I was at the rocky shore late at night. A lightning storm lit grey heaving seas. A huge creature was clinging to a rock, waves washing over it. It lashed grey tentacles in the air and the sea. What was it? Why was it there? What was it trying to catch?

20170620-The Anonymous Orchestra
6:10 AM PST

I am a student at a University. It is early Fall, dark outside and getting colder. I am going home to my dormitory with my backpack of books. When I arrive at the building, there are limousines in the drive at the front, and men in tuxedos milling around the entrance. No women seen. With difficulty I get through the doorway. I decide to cut through to a staircase in the back to avoid the crowd of men inside in tuxedos.

I get through a doorway, and double doors are closed behind me by ushers with white gloves. I am in the back of an auditorium with men in tuxedos who could not get a seat. The ushers are blocking the way forward and back, so I am stuck in the auditorium for now.

There is a group of musicians in the center of the room, perhaps an octet. Their music is beautiful, and this is surprising because all of them are wearing paper bags over their heads with eye holes in the bags. The violins do not miss a note, and even the flute player is in perfect time and perfect pitch. They are so good that even the bags do not rustle. How can they do it?

The music ends to thunderous applause. They are about to play again, but the flute player holds up a hand, and walks quickly to the back of the room, where I am. One of the tuxedos, a younger man, was quietly saying something to his friend.

“You there!” The flute player points at the talker. “No talking! Lie down on the floor!” The young man obeys at once.

The flute player turns to an older man. “You!” He points his finger again. “No chewing gum! Lie down on the floor!” The older man lies down immediately. No arguments, not a word. I realize that the flute player has a Chinese accent.

The flute player turns to me. In spite of the bag, he has bad breath. Perhaps he had fish for dinner. “You!” He points to me. “What do you have in your hand?”

I look down at a half-eaten roll of Wintergreen lifesavers. “Uhh, just some lifesavers. You can have one if you like.”

The flute player leans his bag head close to me. Quietly he says, “Not now, but perhaps I will have one after the performance.”

“I will save them for you,” I reply quietly, and stick the roll in my jeans pocket.

“Very well!” he says in his loud command voice, and turns back towards the musicians.

Dream ends here.

This morning during prayer I hear "the doors to Heaven are wide open right now". What does that mean in relation to anything? I don't know. As usual I only report what I see and hear.

   

Trending: lifted hunting smiling dollar hated pot yellow alone locked placed ordering underneath gone emotion told blurry error copy suddenly considered bored friend extremely backpack music anymore guest cement silent got
Waning: thanks talking inside sudden dream state cloud conscious pretty flying sky self passed hit waking air clouds carriage ground wind

For more details about these DreamBot runs, please see: http://nationaldreamcenter.com/forum18/T...amBot-Runs

   

I am curious. Are there any similarities out there on what we are dreaming about right now?
What are the themes of your most recent dreams?

I thought we had a Tsunami thread but don't see it now so here is a new one.
Greenland had a tsunami yesterday after a small earthquake caused a landslide.
4 people have died.
http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/north/tsun...-1.4166406

20170618-Dream-What to do with Exploded Jesus
08:30 PST

The dream begins with Mary Magdalene working at a barbecue concession in a park. She is depressed but has shown up for work anyway. She is pushing a couple of burgers around on the grill. It is a sunny day, beautiful in the park, and visitors are starting to get lunch and eat at the old wood picnic tables.

She is depressed because Jesus has exploded. There are bits of him scattered all around the dining area. “What a mess!” she says to me. “What are we going to do now? And what are we going to do about all these pieces?”

“Maybe we should just leave them where they lie,” I suggest. “They are small enough. No one will know or mind too much, and they will just go back into the cycle of nature. I don’t know...”

But I pick up a garden rake, more for something to do than any plan, and begin to rake up the bits of Jesus. The scraps are very small, and they look more like beef jerky than anything recognizable. Mary Magdalene watches me raking as she continues to make hamburgers.

“What are you going to do with the bits?” she asks me.

“I don’t know,” I say, “Maybe I will put them in a glass case.”
I look down to see a shallow case in white metal enamel, standing on end like a bathroom medicine cabinet, but with a glass front and a fluorescent light inside. There is a mound of jerky bits inside on the bottom. As I watch, the bits leak out of small holes at the bottom of the case.

