Category: Multidimensional

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Daddy’s Eyes

As I woke up this morning I saw a young man around the age of 30. He was so beautiful ageless, timeless, eternal. I didn’t know who he was at first but then he opened his eyes and stared directly into my soul as we connected and in that moment I knew exactly who he was. It was my dad. The connection was intense with a deep profound sense of knowing. His eyes were the color of the sun.

In last nights dream I became lucid and found myself in a building trying to find my way out toward freedom.  I am feeling a sense of confinement and I don’t know the people around me.  As I move about, I take note of the ethers that make up the dream.  It illuminates with my thoughts.  There are small etheric people within the ethers who pulsate light and color within their bodies in response to my thought.  They look like brine shrimp as the energy pulsates within the ethers.

As i stand still observing their behavior I see that my ability to create color has developed over time.  Now I experience complex shades of gray-blue.   I also note that the color black has taken on a new form, a delicate lattice not to be feared.  I see the letters 88 or HH appearing in the lattice.

As I walk through one door and emerge in another room very different from the previous I somehow know that I am in the same room.  I then will myself to go outside as I walk through a white door before me, I see people walking about not unlike on any city street.  They all appear to have purpose in being here going about their business.  I will myself to fly but seem to struggle getting very far up off the ground and not sufficient to clear the buildings.   I wonder if I should conform to walking like the others in this dimension.  I also wonder what I look like to them or if they even know I exist in their world.

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The Promised Land – A Place of Healing

Honey CombLast night I had an incredible and extremely vivid lucid dream.  In the dream I am in what appears to be a psychiatric ward of a hospital where people come to recover from mental and emotional trauma.  I notice the ward is mostly occupied by young men.  Most of the attending staff of doctors and nurses are women.  I am given a private room for my stay.  The layout reminds me of a honey comb.  Every room has 6 sides and is adjacent to another room with six sides which is adjacent to another room with six sides and so on and so forth for as far as you can see.  The layout strikes me as unusual so I walk through the rooms.  There are no corridors.  Every room simply leads into another room.  Many of the rooms are empty so there are plenty of open rooms available for new arrivals.  I see patients playing board games with each other and there is a very good communal atmosphere present. 

 

A nurse approaches me to perform my intake.  She encourages me noting the success of the hospital to treat trauma.  She tells me if I choose I will never have to suffer again.  This all seems so bizarre to me and I suddenly realize I am dreaming.  In this now wakeful state I begin to pay very close attention to everything she is telling me about their treatment program.  It sounds so appealing and makes perfect sense to me except I’m in a dream and I am lucid so I must investigate my surroundings.  I tell her I need some time to run some personal errands before committing to my stay.  She tells me there is no problem.  I can leave at any time and come back at will but I’m thinking a program this good is sure to fill up quickly.  I want to benefit from the program as well as conduct my research into this lucid state in which I find myself. With her assurance that a space is reserved for me, I leave through the door in the courtyard.  

 

Outside I run into my sister Grace who is going to accompany me on my journey.  I tell Grace that we are in a lucid dream and to pay close attention to everything she sees and hears and make a mental not of it.  I want to find the extent to which the illusion we are in persists.  At what point does the illusion of the dream break down?

 

What I am seeing through my mind’s eye is simply breathtaking.  I can see the sky and clouds and the moon and the stars with such clarity and beauty that is simply indescribable.  Upon the horizon is a massive thunderstorm approaching.  It is dark and ominous yet quite contained to a very specific area in the sky.  It is not threatening.  It is beautiful in the power and force it holds within it.

 

I continue to walk and walk till I finally reach the end of the illusion like walking through quicksand nothing else exists except the raw material from which reality is created.  I have long left my sister behind and only I stand alone in a thick sticky substance as if I had a sheet draped over me.  Feeling I’ve reached my goal and found my end I turn back and soon reencounter my sister who escorts me back to the hospital.  

