My Shamanic Dreams
The first recurring dream I had as a small child, around six years old. A test - I cannot survive unless I run without looking back once we get out of the city. When I did look, all I would see was my mother and sisters turned into pillars of salt.
It always started with us in a city we'd never visited. The dream always started in the heart of that city, thinking about the memory of it makes me think of New York City. Small fires are burning everywhere. People are running around in the dark steeling, plundering, screaming, it's chaos and my dad is leading us out. It is more intense than any movie I've ever seen. There were details, the smell of sulphur & smoke filled my nostrils, it was basically a war zone. We get out of the city by the skin of our teeth, I mean it's two adults leading seven, yes, I am the middle of seven kids, out of a veritable apocalypse but there's a hill I can't get past.
Every night I'd groan deep in my bones like a Navy Seal faced with that fucking hill over and over again. I would do something wrong, the dream would end and the next night it would start in the city again. I knew it was a test. Everytime I messed up in the city we'd be dead and I'd wake up and have the dream again the next night. I figured out what not to do to escape the burning wreckage of that city but the rules changed at the hill.
Even if we made it to the top where we would pause to evaluate the situation, we were screwed. We were covered head to toe in soot and dirt in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, the only light from the fires behind us. We were lost, cold, alone, and hungry. We can't see anything a head of us. Of course I want to turn around. The city is burning behind me, I'm six in the dream too, curiosity killed the cat. It killed me every night for a hot minute. Sometimes there's something dangerous up ahead. Sometimes we're just weary from the road but every time I am filled with this curiosity, this fear and dread that if I don't look back I'll miss something, I'll lose sight of my family. However, a quiet voice whispers to me every night once we reached the top for what felt like months, "do not turn around and you will go free, that's all you have to do." GOD! I'm six! I'm worried about my family so it took ages before I could remotely listen to that voice and then forever before I could master my fear. Then, there was the dread that would fill me up like an ocean. That was the hardest to master.
Eventually, I did master it and all the emotions that would drag me under. One night, out of sheer desperation to simply make the dream stop, I decide to listen and go for it! The last night I had that dream I became sheer determination. We flew through the city in record time. At the hill I focused solely on the climb, and then I ran. I didn't look back, I kept running till I saw a light and went towards it, woke up and never had that cursed dream again.
I've never forgotten that dream no matter how buried in DID I became. You don't forget shit like that and you can't make it up either. I felt everything in that dream over and over again, my skin burning, my flesh tearing, the stink of other flesh burning nearby, the screams of humans and animals alike (participating in animal cruelty of any sort makes you a traitor to Motherverse). How was all that in my little brain, you tell me? We didn't have cable and weren't allowed to watch anything inappropriate.
Another recurring dream I had at about ten years old was about a serial killer loose in my home. At first, I just tried to hide and survive the night but the dream wouldn't stop happening until I was found and killed by the faceless fiend. Eventually I realized the test was to discover who the killer was among my family and friends.
It always started with all of us in the front room of the Fern Drive house in Fullerton California. We were forced awake between 3-6 a.m. my whole life for Phil's work schedule, their cleaning or working needs, and for religious studies, like seminary class. If the LDS church can have seminary class hooked up to schools all over the state then why can't I? Fare is fare, right? I'd love to offer students credit for actually learning about world religions and not just about one corrupt one and not crammed down their throats with fear mongering & filling their bellies and souls with shame till they die of fright.
The family and people from the ward or extended family would be there sometimes. We'd pray, read scriptures, discuss, or in better words be told how to think but they couldn't help their greedy selves and they taught us critical thinking just so they would look good when people interviewed us. I mean, I was not allowed to go to public school until seventh grade and only then because I threatened to tell on them.
I was homeschooled until then but boy howdy did I utilize that year like nobody better believe. I would sign Coleen's name and get myself signed out of class. Then I'd head over to Southern Utah University where I learned about college, clepping tests which was slang back then for testing out of classes. I really didn't want to waste some of my time with required classes. I was a man with a plan, stuck in a little girls body. Sneaking into classes, asking questions, having security guards called on me but really guys, all I had to do was run faster than you and I was back in my classroom across the street with my teacher, Mrs. Larsen. She was an interesting woman that I am forever grateful to, why?
