Chat
07-06-2015, 11:38 AM
5 July 2015-07-06
Intention: Show me what I need to know, what is important for me to know NOW
Part1: Nondescript terrain. Flat. Open. Everything is gray. The sky portion is a lighter gray, as if the sky is overcast. I look around and realize that I’m on one of the astral planes, one I’ve not been on before. There are other people around, but no one I recognize. No one is talking. They’re sort of milling around as if they don’t know why they’re in this place either.
I see a small black speck in the distance. It grows larger as it draws nearer. It’s a baby pram, one of those old fashioned black baby bed-type strollers. It rolls up towards me. No one is pushing the pram. It stops right before it bumps into me. I look down. There’s a baby in the pram, dressed in white. I’m not sure if it’s a boy or girl. It looks up at me, it’s eyes bright little black buttons. Really a cute little kid but the eyes are the eyes of something very, very old. Other people gather around and coo at the baby. It stares directly at me. Suddenly there’s a woman dressed as a nurse-old-fashioned white dress uniform, white stockings, white shoes, even a white cap-holding the pram’s handle. Excuse me, she says to me. You’re blocking the way. I look at her and give her my best “doofus on the loose” smile. Sorry, I say, was just admiring the baby’s cute little button eyes. I glance back at the baby. It looks up at me and speaks, in a high-pitched falsetto as if someone was attempting to sound like a small baby speaking. You think you can stop me, the baby says. No one can stop me now. Maybe not, I say, still grinning, But I sure as hell plan to give it a go. The baby waves its little fists in the air and says, Who ARE you who thinks to obstruct my desires? No one important, I say. Just the Paladin. The baby’s fists stop in mid-wave. The little button eyes begin to glow red. YOU are the Paladin? the baby asks. Yeah, I say. Go figure. The baby resumes waving its hands, pretending to be a real baby. No matter, it says. You are still nothing. You will be destroyed, as will the others.
Part 2: I’m standing outside a building. It looks like an old house that’s been converted to an office building. There are trees around the building. Grass. Flowers. Covered porch with old-fashioned rocking chairs. Very lovely and welcoming, complete with open front door. There are other people with me. A man moves to stand next to me. What do you think? he asks. I don’t know, I say, not taking my eyes off the building. But I think they’re trying to get us to enter. Agreed, says the guy. Question is, why? I shrug and say, All things considered, does it matter? No, I guess not, says the guy. What do you plan to do? Why ask me? I say. You’re the Paladin, he says, You’re in charge of this little band of whatever the hell we are. I look at him and say, I can barely handle being in charge of myself. Well, you must have drawn the short straw or something, because everyone here knows you’re in charge. Seriously? I ask, looking at the others. They all nod. There’s a murmur of agreement. They look skeptical. I don’t blame them. I’d be skeptical of me being in charge, too. So what’s the plan? the guy asks. I glance back at the open door, then grin. Someone wants us to enter, I say, So we’ll enter. But we’ll do it our way, not theirs. I open the door to a huge yellow station wagon land yacht, circa 1972-it was my parents’ car when I was a teen-ager-and climb behind the wheel. Hop in, I say, We’re going to enter in style. Someone says, You are not seriously thinking of ramming that place! I start and rev the engine. Nope, not going to ram it. Going to make it a drive-through. The guy laughs. Yells, Shotgun! Jogs around to the passenger side and climbs in. Others pile into the back seat and the bed. Several people shake their heads and walk away. I throw the car into drive, put pedal to the metal, and the big SW shoots forward. We plow through the outer wall. Careen through a living room and kitchen. Plow through another outer wall. End up in a grassy field on the other side of the house. I hit the brakes and we skid to a halt, kicking up sod. I put the car in park and get out to observe the damage done to the building. The others join me.
That, says someone, is an impressive hole. It was, indeed. It looked like a tank had plowed through the building, which it had, given the land yacht’s size and weight. We stood there, admiring the land yacht’s work, until we each felt something’s shock, then outrage, then burning anger. Uh-oh, someone says, we have pissed off someone. Now what? Now we haul ass, I say. We all pile back into the car. I shift to drive, pop the brake, tear up some more sod, and off we go. Guy in the passenger seat glances at me and says, They’ll be coming for you now. What are you going to do? What I always do, I say. Wing it. Apparently I do my best work when I have no idea what I’m going to do. He shakes his head and says, And I signed up for this. We all did, I say, we all did.
Notes: I think the baby in the pram bit was a bit of day residue because I read an article about Princess Charlotte’s christening and there was a photo of her mother pushing a black pram.
I have no idea why the land yacht showed up but it was an amazingly sturdy vehicle. I backed into someone while driving it and while the other vehicle had serious damage to the front fender area, the land yacht didn’t have a scratch.
Also no idea who those other people might be.