 

I’m given the same room that I had been assigned before.  I’m surprised that they actually held the room for me. They in fact saved my place.  I sit in the courtyard looking up at the sky knowing that now I can benefit from all the healing properties of the dream.  I also can’t believe that I am fully aware of everything around me.  There is nothing out of place.  I have examined every detail of this dream, this reality and found every part to be complete in every detail.  Every word and sound makes perfect sense. I am in the process of healing my wounded soul.

 

After thought:

I was very struck by the honey combs.  Is this what a sixth dimension reality looks like, feels like? Within a hexagon is found the 6 pointed star or Star of David which is a reference to God.  Honey is a reference to love. 

“And thy Lord taught the bee to build its cells in hills, on trees and in (men’s) habitations…there issues from within their bodies a drink of varying colors, wherein is healing for mankind. Verily in this is a Sign for those who give thought”.   

Translation of Quran 16:68–69

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Clergy With Someone

ClergyLast night I had a restless night that resulted in a series of disturbing dreams. In the first dream I am at a party and we are blowing up balloons. They are the type of balloons that are twisted into animal shapes. The balloon I am given is black. The objective is to blow up the balloon to the break point without breaking it. As I begin to blow up my balloon I notice it looks like a penis or dildo. I am disturbed by the image and I want to stop but I feel committed to the challenge. I don’t want to fail. I’m aware that the more I blow the more pleasure is felt by those around me who are observing me. They are urging me on. I’m approaching the break point. Just one more puff. The balloon bursts with a loud pop. I immediately wake up startled by the loud sound and burst of air at my face.

As I open my eyes there is a fat black man looking at me with puffed cheeks, pinched lips and bulging eyes. He reminds me of Louis Armstrong. I am extremely annoyed at his presence. He is the reason why my balloon burst. The look in his eyes tells the whole story. He is making a joke of me. I backhand him and roll on my side to go to sleep.

I then had a dream where I am dating a guy over the internet whose screen name is “ClergyWithSomeone.” Our conversations occur mostly over the internet. At first our chats are pretty typical and very delightful. Then something changes the mood shifts for some reason and I suspect something is wrong. I’m trying to figure out what has changed. Why is it that the internet acting differently? As I examine the computer I realize my hands are stuck to the computer. I am trying to figure out how to detach myself from the device. I’m pulling the computer away from me over my head like a pull over sweater. At this point when I am almost free a white note is passed to me seemingly a chat request. I feel it is from someone trying to help me. I immediately grab for the note in the hope of freeing myself. I’m beginning to wake up.

When I open my eyes I’m completely disoriented. I cannot make heads or tails of my room yet I am awake. I feel like I am recovering from just having passed out as if the blood is just now returning to my brain. As my brain begins to make sense of my bedroom, I see three men floating above my bed. They are standing together in a group facing each other. They are humanoid with the face of an animal specifically a bear or a beaver. Again I am extremely annoyed with them for the dream they have given me. I don’t feel they are making fun of me they are simply telling me the truth, a truth which doesn’t feel so good. I back hand them and turn once again in the other direction and fall back to sleep.

I have another dream. In this dream there is a police officer that has been stocking my house and watching me through my closed windows. He has been watching my movie played on my television screen, a movie of my life. I feel violated. He knows my most personal and intimate details. Upon becoming aware of him I step outside my house onto the front porch to confront him. Given that he is a police officer, I feel I must comply with his demands. He wants to enter my home to inspect it. I turn and walk back toward my front door. Something inside me says, “DON’T DO IT….DON’T BELIEVE HIM…DON’T LET HIM IN. I must react quickly. I make a run for it at a moment in time where he was not expecting it. I slam the iron door closed and quickly turn the dead bolt lock. I tell him he must wait outside while I call the station and confirm that he is in fact who he says he is and has the authority with which to search my home. My actions angers him greatly.