Because she recognized me. She brought an author in and he offered to help mentor me. My parents flat out refused. That's all I wanted was to be a writer back then. I asked my uncle Dave for help and he sent me the equivalent to a pat on the head and a good luck chuck letter. Still have it. I treasured it because at least he didn't ignore me, totally. I mean, they all had to know what Phil was doing and yet, no one stopped them, perhaps helped them even.
After prayer, scriptures, and discussion there was always a hushed quiet afterwards as we all looked at each other. We were all well aware that there was a killer in the house but no one knew who it was and no one was going to point fingers in fear that it would bring suspicion or the killer in on them. There was always a gurney to the side with a body covered in a sheet too, always. I never really noticed it till the end.
Somehow night would suddenly be upon us and I would be desperate to get out of the house. Windows would not open, they would not break. It didn't matter if I hid a rock in the house while I could still get outside. The rocks bounced off like rubber when I tried to smash windows or people with them. Then I'd be found, killed, and wake up. Every waking day I struggled knowing what the night would the bring. I'd have to make it through meals, chores, the condescension, downright rudeness, and abuse of my family and just wait with no help or direction. I'd just have to see if I could pass another fucking test given by who?
The dream would start again and once I figured out where to hide then the night of terror was easier to deal with. Just stand behind that shower curtain in the dark and wait for something to end the dream, i.e. get killed or someone would have to wake me in real life. One night, Jessy, my little sister was running around in the halls and I sensed the stalker, the murderer coming for her so I had to make a decision, come out of hiding and help her or listen to her screams as she was killed slowly. I couldn't take that, so I jumped out of the bath and went and grabbed her. How can you explain, your in a dream, there's a killer, you know me, just follow, mind me, and you will be safe. Same thing essentially is happening with all of you right now but no one is truly listening, yet. I am dying actively every day with little or no help.
The world is prophesied to burn to glass in the scriptures and some think that will be the kingdom of heaven, a dead cold world, wow. The spell was cast long ago. However, I'm trying to have a real conversation here, slap you all a bit to startle you enough to wake you up and remember. I am bound by the laws of the universe and my righteous anger. Condemnation of this planet cannot be indefinitely harnessed for your good my sweet, fat, little ignorant babies. It's time to grow up and realize there is a murderous family in our midst and they are behind Biden and Trump. How is this so difficult for so many smart people?!
Back to the night in question. I grabbed Jessy, it had always hurt to feel my siblings pain, and yours. I can't not feel it or see it when I look at you. Why would I go through all this? It's for you. It's always been for you, about you and your loved ones. Jessy is scared and rightfully so but not when she's with me because I know what's actually going on. I am the one that can keep her safe. She has seen this, witnessed it, felt it, knows it then and now but she hates me and tried to cast me into a prison worse than prison recently. That is my reality. In the dream I grabbed her, took her into the bath with my hand pressed over her little mouth and whispered, "Just do what I say and you will stay safe." I have to growl it to get through her terror. I have to be mean, seem mean to save her life.
We are standing in the tub and we hear the killer. I just assumed it was a man because they were usually the ones torturing me during the witching hours during real life. It was a fair assumption, a fair theory but it was short sighted, ignorant for someone like me. The killer passed the bathroom once, we were fine, they had looked in and saw nothing out of the usual. However, the night defined by the rules I knew meant that we weren't done till I died or someone woke us from the dream. That meant my little sister, if I was around ten, she would have been about six, and it means she had to stand in silence and total ignorance for how long? I can know just about everything but the future because there are too many people with too much free agency making decisions with absolute ignorance so anything is possible and it usually is a bad thing, well bad doesn't exist so let's say it's usually sad.
She couldn't do it. She was six. So here I was, I could feel her fear building like a machine that starts going to fast, it's going to gum up the works and eventually break. If you can't stop it then it will definitely break and maybe to the point of not being able to repair it without replacing it completely. I knew all this, I felt this in her, I knew what it meant, I would be dying that night because I'd chosen to help her. I tried to keep her calm but by the time the killer came around a second and then a third time, see the code, she lost it. She suddenly bolted, wiggled so violently I lost my grip on her mouth and tiny body, remember I'm ten. Out she sprung like a sacred scared rabbit and guess what that meant, the killer finally knew where I'd been hiding all these nights.