There might be more but right now I have an appointment. Will be back later.
Intention: Show me what I need to know, what is important for me to know NOW
Part1: Nondescript terrain. Flat. Open. Everything is gray. The sky portion is a lighter gray, as if the sky is overcast. I look around and realize that I’m on one of the astral planes, one I’ve not been on before. There are other people around, but no one I recognize. No one is talking. They’re sort of milling around as if they don’t know why they’re in this place either.
I see a small black speck in the distance. It grows larger as it draws nearer. It’s a baby pram, one of those old fashioned black baby bed-type strollers. It rolls up towards me. No one is pushing the pram. It stops right before it bumps into me. I look down. There’s a baby in the pram, dressed in white. I’m not sure if it’s a boy or girl. It looks up at me, it’s eyes bright little black buttons. Really a cute little kid but the eyes are the eyes of something very, very old. Other people gather around and coo at the baby. It stares directly at me. Suddenly there’s a woman dressed as a nurse-old-fashioned white dress uniform, white stockings, white shoes, even a white cap-holding the pram’s handle. Excuse me, she says to me. You’re blocking the way. I look at her and give her my best “doofus on the loose” smile. Sorry, I say, was just admiring the baby’s cute little button eyes. I glance back at the baby. It looks up at me and speaks, in a high-pitched falsetto as if someone was attempting to sound like a small baby speaking. You think you can stop me, the baby says. No one can stop me now. Maybe not, I say, still grinning, But I sure as hell plan to give it a go. The baby waves its little fists in the air and says, Who ARE you who thinks to obstruct my desires? No one important, I say. Just the Paladin. The baby’s fists stop in mid-wave. The little button eyes begin to glow red. YOU are the Paladin? the baby asks. Yeah, I say. Go figure. The baby resumes waving its hands, pretending to be a real baby. No matter, it says. You are still nothing. You will be destroyed, as will the others.
Part 2: I’m standing outside a building. It looks like an old house that’s been converted to an office building. There are trees around the building. Grass. Flowers. Covered porch with old-fashioned rocking chairs. Very lovely and welcoming, complete with open front door. There are other people with me. A man moves to stand next to me. What do you think? he asks. I don’t know, I say, not taking my eyes off the building. But I think they’re trying to get us to enter. Agreed, says the guy. Question is, why? I shrug and say, All things considered, does it matter? No, I guess not, says the guy. What do you plan to do? Why ask me? I say. You’re the Paladin, he says, You’re in charge of this little band of whatever the hell we are. I look at him and say, I can barely handle being in charge of myself. Well, you must have drawn the short straw or something, because everyone here knows you’re in charge. Seriously? I ask, looking at the others. They all nod. There’s a murmur of agreement. They look skeptical. I don’t blame them. I’d be skeptical of me being in charge, too. So what’s the plan? the guy asks. I glance back at the open door, then grin. Someone wants us to enter, I say, So we’ll enter. But we’ll do it our way, not theirs. I open the door to a huge yellow station wagon land yacht, circa 1972-it was my parents’ car when I was a teen-ager-and climb behind the wheel. Hop in, I say, We’re going to enter in style. Someone says, You are not seriously thinking of ramming that place! I start and rev the engine. Nope, not going to ram it. Going to make it a drive-through. The guy laughs. Yells, Shotgun! Jogs around to the passenger side and climbs in. Others pile into the back seat and the bed. Several people shake their heads and walk away. I throw the car into drive, put pedal to the metal, and the big SW shoots forward. We plow through the outer wall. Careen through a living room and kitchen. Plow through another outer wall. End up in a grassy field on the other side of the house. I hit the brakes and we skid to a halt, kicking up sod. I put the car in park and get out to observe the damage done to the building. The others join me.
That, says someone, is an impressive hole. It was, indeed. It looked like a tank had plowed through the building, which it had, given the land yacht’s size and weight. We stood there, admiring the land yacht’s work, until we each felt something’s shock, then outrage, then burning anger. Uh-oh, someone says, we have pissed off someone. Now what? Now we haul ass, I say. We all pile back into the car. I shift to drive, pop the brake, tear up some more sod, and off we go. Guy in the passenger seat glances at me and says, They’ll be coming for you now. What are you going to do? What I always do, I say. Wing it. Apparently I do my best work when I have no idea what I’m going to do. He shakes his head and says, And I signed up for this. We all did, I say, we all did.
Notes: I think the baby in the pram bit was a bit of day residue because I read an article about Princess Charlotte’s christening and there was a photo of her mother pushing a black pram.
I have no idea why the land yacht showed up but it was an amazingly sturdy vehicle. I backed into someone while driving it and while the other vehicle had serious damage to the front fender area, the land yacht didn’t have a scratch.
Also no idea who those other people might be.
There might be more but right now I have an appointment. Will be back later.