I am in a panic inside the house not knowing what to do next. Who do I call? What should I do? The panic places me in a lucid state a super conscious state where answers are coming to me. I remember that I know how to fly. I am the master of my dreams. I alone am the script writer. I alone must confront him but I will do it prepared with a super conscious awareness. I practice for a moment flying back and forth within my dream house to verify that I can indeed fly and I have my super human powers at my readiness. I then open the door to confront my oppressor. It is dark outside and he is now no where to be found but I know he still lurks in the darkness.

I now go about my business. I walk through the house taking note of all the details. There are mementos of my life and memories of my mother. As I start to remember where I came from, I become lost in the experience. As the wave of information starts to end, I come across a group of photos. They are photos of me with my friends taken in the past. In the first photograph I see the man my oppressor the same man who stood outside my house dressed as a police man. I clearly recognize him now. I hear myself say, “I hate him.” I can’t believe we were once friends but here is the truth on paper. We were friends. I flip through the photos. We are together in a majority of the photos. He smiles like a horse. I remember his presence even in those days was overbearing but he was my friend.

I then hear a sound at the door. He is back and the front door is wide open. He enters the house. We both take flight and confront each other in mid air in a great show of force. He is an extremely powerful opponent with powers that equal mine. His advantage is that he has lived in this underworld for a long time. It is his home turf. I am on his playing field. I on the other hand have been away from my powers having used them only sparingly during the course of my life on earth. The knowledge of how to use them is steadily coming back to me. We collide many times in mid air but I am not backing down. It is not only me for whom I am fighting for. I am fighting for the freedom to be as we really are in our full potential. I am fighting for my family’s right to sovereignty, peace and security. We finally lock each other in a choke hold. I’ve got him by the neck gripped under my arm.

The struggle wakes me up. As I open my eyes there is a face of a man beside me. His face is bright red and he has an expression that is undoubtedly evil. If there is a devil this man is him. Interestingly he has two piercing one on his lip and the other on his nose. He is completely red except for both piercing which are a vibrant luminescent blue. I am amazed that I am seeing this before me in a fully conscious state. I give no expression other that of sheer determinations and steadfast resolve to stand my ground. After a few minutes….his image fades. I then got up and went to the bathroom to pee.

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Reading River

RiverLast night I had a dream.  I am at my house and I look out the front window and notice people gathering.  I step outside my front door to and see my neighbor Evelyn standing amongst a group of people.  She is giving them the news that she is moving out of the neighborhood after having lived in her house for over 30 years.  It is the end of an era. 

Upon hearing the news, I begin to cry.  I reach over to embrace my neighbor.  I am heartbroken.  She lovingly hugs me and tells me that everything is going to be ok.  She then draws my attention into the  distance. In front of my house there lies a river at the bottom of a hillside.  Along the bank of the river, I can see my nephew standing with an inflatable raft. 

There is something not quite right with the raft and this image.  I struggle to get a good look at the raft to figure out what is so unusual about it.  I notice that the raft does not have a place in which to sit.  It looks more like an inflatable mattress than a survival raft.  My nephew is fanning the ground with it causing dust to rise into the air like smoke signals.  I’m told he is waiting for his friends to arrive to go into the river with the raft.

My nephew’s behavior strikes me as curious.  I stand there puzzled trying to figure this out.  I have a vague awareness that I might be dreaming.  Nothing makes sense here.  As I’m standing there a strange man walks by.  I get the feeling the stranger does not belong in my dream.  He disappears out of sight. 

I then get in my car and drive around the neighborhood trying to be very observant.  I drive by old neighborhoods where I used to live.  All the housing in this area has been taken over by slumlords.  I attempt to read the writing along the streets paying close attention to the words.  The words don’t make any sense to me.  They are words I do not recognize or much less pronounce. I assume I must be dreaming.  At this moment I see the strange man again from before walk by.  He quickly gets lost in the heightened confusion but I am determined to make sense of this world.

I continue driving focusing hard on trying to take in all the information from this place.  I then notice that my car’s performance is not what it should be.  The car is stuck in second gear and it feels like it wants to stall.  I want to try to get to a place where I can pull over but I am currently driving through an underpass.  I need to make it to the other side.  I am looking over all the instrumentation gages in the car to see what might be wrong with it.  A small white navigational screen appears in the center console of the car.  It is displaying a single word.  Initially I do not recognize the word.  I can read the letters but not the word.   