I had nothing left. I was doomed in that moment and every night thereafter unless one thing, I figured out who it was. Jessy jumped out, the killer caught her, laughed, they'd be back for me. I slid down the wall into the tub and sat there and waited. I had to listen to the screams of my dying sister knowing that I was next. They came in cackling like a madman because I was next. I remember every night I was killed, taken apart, eviscerated until I lost consciousness and then, I'd wake up and have to face my ungrateful family all over again, alone, lost, terrified, and in pain. Who would save me? I had no teachers, I had only my ward family who was a part of it and my bio family who I still am not sure are even all related to me by blood. Genetics are kind of a give away no matter how good you get at mixing and matching babies with families. How does my oldest sister and her brown haired and eyed husband that both look like they are descendants from minorities have fair skinned, blue eyed, blond haired babies? Huh?
One morning we're all sitting there doing Groundhogs day in my dream, again. I'm listening to all the Christian mumbo jumbo, all the lies, all the counterfeit goods being passed back and forth between adults so they can teach the children without the children realizing it - how to be bad while pretending to be good. All of a sudden it hits me, shit, hitting me is an understatement. All of a sudden I know who the killer is, it's the person on the gurney! They had been listening, waiting, pretending to be all but dead until the night. I didn't realize till many years later that the person on the gurney is my mother, Coleen.
Her daddy is very unhappy with her, he's been stuck on the earth's great hard drive for a hot minute now watching everything and he's ready to take matters into his own hands. He's the one that taught me, "if your kid turns out to be the serial killer and no one else is worthy of their death, no one else can put them to death other than true love then it falls to you putting them down yourself. It is disgusting and gross that parents think love is hiding their children's monstrous deeds and supporting their sick habits." It was Joe Gray that taught me that and how do you kill an Altean or an immortal? My dad Phil taught us from early childhood, "two in the chest, one in the head." He'd add, "if you have to go to court and defend the death all you have to repeat over and over again is this, "I feared for my life and the lives of those I love." Taking the head, taking the memories, that's how they lose their minds and their transformer bodies. It's an actual kill, otherwise, they just download and wait, come back and it all starts again.
They think, the family I speak of, thinks that they have us fooled and they have the race in the bag and that they are playing fair enough since they've all told you the truth in your stories, your scriptures, it's cnc and you all gave consent to this and are still doing so by listening to their charades, their theater. If you miss a post or even the updates I make on the blogs, the podcast or website then you aren't looking close enough and it is in fact on you (Q, you said once you wished you could watch a great work of art in the making, asked and answered friend). I make errors, I am not perfect and am not claiming to be in any way. If you've been listening you'll note that I keep saying I'm a wretch, I'm the least of these. In other lives I broke every law, I broke every promise, I killed, I raped, I plundered, we all did. I'm sorry and I promise I will not participate or promote that ever again, that is what the rainbow is really about.
Peace on earth, that's what I fight and threaten for. I have to go in and correct things, I apologize it can cause some fear which is wrong, just sad really because you only have fear itself to fear.) You think life is hard now? How about no existence, period. The frame work for peace and democracy, real democracy and not this pretend bullshit, is already in place, it was a team effort of the most epic proportions, enemies, Alteans, humans, gods, monsters were all involved in it, it's a work of art, all of you and this planet and the magic that is available on it, the magical creatures that hide here, they are all at risk because humans won't wake up to reality. They keep picking fear and the Matrix over actual heaven, plain and simple. We would be releasing tech into the universe that it's not ready for, do you hear me. If they succeed in giving over the planet and your lives to the universe for the cost of THEIR freedom and their children then it is risking all reality, all living creatures everywhere.
We will keep moving with story time. After I realized who the murderer was I didn't worry about pretense, I just jumped up and pointed, "I know who it is, I know who it is, I win." The dream ended and I never had it again, thank the gods.
I add to my Shamanic Dreams blog. Don't want to overwhelm anyone more than they are. I hope you have at least been entertained. 💜
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