Chat
08-19-2015, 05:38 PM
19 Aug 2015
No intention set(beyond getting some sleep while sleeping on the floor. I really need to get a bed.
)
Traveling through a desert area. Hot, dry, dusty. No other vehicles, no other people seen. A sense of passing through on my way to wherever I'm supposed to be.
Cleaning a house-this could be day residue because I am in the process of clearing, cleaning, and staging our house to sell.
Standing on a rocky bluff overlooking an ocean. A feel that I've seen this locale before but don't know where. The sky is blue, the water fairly calm. The rocks are black and Swiss cheese-like, like volcanic rocks I've seen before.
Driving along an ocean-side highway. Mine is the only vehicle on the road but I do see people on the beaches. There's no real development in the area except for a hotel resort. Another nice day with calm water. Perfect for playing in the surf. I pull into a parking area, turn off the engine, and sit in my car, watching the water. I'm waiting for something to happen with the water, something I knew was going to happen. I'm there to witness whatever happens. I'm in no danger, I'm parked far enough away to see clearly but not be part of whatever's about to occur.
Over head view of the same shoreline, as if I'm in a helicopter flying in from the water's direction. Rocky shore with rocks jutting out of the water. Beaches with people in the water and on the sand. A few boats in the water. The surf is gentle at first but suddenly big waves start rolling in, crashing into the rocks, spray blowing high into the air. People on the beaches start to run. Most of the boats in the water try to make a break for open water. Some are slammed into the rocks. Some do make it but somehow I know they're still not safe. Some people on the beach stop to watch the boats. Others push by them. I know there's yelling and panic but I hear nothing. I'm struck by how sunny and clear the day is while all heck breaks loose on the shore.
I'm in an unknown city, walking through a carnival with loud music and bright flashing lights. Even though it looks nothing like Las Vegas, I know that's where I am. On the surface, everything seems bright and fun. I feel an undercurrent of darkness here, though, calling to people's souls. A siren's song of the dark, so to speak. I can feel it but it doesn't affect me. I'm also aware that it knows I'm there and I'm in danger the longer I stay there. But I have something I'm supposed to do and can't leave, not yet.
Walking through a crowded corridor. Think a hotel corridor but packed with people. Most are just milling around but some, like me, are on the move. I push through the crowd, which seems oblivious to those who are moving along the corridor. I can feel people behind me, following me, trying to catch up to me. I'm still in Vegas, looking for someone, someone I'm supposed to meet here. Someone who wants to leave Vegas but needs help to do so.
Still in the corridor. I've met up with a couple people who are there for the same reason I am, to help someone leave Vegas. We're going to work together. We know we're being pursued and that the pursuers are almost on us. We find our guy, an older gentleman whom I somehow know is retired military. He was at least a full bird, possibly a general, when he was active duty. Now he's just our assignment. We have to get him out of Vegas and get him to safety. We find him waiting for us at the juncture of two corridors. He's frightened but determined. We circle him, one at each point of the compass. We each put up a protective grid around the group. That way if one falls, protection will hold. We start moving fast. The pursuers are right behind us now. They attack. One of the group stumbles, goes to his knees. I fall back to stand with him, tell the others to keep moving, that we'll buy them time to get away. The one on his knees asks if I think we can hold them off. I tell him we were about to find out. He pulls a drum from somewhere and begins drumming and singing. I've got my rattle and I'm rattling along. I see the sound waves filling the corridor. The milling people slow. It's like the air becomes thick. Quicksand-like. Movement is nearly impossible. I see the pursuers, struggling to reach us. My partner picks up the tempo of his drumming and singing. I match his rhythm with the rattle. One of the milling crowd sits down in the corridor, watching us drum and rattle. Others follow suit until there's a solid carpet of people blocking the way between us and the pursuers. I look at my partner. He nods. Time for us to go. He does a fast rhythm on the drum...and a cat meowed in my face, waking me.
The shorelines, even though the appeared to be the same, felt different. The first one felt like Hawaii. The second like somewhere on the Gulf Coast along LA. The last was central or northern CA.
I don't know if Las Vegas was a metaphor for darkness, but it wouldn't surprise me.
I didn't recognize the others and none of us knew each other. We just knew we were there to help someone escape the darkness.
The drummer may have been Native American or someone who knows about drumming. I didn't recognize the words of his song, they were in another language. But the drumming and his singing held power which was augmented by my rattling.
I woke up this morning tired and achy, as if I didn't get any good rest(which is entirely possible since I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor and had cats bothering me off and on all night).