Aggravated I turn to open the door and get out of the car.  The strange man is standing immediately outside my car.  Without thinking I reach over and grab him through the window of the car by his neck.  I take a firm grip of him and immediately wake up from the dream. 

I had literally sat up in bed when I grabbed for the stranger’s neck.  As I opened my eyes, I found the man clutched in my fist.  I could still see his face in my mind’s eye and before me with my naked physical eyes.  It was as if I had two copies of the same man in my head….one in the back of my mind and one out in the physical world in which I live.  His ethereal presence faded as I vehemently shook him in my physical world.  His expression was one of complete surprise.  He was not expecting me to do that.

Because I jerked myself awake when I reached over and grabbed him by the neck I inadvertently hurt my own neck as my sleeping head did not respond as gracefully to the request my body made to attack the man before me.  As I sat there in bed it occured to me that I did understand the meaning of the word displayed upon the navigational screen.  It’s meaning resonated deep within me with profound truth of which I cannot explain. 

3 days later my neck is still hurting from the incident. 

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Addicted to Cold Cream

Cold CreamLast night I had a dream where I am living with my extended family in a big house.  I have a son in his late teens or early twenties who is mentally challenged.  There are some animosities among the family members because many have there own personal agendas they’d like to see materialize and some of those agendas conflict with one another.  Because of my son’s disability, we all share in the responsibility of his care. Of course being that he is my son, he is my primary responsibility.

On this day, I am away from the house for a short period of time.  While I am gone someone in the house purposely gave my son access to cold cream.  My son is addicted to cold cream.  When I arrive back at the house, I find him in the corner gorging himself with cold cream.  I am infuriated because I know this could have only happened on purpose.  I inform my mother who is unaware of the situation.  She has a look of surprise as her eyebrows go up and her eyes enlarge to the size of grapefruit in total disbelief.

As I go into action to bring justice to the situation, I experience a false awakening.  I am aware I am having a false awakening.  I am now standing in my bedroom and my roommate is standing beside me hunched over trying to hide from me.  I can see the dream I just left appear a like another dimension before me.  Everything is fuzzy.  It is as if life paused for a moment in a state of timelessness.  Knowing my roommate is responsible for the cold cream incident I place my arm around him and tell him that he must go back into the dream.  I know for justice to be served he can not remain in this in between state where he has too much influence over the events in my life. 

With the full pressure of my body and a forward thrust of my hips I push him forward returning him to the dimension of the dream from which we came.  Now that he is back in the dream I am confronted by the faces of others as they float one by one in front of me.  These faces are talking to me but I can’t hear what they are saying I can only see there lips move. 

A worm hole opens up and suddenly I’m in another dimension.  Before me I can see my reflection but it is more than just a reflection it is the other half of who I am.  Knowing this I struggle to get my attention.  I think if I can touch myself I can get my attention but in my present state I am an ethereal being unable to apply pressure to make my presence known. I finally figure out a way to touch myself such that I might question what is going on.  He (the other part of me) turns to look at me.  Things seem to be happening in slow motion.  As he turns to look at me a wave of energy goes forward from my being in his direction.  I can see the wave brush against his face.  He becomes aware of my presence.  

An 1814 poem credited to “Dr. Russell” gives the following account of the benefits attributed to cold cream in that day:
WHEN a pot of cold cream to Eliza you send,
You with words to this purpose your present commend;
Whoe’er with this cream shall her countenance smear,
All redness and roughness will strait disappear,
And the skin to a wonder be charmingly clear;
If pimples arise, this will take them away;
If the small-pox should mark you, those marks will decay;
If wrinkled through age, or dawbing the face is,
‘Twill be smooth in a trice, as the best Venice glass is;
All this and much more, could I spare time to write it,
Or my pen go as fast, as your lips would endite it)
You affirm of your cream: and I would not abuse it,
But pray tell me one thing–Do you yourself use it?