“No,” I tell her, “that’s a bad idea...”

But I am looking at the rake. It was a bit rusty with a splintery, well-weathered handle and some dried mud on some of the tines. But now the metal part of the rake is as shiny as a liquid mirror, glinting in the sunlight. The handle has become polished and new. I am moving it through the dirt and leaves, and it works just like any other rake, but even mud will not stick to it.

The pile of exploded Jesus bits grows larger. The dream ends and we have not decided what to do with them.

20170612-Dream-Grandmother Zombie

I am onboard a ship at sea during World War II. It is a freighter of some sort, but there are also passengers aboard. We are in the middle of the North Atlantic. Two bored boys have been amusing themselves by tying a J-shaped piece of coathanger for a hook to a string, and dropping it over the side of the boat. They are trying to see who will catch the biggest fish. After a half hour at the rail of catching nothing, one of the boys feels a tug on the line. When he hauls it up, the hook is coated with yellow slime. They bring it on deck. It forms into a dome of jelly. They poke at it with the rest of the coathanger and it moves slowly away, avoiding the metal. This is great fun! At least, until it leaps from the deck into their faces.

They are quiet, well-behaved boys for a couple of days as the slime built up in their systems. Then they move fast around the ship, distributing the infection to other passengers. By the time the infection is noticed, half the passengers and crew are infected.

There is war on the ship. We found out that a wood stake, pounded into a zombie, would stop him (or her). But if the stake were pulled out, the zombie would start up again. We stake the zombies as best we can and lock them into compartments, but they continue to slime new people into the zombie fold. We get more and more efficient at staking zombies, but there is not a lot of suitable wood on the ship. We are losing the war.

In the course of fighting them, I begin to notice some odd features about them. They are very fast—for the most part. They can also talk, but never seem to have much to say. Mostly it is flat instructions to each other to ‘go here’ or ‘go there,’ or ‘you are about to get a stake in your back,’ always delivered in a flat, calm tone.

The exception is a Grandmother Zombie. She was an old lady already when slimed, but she had somehow retained her kindly face and a lot of her old personality. She moves very slowly unlike the rest, so I never get around to staking her. I am too busy with the fast-moving zombies. She is always sweetly smiling and can be heard to give calm encouragement to the zombies around her. “Don’t give up dears! If you rush them, they can’t stake all of you,” and “Back that young lady into the corner. Very good! Now go ahead and slime her! That’s the way its done. You are all doing such a very good job.”

I am nearing the end. I have been awake for over 24 hours, staking zombies with a dwindling company of normals. We make our way to the bridge at one point where zombie crewmen are resolutely sailing the ship towards Europe. We try to at least stop the ship and set it on fire or something. We stake the crew, and they fall where they stood, but more zombies simply take their places. Some fight us while others unstake the crew. It has been for nothing.

We fight a defense that takes us into a hallway of cabins. The normals are falling to slime, and the Grandmother Zombie is there at the back, urging on the zombies in her trembly, kind, grandmotherly voice. My back is at a cabin door. I duck a slime blast aimed at me, and it hits my last remaining companion in the back of the head. She shrieks, and the zombies pull her into their crowd, awaiting her transformation. I back into the cabin, lock the door, and move stuff up against it. I am tired, done, and need sleep. The zombies outside murmur a while, and then grow quiet. Some of them groan a bit in a disappointed way. Then I hear the voice of the Grandmother Zombie.

“He did a wonderful job of battling us today, don’t you think? But don’t worry dears. He has to sleep now. We will get to him while he is sleeping.”

Dream ends.


Comments.
I woke right up after that one! I haven’t seen a zombie movie in years, and the only one I really liked was a parody of zombie movies, “Shaun of the Dead.”

I do think that the -idea- of zombies represents a Jungian archetype. You can, for example, see people acting out the role of zombies in any large organization. Many of the checkout clerks at Walmart come to mind.

Woke up this morning with a shaky Spirit. I call it having a "Benny from The Mummy movie" moment, except this is lasting longer than a moment.  Hope I am just picking up on the world vibes. I do not ever want to live through a world wide event. Be it a man made event like war or a natural Earth event.

Update: Now I'm listening to Country Gospel. https://youtu.be/-e0EHs4zFNI?list=RDPJ9ZJPIDkis