National Dream Center

Full Version: An incubation
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21 Dec 2015

Intention: Asked for more information on Still's dream

I'm traveling. Observing. Not in cities, but out in towns and on back roads. Listening to people talk. Watching as groups of people are moved into shanties/shacks. Little rundown houses build atop cement blocks. Watch as men check beneath the shacks. I ask someone what they're doing and I'm told they're looking for bombs.

Driving along a country road. Two lanes. Lots of traffic that slows, then stops. I decide to go back to a little diner I passed a few miles back. Turn around and drive back on the grass shoulder. No one seems to notice.

The diner is packed but I'm able to find a seat at a table occupied by a variety of people. No one's talking, they're all watching the news on the TV on the wall. What's going on? I ask the waitress. She looks exhausted and bedraggled. Tells me people are leaving the cities, that the cities aren't safe any more, but there's nowhere to go. She tells me they're out of coffee and running low on soda. I ask if there's iced tea. She tells me yes, but no ice. I order unsweetened tea and a sandwich. Sorry, out of bread. Okay, I say, tell me what you do have. She says, Some eggs and vegetables. I tell her I'll have a veggie omelette. She heads off to take care of the order. I turn my attention back to the TV, which is showing footage of fighting in streets. Military present. Buildings on fire. Where is that? I ask. Chicago, someone says. Any city, someone else says. Pick a city and people are fighting back. What happened? I ask. An old guy looks at me and asks where I've been that I didn't know about the takeovers. I tell him I've been camping, and away from the news for a while. Then all the people at the table start talking, telling me about the country getting hit with multiple terrorist acts, people being rounded up and put in camps, no food or goods because transport is disrupted. Military in the cities. Gangs fighting the military.

Outside, a couple Humvees with red crosses painted on the sides roar by on the shoulders of the road. People tell me not to trust the Red Cross, that the RC was a front for the government and they'd shunt you to camps where you'd get chipped so you could be tracked. Someone says, This country is in trouble. We're going down. We need help. There's a bit of a squabble between those who want to be saved without getting involved or expending effort and those who say it's up to the people to take back the country. One guy, a younger man wearing a t-shirt with some sport logo on it, asks me what I think. I shake my head and say I don't have an opinion. You from the government? he asks. All eyes rivet on me and everything goes quiet. No, I say, not from the government. What do you do then, he asks. I'm a shamanic practitioner, I say, A healer. Oh, he says, one of those New Age airy-fairy types. I laugh and say, Not hardly. Prove it, he says. Everyone's watching me. I close my eyes and send up a prayer for assistance, for something to offer them to demonstrate I was no threat. An image appears in my head and I begin describing what I see, an event from T-shirt guy's past. After a minute, he cuts me off, saying I wasn't proving anything. He slaps some money down on the table and hustles out of the diner. Everyone else is staring at me. Well, says the old man, You sure poked a stick in his bee hive. They all laugh and go back to watching the TV.

Then I was somewhere with buildings that reminded me of and old military base. No people around. Everything's neat and tidy. I wander around until I come to a group of people working on quilts. They invite me to join them. I do, telling them I can't stay long, though. I sit on the grass. They're hand piecing quilt blocks. A woman sees me watching and says, The machines don't work now and there aren't enough of the old machines around any more. Not enough of anything, says another woman. She's shushed by the group. Do you want them to hear? she's asked. Them? I ask. The women look around uneasily. It's not a good idea to ask questions, says one woman. Asking questions attracts attention and that can get you disappeared. Like us, says another. More unease and much protesting that all is good, that they're treated well, and they have the freedome to get together and quilt. I hear sounds of people approaching. The women return to their work. The one one woman says, Honey, a quick word of advice: Don't believe anything you're told. It's all illusion. Now you better run before you're stuck here, like us.

Scene shifts and this time I see the place as it really is, teeming with people and guards everywhere. An elderly man in a dark suit is standing by my side and I know he's one of my teachers in human form. What happened? I ask. The cycle ends again, he says. I gesture towards the camp. And is this part of the cycle? I ask. Is it inevitable? He says, At this point in your linear time, yes. As it has been before, as it is now. So the Black Hats won again, I say. And that's that. Humans are predictable, he says, and they tend to follow the easier paths without realizing the easier paths always lead to enslavement. What is the easier path? I ask. Allowing others to think for you, he says, to guide you and tell you how and what to think. To think for oneself, to live according to one's own path, that requires effort. Humans are essentially lazy, child, and that makes them susceptible to the machinations and manipulations of those who are not and who are willing to expend the effort to get what they desire. They fall to the illusions presented because it is easier than to stand for themselves. Is this inevitable? I ask again. What must be done to change this? Fight, he says, but not with violence. Fight with love, for only in love is there strength to shatter the illusions of fear and separation. Words will change nothing. Only love can change the path and return the balance. You are a messenger. Go. Give this message to all who are prepared to walk the difficult path of love. Deliver this message while there is still time, before this inevitability becomes permanent.

I woke up.

Emotional state: Calm and curious. I knew I needed to pay attention to all that I was seeing.

It didn't feel like the dream events were happening soon. More like over a span of years.

I didn't expect such detail and information. I don't know if it tags into Still's dream. Perhaps a different angle/viewpoint?