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Love is Perfect; The Bedouin Man

BedouinIn the middle of the night I woke up with the feeling that someone had taken my wallet from off my nightstand.  Before I could even open my eyes, I grabbed for my wallet which was now in the hands of a man who walked beside my bed.  To the man’s surprise, I was successful at reclaiming my wallet from him.  As I opened my eyes, there standing beside my bed was this man.  He was a Bedouin.  Although he stood in my bedroom he also stood simultaneously in his world upon a precipice in the high desert.  He was a beautiful luminescent blue angelic being whose face radiated pure unconditional love.  At times the wind being so strong blew his scarf in front of his face obscuring my view of him.  I raised my hand and arm in front of me to hail his presence.  

                                                     

He then placed a vision in my mind; a dream where I am in a sexual embrace at the point of ecstasy with not a person but the entire universe.  The universe is inside my body.  The feeling was so overwhelming that I completely lost myself forgetting where I was. My being was totally and completely consumed by the experience.  For the first time I experienced real LOVE.  I understood that when we love our love is felt by everyone.  Love is perfect. 

 

As the dream continued and I regain awareness within the dream I realize I forgot to let the dog in from the cold.  I quickly run downstairs in the dream to let him back in.  My dog is so excited to see me.  I kneel upon the floor and my dog jumps into my arms to be cuddled by me.  We walk back upstairs and return to bed. 

 

The vision ends and my awareness is returned to the Bedouin man.  My arm is still outstretched.  My eyes rolled back in my head in utter amazement as my body fell back in bed.  After a few moments, I regained my composure and sat up again to look around the room.  The Bedouin man was nowhere to be found. 

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My Mother’s Name Is Penny

Last night I had a dream.  I receive in the mail a postcard addressed to a woman who does not live in my house.  The woman lives in Washington State whereas I live in Washington, DC.  It is addressed to the organization she represents in care of her.   My attention is drawn to the name of her organization, “The Foundation of Pennies” which is similar in name to my website “Penny For My Thought.” 

 

The next day again I receive another postcard addresses to the Foundation in care of this woman who I don’t know.  Each card I receive gives me a small clue as to the nature of the business she represents.  Over the next few days I continue receiving mail for this woman.  In my curiosity to find out more about the Foundation and it’s similarity in name to mine, I decide to open her mail.  Slowly but surely through the opened correspondences, I learn more about the woman without having ever met her.  I learn that she is a lesbian who is an advocate for gay, lesbian and transgender issues.  Some of her mail contains newspaper clippings with photographs of her at various events.  

 

One day I receive a package that contains a video tape documentary which tells all about the work the woman is involved in for the Foundation.  As I’m watching the documentary I hear a knock at the door.  It is a special delivery addressed to this woman.  I immediately sign for the package and in walks a little boy.  This is her son.  He is cute around the age of seven.  Since he sees me watching his mom on television he settles in to my house without questioning where he has been sent or that he might have been sent to the wrong address.  I think, now I’m really in trouble.  How do I explain to the boy or any other authorities my behavior of having opened mail that does not belong to me?  I’m sure it is a felony to do so.  I want to keep the child along with all the mail I’ve already opened because I am fascinated by the life this woman leads.  I’m worried that I would be accused of kidnapping the child even though he was rightfully delivered to my home.  For a few days, I say nothing to the boy as he remains happily in my care. 