No intention set(beyond getting some sleep while sleeping on the floor. I really need to get a bed.
)Traveling through a desert area. Hot, dry, dusty. No other vehicles, no other people seen. A sense of passing through on my way to wherever I'm supposed to be.
Cleaning a house-this could be day residue because I am in the process of clearing, cleaning, and staging our house to sell.
Standing on a rocky bluff overlooking an ocean. A feel that I've seen this locale before but don't know where. The sky is blue, the water fairly calm. The rocks are black and Swiss cheese-like, like volcanic rocks I've seen before.
Driving along an ocean-side highway. Mine is the only vehicle on the road but I do see people on the beaches. There's no real development in the area except for a hotel resort. Another nice day with calm water. Perfect for playing in the surf. I pull into a parking area, turn off the engine, and sit in my car, watching the water. I'm waiting for something to happen with the water, something I knew was going to happen. I'm there to witness whatever happens. I'm in no danger, I'm parked far enough away to see clearly but not be part of whatever's about to occur.
Over head view of the same shoreline, as if I'm in a helicopter flying in from the water's direction. Rocky shore with rocks jutting out of the water. Beaches with people in the water and on the sand. A few boats in the water. The surf is gentle at first but suddenly big waves start rolling in, crashing into the rocks, spray blowing high into the air. People on the beaches start to run. Most of the boats in the water try to make a break for open water. Some are slammed into the rocks. Some do make it but somehow I know they're still not safe. Some people on the beach stop to watch the boats. Others push by them. I know there's yelling and panic but I hear nothing. I'm struck by how sunny and clear the day is while all heck breaks loose on the shore.
I'm in an unknown city, walking through a carnival with loud music and bright flashing lights. Even though it looks nothing like Las Vegas, I know that's where I am. On the surface, everything seems bright and fun. I feel an undercurrent of darkness here, though, calling to people's souls. A siren's song of the dark, so to speak. I can feel it but it doesn't affect me. I'm also aware that it knows I'm there and I'm in danger the longer I stay there. But I have something I'm supposed to do and can't leave, not yet.
Walking through a crowded corridor. Think a hotel corridor but packed with people. Most are just milling around but some, like me, are on the move. I push through the crowd, which seems oblivious to those who are moving along the corridor. I can feel people behind me, following me, trying to catch up to me. I'm still in Vegas, looking for someone, someone I'm supposed to meet here. Someone who wants to leave Vegas but needs help to do so.
Still in the corridor. I've met up with a couple people who are there for the same reason I am, to help someone leave Vegas. We're going to work together. We know we're being pursued and that the pursuers are almost on us. We find our guy, an older gentleman whom I somehow know is retired military. He was at least a full bird, possibly a general, when he was active duty. Now he's just our assignment. We have to get him out of Vegas and get him to safety. We find him waiting for us at the juncture of two corridors. He's frightened but determined. We circle him, one at each point of the compass. We each put up a protective grid around the group. That way if one falls, protection will hold. We start moving fast. The pursuers are right behind us now. They attack. One of the group stumbles, goes to his knees. I fall back to stand with him, tell the others to keep moving, that we'll buy them time to get away. The one on his knees asks if I think we can hold them off. I tell him we were about to find out. He pulls a drum from somewhere and begins drumming and singing. I've got my rattle and I'm rattling along. I see the sound waves filling the corridor. The milling people slow. It's like the air becomes thick. Quicksand-like. Movement is nearly impossible. I see the pursuers, struggling to reach us. My partner picks up the tempo of his drumming and singing. I match his rhythm with the rattle. One of the milling crowd sits down in the corridor, watching us drum and rattle. Others follow suit until there's a solid carpet of people blocking the way between us and the pursuers. I look at my partner. He nods. Time for us to go. He does a fast rhythm on the drum...and a cat meowed in my face, waking me.
The shorelines, even though the appeared to be the same, felt different. The first one felt like Hawaii. The second like somewhere on the Gulf Coast along LA. The last was central or northern CA.
I don't know if Las Vegas was a metaphor for darkness, but it wouldn't surprise me.
I didn't recognize the others and none of us knew each other. We just knew we were there to help someone escape the darkness.
The drummer may have been Native American or someone who knows about drumming. I didn't recognize the words of his song, they were in another language. But the drumming and his singing held power which was augmented by my rattling.
I woke up this morning tired and achy, as if I didn't get any good rest(which is entirely possible since I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor and had cats bothering me off and on all night).