We Are All Thoughts of the Divine

 We are all thoughts of the divine.  Thoughts have a sort of body, a substance, and so do we.  But like solid things, we have a difficult time moving.  And I think the divine is ultimately all about movement and the dance.  So we, as thoughts, are sort of separated in a weird way from the divine.

So express gratitude for everything that appears on your path.  That makes you more attuned to the dance and the path.  And it sure does help with stress reduction as well.

And when my daughters and I are not making videos on Tic Tok, I have dreams.

Like I was in a restaurant with How You Doing.  And they turned into a Korean.  With a New Jersey accent.   Sort of pansexual Korean with short hair.  And JC was there any wanted to meet and talk about cats.  But How You Doing went inside and there was a bar.  Surprised it was open during COVID.  There was a $5 cover.

Now I wonder what that Korean aspect is wanting to tell me?

What should I be grateful for?

My Daughter has a Clown Face and I Wasn't Happy About it.

 My daughter MC was in some sort of detention.  Not clear where she was but I remember the sense of climbing out of something onto a large tree on a hill overlooking the panorama below.  I think I may have been in the car below coming to see her.   Of course, in this dream, things were a tad conjoined as I was also to some degree my daughter MC climbing the tree looking down at me driving below.  I don't actually remember driving below, just the idea that "the father" was coming below.

But I never arrived you see.  For then MC was back in what might have been detention and the nurse was the Latvian IrIv.  I remember MC looking at a card that was from her sister and her mother and myself signed with love, but at that point I was only MC and had no recollection of being "the father."  The card said something like "We Love You."  

Then later, while I was in another dream, I was telling the story of this dream.  This time I was me not MC.  I was "the father" or the waking "me."  I remember as I told the story, I was crying.  At some point I saw MC and she had a clown face.  It was eerie and to some extent sort of masculine.  This was bothering me and I think what was causing the crying.  It was interesting that in this other dream, I remember forgetting in my first dream (where I was more aligned as MC) that MC had a clown face.  The realization in my dream that I forgot that she had a masculine clown face in my first dream exacerbated my  distress to the point that I was just crying and could not tell the story of the first dream in the second dream.  I'm not sure how this all ended, but at some point, MC said that she "was out" very emphatically.  I wonder if that had to do with coming out of the closet?  Not sure.

  

Cat Scratch Fever

 I awoke in the middle of the night with cat scratch fever.  So I let my intuition guide me LMAO and I drove home.

I was Yin breathing.  Mazatech style.  Dr. Ray says open to the void, and I went into the darkness in my tanden.  And I opened up to everything.  Everything was the void, and I was breathing into it, like breathing into a vast aquarium that was reality.  And the reality, the aquarium was my breath.  I remembered thinking that this is what Elihu said when he talked about the practice of breathing into everything, or going big.

At some point the scene changed and I was experiencing my heart.  And it was locked.  And it was related to a concession stand and Kelly Walsh high school, at a basketball game in the early 1970s, where the band was playing "Shaft" or "Popcorn" or something like that and one of the high school kids in the band had an enormously swelled encephalitic head.   That was not a dream, at least I don't think so, but then I remembered a dream which was like 33 wine bar, and a restaurant in crowded square that I had never been to.  And the thought that this maze was no different than reality.  And that I had the choice to bring love and joy in, which I did.  And that joy was my intention going into this.  And the thoughts of Amy White suggesting that I dance with the channeled entity with joy.

And then came the little tune, the little nursery rhyme that comes in at the scary part of the journey.  And I immediately created space for it and wanted to hear it speak.  I told it over and over that I loved it.  And I realized that the joy that I could bring to this adventure was always always bigger than the fear.  Which is always true by the way.  Don't forget that douchebag.  

Then I remembered a very old dream I had.  So old that I had remembered it at various parts of my life.  Something about a house, which strange creatures and eating jello that makes you invisible.  

Then there was an experience of the immensity of it all, or sort of, but how we can only experience little fragments or packets of it.  Like little pieces of the divine sephirot.  But what do I know about that shit.  Then came Dr. Rays voice again, but of course it was going on the whole time, which is how I roll with these journeys these days and he was talking about the experience of our heart knows the past, present in future of all of our relationships.  So to know the heart, is to know what we are or what we will become.  And I thought that was kinda nice and wanted to remember it.  For that seemed to me is the highest bit of intuition.  And come to think of it, was kinda like that pre-cognitive stuff I was listening to last night on my drive.

The Deserted Classroom

 I think it was Thanksgiving.  I was in a deserted school.  There was a classroom that had all sorts of old information about me.  Not necessarily social security numbers, but old report cards, records of classes, dates of graduations etc.  The classroom was old and the writing on the wall was starting to fade.

Pete Daly was there, or maybe I was looking for Pete?  Part of me knew he was dead.  But I was still able to contact him.  He was in Texas.  There was a doctor there.  The doctor was telling me the results of his examination of Pete.  Pete had heart and lung blockages or problems.  I interpreted that to mean his chakras were blocked.  There is a lot of that going around, or so I'm told...lol

Sometime later in the middle of the night I became a channel.  This was a different experience than the dream.  It was showing me that the intuition and guidance I was seeking was buried deep in my body.  I could access it through all the debris.  It would be a long painful process and the shedding of many layers.    It might even result in the change of my work.  I wanted the divine guidance.  I felt the presence of something in the room and I wanted to turn and look at it, but the force of it would not let me see it.  It was pure white energy.  

Marigold Rye

 I was at Dbergers vineyard.  D. was talking to someone about his new whiskey which was called Marigold Rye because it had Marigold flower in it.  Doug was asking me if the Marigold had psychedelic properties.  I said it did.  I suppose I should look that up now that I am awake to see if that is correct.  Yep, "tagetes lucida"--used by the Aztecs for all sorts of interesting things.  Hmmm.

I actually lived almost across the street from the vineyard in the dream.  My car was gone.  Or at least all but the shell of it.  I thought that I must have blacked out the day before and left it somewhere.  Or wrecked it.  I wasn't so much concerned that it was gone even though I remembered that it was my new car, but I was more concerned that it was going to be a hassle to track it down and find out what happened to it or where it was.  As I walked into my apartment, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and saw that I had light brown hair and one of those short man pony tails.   I then looked outside and saw a futurist sheriff's car from Scott County, Illinois.  I remember thinking shit, they are coming for me because of something I did with my car.  But they left and it must not have involved me.

Then there was something even more strange.  Something about large animals being swallowed up by much smaller animals.  Almost accidentally.  Strange.

Waking up Ray Douhit(h).

 I was in a room, which resembled a college dorm.  I had a small bed near a door.  Behind the door was a man who never came out.  His name was Ray Douhit, or something like that.  Usually I don't remember names in dreams, so I suppose I should look this one up.  Just did.  Nothing that resonates. 

Anyway, I'm not sure why Ray Douhit never came out of his room.  Like some sort of Dickensian novel, and I'm not sure the door leading to his room actually led to anything.   Maybe he didn't exist.  I didn't like him there.  For some reason I was inclined to speak to him.  In a very raspy voice I called out to him, not Ray but "Raji".  It scared the shit out of him.   There was also a woman involved, but I don't remember that.  

The more I think about this, I wonder if I am the one who is haunting Ray, and not the other way around.  Do I ever come out of my room?  Its an interesting existential question I suppose.

Like the way station in that art bar down by the Mississippi.  Near the caves.  Where they play 70s music all night.  And drink semi-sweet wine.  A self induced purgatory to be sure.  Now who do you suppose I should haunt next? 

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