 

Finally I decide to ask him about his mother.  He tells me his mother’s name is Penny.  I then tell him that he was delivered to the wrong address and I confess that I don’t personally know his mother.  He then shows me the envelope that came with his delivery which he had maintained in his pants pocket.  The envelope is sealed and addressed to me.  In it are a collection of postage stamps and a letter signed by Penny.  I now have the impression this was all done for a reason.  

foun·da·tion
Function: noun
Date: 14th century
1: the act of founding
2: a basis (as a tenet, principle, or axiom) upon which something stands or is supported <the foundations of geometry> <the rumor is without foundation in fact>
3 a: funds given for the permanent support of an institution : endowment b: an organization or institution established by endowment with provision for future maintenance
4: an underlying base or support ; especially : the whole masonry substructure of a building
5 a: a body or ground upon which something is built up or overlaid b: a woman’s supporting undergarment : corset c: a cosmetic usually used as a base for makeup

FUTURE REFERENCES: A Family By Choice

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A Weasle In My Bed

WeasleLast night I had a dream where I am undergoing a surgical procedure to remove some calcified deposit from my brain.  The procedure will be done on an out patient basis.  The procedure is described to me in detail by a female surgeon who will be performing the surgery.  The surgery needs to be done immediately before I awaken.  I am worried because there is no time to notify my employer in the event that I am unable to report to work the following day.  I am very scared fearing for my life.  She is the only person from whom I can seek assurance of my safety.  Before I sit in the operating chair I ask her if I can hug her.  At that moment a gentleman walks by. He is a resident intern.  She turns in his direction to grab his attention.  She asks him if he would share his story with me to help reassure me concerning the need for and safety of the procedure I am to undergo.  He pauses in the doorway to gather his thoughts and begins to explain his story which is similar to my situation.  He explains that he would have otherwise died if it had not been for the procedure that is about to be performed on me.

 

As she begins to apply the anesthesia to my scalp above my left ear, I begin to awaken from the dream.  Over me in my bed is an ethereal humanoid being who is by no means human.  I recognize him to be extraterrestrial.  Both my hands are holding my comforter tightly close around my neck to keep the warmth from escaping my sheets.  This visitor has a pointed jaw line and a few teeth protruding from his mouth.  He reminds me of a weasel or ferret.  I don’t trust him.  In a moment of quick thinking I try to push my comforter forward netting the being the being in my comforter and thereby pushing him away from me.  As my arms began to move forward in his direction he quickly reached down grabbing both my arms tightly and pinned me back down to my bed.  I felt the pressure of his forward motion and the weight of his body against my mine.  He looked squarely into my eyes.  I could see his lips moving but I did not hear any sound.  I laid there motionless under the weight of his presence with no alternate recourse.  He examined me visually then released me and backed away vanishing into space.  I looked at my clock on my nightstand. It was 4:25 am.  I then got up and went to the restroom.

In traditional symbology however, the weasel is represented as brave, graceful,[2] and a symbol of the brave Christian who triumphs over more powerful foes.[3] A weasel is shown as the companion of St Jordan of Battberg. It was also used in Christian hagiography as a symbol of resurrection,[4] and was respected as a hunter of snakes, and the one creature that could reliably kill a basilisk.

Weasels are one of many villainous races, along with rats and ferrets — although ferrets, biologically speaking, are a species of weasel.  In reference to the weasel’s reputation for skullduggery, the phrase “weasel words” means insincere or devious speech.

 

Basiliscus LizardIn European bestiaries and legends, a basilisk “little king” is a legendary reptile reputed to be king of serpents and said to have the power to cause death with a single glance. According to the Naturalis Historia of Pliny the Elder, the basilisk of Cyrene is a small snake, “being not more than twelve fingers in length”,[2] that is so venomous that it leaves a wide trail of deadly venom in its wake, and its gaze is likewise lethal; its weakness is in the odour of the weasel, which according to Pliny, was thrown into the basilisk’s hole, recognisable because all the surrounding shrubs and grass had been scorched by its presence.

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My Name is Interpol

CigarsLast night, I was visited by a group of extraterrestrials from another dimension. Their lead identified himself as Interpol.  He said his name means “communication.”  At the time of their visit I was stricken with sleep paralysis and therefore stuck in limbo in between worlds.  I could clearly see them standing by my bed partially materialized. They then took me on a journey to their world.  There I met a friend whom I refer to as Ben. We walked along their streets and sat in a tiny cabaret.  I noticed how everything was so crisp and clean. It was dark out and a moon was hovering closely in the night sky. I felt a bit uncomfortable in their world.  We spoke at length about the things we like to do. We both mentioned how we both enjoy a good smoke. 

