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index « nectar « ~ A thread of dreams ~


posted : 2005.Feb.04 @ 11.09pm
This morning there came a dream:


Falling Off the Tower of the Balance of Life

It was quite windy there, as I walked across a narrow path composed from scrap pieces of metal, strung out by steel girders, ~200 feet above an abandoned carnival town. Stepping onto a circular platform, I joined several others standing around, as more climbed on. Once a small group collected on the platform, we looked around to discover only one ladder and one firepole leading down.

Mrs. Eighties, a stripper wearing pink nylons and a black leather jacket, asked an overweight Newyorker fellow for a cigarette. He pulled off his funny hat, and produced a packet of cancer sticks, and handed her one, put one in his own mouth, and then lit them both up. The others fearfully huddled their arms together, and peered causiously over the edge of the platform.

Everybody up here was eager to get down off the platform, as the wind was gradually picking up, and the sun was about to set.

A question hung silently in the air:
"Well, whos going to go first?"

So one young freckled boy jumped onto the firpole, and started sliding down. By about half way his hands began to burn from the friction, emmitting fine smoke, as I watched from above. Quickly loosening his grip, his body started falling faster, and so he tightened the grip more, and they began to burn even more intesely, becoming red. Soon enough he reached the bottom and wiped his hands off on the side of his body, looking quite disgraced by the entire experience. He gave one final glare back up to the top of the tower, and started walking away towards a dense part of the ghost carnival town.

Next a teenage african girl stepped over the ladder, and grabbed hold of the firepole. With a very light grip, she fell very quickly, holding her legs tense and straight. Very quickly she bcame a little spec, and then suddenly a loud noise broke the sublte streaching of her hands on the firepole.

"CRACK"



Looking back straight up to the tower, a tear fell from her eye, and not realizing her legs were totally broken, she tried to walk away, though immeadiately collapsed into a heap of splintered leg bones and contorted muscles, which sort of oozed around in their own tensity, slowly carrying her away from the narrow base of the orange tower with extruciating pain.

Next up, a ditsy friend of Mrs. Eighties approached the edge with a fearful disposition. Wearing oversized yellow corugated thigh boots and a tight top, she stepped backwards onto the ladder, though keeping her eyes on her friend, neglected to look down at where her feet are, and so missed the top rung, and so suddenly started falling down, smashing her laced face on each step of the ladder, becoming painfully tangled up in the steps ~80 feet off the ground. She struggled to release herself, then continued to fall into the ground, where she landed with a splintering splat on her back. Staring at the top of the tower with a shocked look on her face, a trickle of blood ran from beneath the back of her head.

Next the pink stripper approached the ladder with dazed haste. Suddenly the vision of a bloody decapitation flashed before the collective vision.

"God, shes so stupid somtimes. Can't she even put her foot on the ladder? I can't beleive she did that."

And so concentrating with all her effort, she dropped her cigarette, stamped it out, then placing the arch of her high heels firmly on the third rung from the top, leaned backwards though forgetting about her hands. Then suddenly realizing that she was falling, she frantically reached both her hands out to grab the ladder, which pushed her back even faster, sending her plumetting towards the concrete below yelping a panic stricken scream. Headfirst and backwards, she struck the half-way point where the ladder attaches to the middle of the tower, and the gross velocity knocked her head right off, sending it bouncing away from the tower, her body fell straight to the ground where is landed, killing her wounded friend in an enormous splatter of blood, and crunching of bones. Her head bounced a few times, smashing into a deflated form, and then rolled about ~50 feet from the base of the tower, staring straight back at us through a hideously wrathful glare of pulpy lacerations.

"Oh my, I hope that doesn't happen to me."

The next was a plump asian fellow who solemnly stepped towards the ladder focusing on his breath. Successfully descending to the half way mark, he became eager to get to the ground, impatent with his breathing, and forgot the fragile nature of what he was doing, and so to speed things up just grabbed the sides of the ladder with his hands and slid down very quickly. By the time he reached the ground travelling very quickly, and his knees let out a crunch as though biting into cucumber, and his tender fingers were destroyed by sharp splinters of chunky rust coating the edge of the decaying ladder.

Shaking his hands in pain, patterns of blood painted the cold concrete, as the sun began to warm the barren wastland with orange vibes. He stumbled into the empty western ghost town in search of a doctor, unawaredly stepping on the maimed heap of the girls' legs.

Only the smoking NewYorker, a very young boy and I remained. Some shadow figures lurked in the background. The fellow with the funny hat, paced back and forth, murmering to himself:

"Oh boy. This is a tough one. What am I going to do about this one? Common Marv, think!"

So there I hung out on top of the tower. Now that the others had descended, all fear and wearyness in the psychic atmosphere dissolved into a lucid sensation of feeling as though I were running really fast and pulsing with energy- high on endorphines. Looking up past the tip of the tower and into the sky a deep portal opened up, projecting from my head. I grabbed onto a hinged piece of the tower and swung out over the edge, dangling there, looking down- filled with child-like excitment, expanding into an infinite sense of mystery.

Looking back up at the young boy, he innocently asked:
"So what are you going to do now?"


~ Razz ~









posted : 2005.Feb.06 @ 3.56pm
One fellow wrote a very good question in an email, asking:
I was reading the dream thread...in it you write about your Anima.
What, who, is (your) anima?


The Anima
... is an archetype well established in Jungian psychology.

The archetype of the Anima is a female form in the mind of a male, most often projected in sexual fantasties, or onto a wife or girlfriend. Females inversely project what is called the Animus.

