when we stole the artifact and the skies were very blue. I cannot tell you the time of day when we went to the building, because obviously we were in a building.

We were ushered into a large room; I and the head of another team. I was starting to come out of it, I guess you could say, at this point. I was suddenly noticing that things weren't right even though I had taken everything for granted before. The others who came in with me sat down to wait, but I wondered if I could run out the door and escape. I started to stand up to see, but I heard the door lock.

We were inside awaiting our audience with the big man whose name nor title I did not know. There was a little girl there who also was waiting. Maybe she was 6 or 7. You could tell she was going to be a dainty person, so she might even have been 8. She was a beautiful child. Her hair was long, like mine, but she was White so it was blond. There were curls around her face that were almost white, which only gave her an angelic appeal. Her skin was very pale and had a slight pink tinge to it. I cannot tell you the color of her eyes, but the shape of her face was heart shaped with a little button-like nose.

She fainted suddenly, and a woman in a lab coat caught her. She was carried out of the large room we waiting in and laid down on, of all things, a bunch of boxes and equipment as if she were an after thought and would be collected later. The woman, who I vaguely thought was the child's mother even though she was dark and they looked nothing like each other, put an ear bud from an MP3 player into the child's ear and then turned to walk away. I stepped just beyond the door and asked in English and Sign Language, "Is she okay?"'

The woman nodded and mumbled yes and shooed me back into the room.

I can't remember much of the next part. There were two girls there and I can't remember if this was next or the end, but apparently they both had recently gotten married. The leader hugged them both and called them his married babies, so I'm guessing that was at the end of the dream because the leader had not arrived yet.

So when people started coming to receive the leader, I noticed that they had thrown on jackets and hats over their regular clothes. I became worried because all I had was a plain black hat with no decoration, and I was the only one with that. The woman was at the door again so I asked her, "We have to wear red and blue for this, don't we?" I was worried. Centuries ago we wore red and blue with black if we were high ranking officers for the Adonai in the old empire. I was afraid I was standing in this situation again, and I did not want to be there.

The woman did not answer. She went back out the door. Then everyone else came, and I have a vague sense that something else happened. But I'm not sure what. The leader arrived, wearing a business suit and a red and blue military-looking jacket. I remember the red trim.

He was somewhere near his fifties with grey hair and a potbelly. He walked into the room and stood by the giant window in the large room. There were steps in the room; like a rise in the middle of the room. Everyone else lined up on it and stood with their hands clasped behind their backs like we used to do centuries ago. Because I was no longer with the groove of this dream scenario, I watched everyone and imitated them. I also looked at their arms because there was a part of me making sure they were doing it right. I knew how to do it, so did not worry about that part.

When I found my place and stood, the leader took a few steps. This made everyone else change positions. They started walking in a circle around him going clockwise. I followed, wondering what in the hell, as the leader said, "I created this room to be like it used to be, but also so that if you were to die in here the last words you would see were those written on the wall."

But there were no words on any wall, but I did not say anything. Something knew that I had to be utterly and completely quiet and not slip up here.

But after making a full circle around the leader, I realized that everyone else was doing it because they didn't know where to stop. I knew that someone had to stop and look like they knew what they were doing, so I did. I stood with my back to the wall that had the door and clicked my heels together, standing at attention. Everyone else followed suit, so that we made a circle around the leader.

But I can't remember what happened next.

There was something, also, about making a bed for the girl child. People were coming into the room and pouring bubble gum on the floor, and she was going to sleep on that I thought. It was a colorful little area they were making, like what you see in nurseries today. But now that I'm awake I'm wondering if it weren't packing peanuts and not bubblegum for some reason.

And for some odd reason the leader was sitting on the bubblegum to talk to us and we were sitting cross-legged around him.

I wish I could remember.

I didn't wake up until after noon even though I went to bed early.

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Subject:	Violet for Violence
Time:	11:11 pm.

I was doing yoga a few days ago, a day in which a hateful little troll told me that the advice MZB and RP had passed down to me from their vast experience was a load of BS. This upset me, of course... to be told that the past year was a waste of time because I spent some of it making sure a certain comic script was tidy and worth my attention. (I dislike last minute scripts. You can tell a last minute script in a lot of cases. The dialogue is usually crappy, the characters .5 dimensional much less only 1, and the overall flow says "I'm a lazy writer!".)

So I was doing yoga and obeying the commands of a long gone temple to forget about the pathetic little son of a bitch.

While stretching I began to wonder. "Y'all know I won't because it wouldn't be justified," I said to the Fishbowl at large, namely the Council of 9 my personal bunch of old men... and whomever else was listening, who can say.... "But... if I WERE to decide to punish that little bastard for trolling me like that, you wouldn't stop me... right? RIGHT?"

The response was a vision of the color purple.

"What the fuck," I thought as I pulled away disgusted at the response. As I pulled away, however, I also was able to step away from what they were showing me and got a better view. It wasn't just the color purple that they showed to me. It was a cluster of purple grapes.

What the hell.

While I was driving and pondering the message, someone up there said to me, "The grapes of WRATH you idiot!"

LOL

Point taken.... but... that wasn't what I was asking, people! I was asking if I really was the boss or was I going to have to go all grape on them!

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