 

He noticed I was uncomfortable so he asked if there was something I needed.  I asked him if we could go outside; out in the open air to walk again. He agreed.  Before stepping out in the open there was a display window in the cabaret with various after dinner items.  One of the items was a box which had three cigars.  I instinctively reached for one of the three cigars.  He reached for the second one.  I then offered him mine as a gesture of my appreciation.  We both smoked off the same cigar. 

 

We then found ourselves in an open pasture that belonged to a nursery for plants. The caretaker gave me a box with a hundred dollar bill in it and a certificate of ownership and deed to the property.  He said it was for me.  This was my inheritance he said.  I was overwhelmed at the gestures.  I knew this was everything I ever wanted.  I knelt on the ground to see and smell how fertile the soil was. When I kelt I noticed there was a path, a road that lead from my new property to the moon.  It was an incredible sight.  In disbelief, I stood up and noticed in the sky a red light coming toward us.  I knew this was the beacon for the mother ship.  I looked squarely into the light waving my arms over my head to flag the ship down. 

 

The entire ship came in closer as it materialized fully in the night sky.  I assisted it in landing on my new property.  I could clearly see all the details of the ship.  I was asked if I could smell their ship as if it smelled bad but I could not smell anything unpleasant. They then came out of the craft to greet me standing beside my bed.

 

My awareness came full circle again back to the now.  My name is Interpol he said it means communication. He then took me on another journey to see the school where I had received my education.  There I ran into an old friend named Mary.  We reminisced about her wedding where we were in the presence of our mutual friends.  I was carrying a backpack at the time with school supplies.  I was responsible for assisting with registrations at the school.  

 

My awareness came full circle again back to the now.  My name is Interpol he said.  

 

The whole night I could not move.  I couldn’t even move to grab my voice recorder so what I did is I kept repeating the details of the dream in my mind so that I would not forget.  It also helped that I needed to pee but I couldn’t get up for that either.  

 

The first unusual thing that caught my attention was his name, Interpol.  I had never even heard of it until I looked it up in Wikipedia.

 

INTERPOLINTERPOL is the world’s largest police organization. INTERPOL’s mission is to assist law enforcement agencies in each of its 186 member countries to combat all forms of transnational crime.  Its six areas of priority are: drugs and criminal organizations, public safety and terrorism, financial and high tech crimes, trafficking of human beings, corruption, and fugitives.

 

The second thing was the cigars and the issue of smoking.  I don’t smoke cigars or cigarettes.  Somehow I equate the smoke with peace, harmony and tranquility.

 

Cigars are often smoked to celebrate special occasion: the birth of a child, a graduation, a big sale.

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Smoky Truth

FireplaceLast night I had a dream where I am retelling my dream.  I am walking down my street that my house is on.  I stop to look at the beautiful landscape and the clear blue sky.  I notice the sky is too perfect and I become aware that I am dreaming.  Since I am retelling my dream I tell those with me that everything I see here even in it’s perfect appearance is an illusion. But then something catches my eye.  The neighbor’s house has changed.  It is bigger than before. My house does boarder their house.  I walk by the two houses twice to try to figure out how it could have changed.  Somehow I know this is not an illusion.  The homes are real.  

 

Now inside my house I pass by a tiled fireplace and something catches my eye in the reflection of the tile.  In the tiles reflection I can see the truth.   I can see who is actually in the room.  I can see both the physical and those invisible beings from other dimensions.  I am amazed.  I confront the other worldly beings those who are otherwise invisible except when reflected.  I show them that I am not afraid.  They are beautiful to look at.  I play and dance with them. 

 

My ex Michael comes over but he cannot see them. He is happy to see me, so happy that he has alas found me.  I too am happy to see him.  He stands out on the front porch to have a smoke.  While out there the other dimensional beings over hear him saying how much he still loves and wants to be with me.  They share this secret with me.