This archetype upholds all illusion of beauty and attraction, and represents the feminine element of one's character, balancing masculinity. It is also the usher of creative forces and wisdom from the eternal center.


Third stage of the Anima's development
// In the emmotional cosmic landscape
There are 4 stages in the projection of the Anima, each level is transcended according to the level of psychic maturity of an individual:

"The first stage is best symbolized by the figure of eve, which represents purely instinctual and biological relations. The second can be seen in Faust's Helen: she personifies a romantic aesthetic level that is, however, still characterized by sexual elements. The third is represented, for instance, by the Virgin Mary- a figure who raises love (eros) to the heights of spiritual devotion. The fourth type is symbolized by Sapientia, wisdom transcending even the most holy and the most pure."
Man and his symbols, Carl G. Jung


It is this archetype which is causes the irrational attachment to and behavior towards sexual partners. Most people are conditioned so a whole part of their emotional landscape and psyche can only be unlocked when this person is present to absorb the archetype's projections, which unlocks energy to flow through the neglected regions of the psyche. Without this person one may feel incomplete, and elements of the mind become cold and barren, as we are eternally conditioned from beyond time to project this force outwards.

It is the force of this archetype which can be attributed to life's resilience to sexually propagate through the eternal moment of our primal ignorance. This continual outward projection of archetypes upon the external collective is the foundation of gross manifestation- the force behind the tension that motivates our eternal search for completion, which causes us to sexually reproduce.

The Anima often appears personified in dreams, at it's levels of development which need resolution. Because the force of this archetype weilds such a strong effect on our emotions, it holds the danger of unleashing immeasurable amounts of imbalanced attachment and mental suffering if it is not understood clearly.

Thus the goal of any person who wishes to be free from the attachment and suffering of imbalanced sexual relationships, is to find the life of this archetype within, so that it's character may be complete in it's origin, and embraced in life's actions. When the internal circuit is complete, our relationships can be perceived in a totally different light of un-attachment, dawning unconditional love and freedom from the bondage of time.

Because we are no longer conditioned to love a person for selfish reasons (to complete the archetypal projection) we can see and love people for who they actually are untainted by these volitions.







posted : 2005.Feb.09 @ 11.07am







posted : 2005.Jul.10 @ 2.16am
Into the outer : ness //
Here on an ornate flying boat
I crouch mindfully
with my back to an enormous zen tree.

The perfect pattern of dead branches
shooting out from beheath lush leaves like lightning
hide the gnarley bag slung over my back on a stick.

With my face hidden deep beneath a tattered paddy hat
I blend into the pattern like a chamelion,
perfectly still
so that the flying dragons overhead won't spot me.

A tall slender woman cloaked in white
gradually steers the flying wooden boat
into the docking bay of a sky palace
high above the misty city.

In the entrance-
draped in vegitation
hangs a green snake by string.

The white woman transmits a light message,
appearing in my vision like a crystalline screen-

"The snake is blind, though it can smell your fear-
be perfectly calm, and you may pass.
"







posted : 2006.Apr.03 @ 7.35pm
I finally remembered a dream Smile
... and, following Phong's advice, wrote it down .

I found myself walking through a Western neighborhood on a sunny day. There were houses to the left of me and vast fields and parks to the right. Many people were playing games in the fields, walking along the path I was on and getting snacky treats from little carts tended buy happy vendors on the house side. After a time I noticed a large white tiki mask propped up against a chain-link fence. A woman explained to me that there was a dance that went with the mask. I was captivated by it so I decided to take a self portrait of me and the mask with my camera.

As I went to set up the shot I noticed that the sky had become very moody. It was deep gold and orange with dark clouds that formed two sides of an arched portal with no top.... yet. I looked out across miles of farmland noticing the tiny silhouettes of trees and barns against this impressive sky. In the center of the cloud portal was a descending figure who landed on the ground where the light was brightest. I looked back at the mask and picked it up. It was very light. I remembered the sky and set the mask down and looked back. I took a photo. The portal was now completely round. I thought, "Wow. People are going to love this pic!" Then a steady stream of people came from the sky just like the first figure. As they pass by me I took more photos. They were all dressed in short togas made of colored silk, some with golden laurels in their hair, some holding flowing silk scarves over their heads as they skipped by like a happy parade of Greek gods.







posted : 2006.Dec.07 @ 5.43pm
A fairly recent dream...

Standing in a room overlooking the ocean, there I am facing my mother.
There are hardwood floors, a fireplace and the light of the late afternoon sun is outside...
Inside is kind of gloomy but nice. I turn ninety degrees to my left, and Alex Grey
who I never met in person comes into the room quite swiftly without glancing at me,
and goes to my mother, and says to me 'Is this your girlfriend? your mother? your friend? your grandmother?' and then he dives from the window into the sea and swims way out past the horizon. I am left bewildered with my mother and stir awake...







posted : 2008.Dec.21 @ 6.03am

just woke up from this awesome dream...  i was in a city somewhere, with high rises--muggy.. maybe chicago (never been though) and a buddy and i were jogging through the downtown core when my buddy veered off and approached a building i had heard about but never gone into.  it was 10 stories tall, and each level was increasingly ...GREEN.  apparently it had been bought by hippies / eco-freaks and they were converting the building from the top down into a highly productive farm (on level 10, near the dope communal hottub, greenhouses)...  really  nice folks in there, even as i did my usual walk-through-the-garden and eat greens like a deer (especially the purple mustard--oh god i love you!). 

 

what they were doing was converting the building from the top down, marking it with sweet art and waste water recycling, rain catching, all the sweet stuff, composting poopers, totems...  more later as the dream reemerges.







    

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