-------------- BEGIN dream-flow.v001.n056 --------------
001 - "Wilkerson, Richard" <rcw - monkey flesh
002 - [EMAIL PROTECTED] (Gerald - Another Vision of Hells!
003 - Victoria Quinton <mermaid - tolerance
Electric Dreams: Dream Flow
A fountain of dreams in Cyberspace
--------------- MESSAGE dream-flow.v001.n056.1 ---------------
From: "Wilkerson, Richard" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: monkey flesh
Date: Wed, 03 Mar 1999 23:05:01 -0800
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<bigger>Note: stan requests that his name and email remain with this
dream - Richard
DATE : 3 mar 1999 08:08
DREAM : monkey flesh
=( still behind in course preparation, i spent most of the evening
writing a couple lab sheets for the web programming classes coming up in
a couple weeks. i also have a midterm from last friday to grade, two
programming assignments to process and the www design course needs
evaluations done on twenty web sites created by the students. all this
to be done in the next three days. i quit any serious work around 0100,
being mentally fatigued, but could not get to sleep until about 0300. i
read magazines to unwind for a couple hours. )=
it is sometimes strange the things we do for friendship. i think this
looking up at john hunter's apartment. it is a collection of scaffolding
and platforms suspended by chains from the ceiling of warehouse, some
forty meters above us. about four stories i would guess. porter
welbourne, my high school chum, have stopped in here to visit with john
as he has been asking us to stop by and see where he has moved.
john is just stepping away from his car after a day at work. he has
parked in the dusty area near the large open door of the warehouse.
there are several other cars parked there besides ours. he looks glad to
see us as he approaches. "i have some things i want you to try." he says
to porter as he comes up.
as we approach the base of the scaffolding where some slat stairs start
the climb up, a young pretty woman comes out from around the pipes.
"john" she says with a quavering voice. "didn't you really love me? you
said you did but now you never return my calls." she has a thin waif
look about her, like winona ryder. her short dark hair trembles with her
voice as she stares back at john.
"i gave you everything i could. my virginity meant something to me. you
know that and you took it anyway."
john swallows hard, obviously uncomfortable. "i know. but it was not
working out for me... for us." he stammers, looking around as if for
escape. "i thought with intimacy our affection would grow deeper, but
instead it merely completed them so nothing remained. i did not know
this could happen. always before, sex made things better." he avoids
looking at her, but it is obviously that this confirmation of her fears
has stung her. she turns away without saying anything further. i want
to say something that may help or console either of them, but i can not
think of anything that does not sound like a platitude.
"well, that sucks." says john with resignation. "let's go on up." he
and porter start up the stairs. i go over to the girl and touch her on
the shoulder. she turns around, tears washing out of her over large
eyes.
"i know this sounds hard right now." i say, butting in where i have no
business. "some things do not work out as we would have them, and
sometimes we carry those consequences with us for the rest of our lives.
but even then, it does eventually become easier again. a love that was
lost never really heals, but we go on to discover other things. maybe
not love exactly, but something at least to while away the time. these
things never seem to mean as much without that one who was lost, but they
do mean something at least. it is possible to bear these wounds several
times over. eventually the hurting stops, and we just go on." i am not
sure what import these sentiments are supposed to carry, but something
resonates in me for her plight. she sniffs hard and looks away.
i start up the loose stairs. the girl hurries by me. "i left something
up there that i want back." she says, showing me the way up. the stairs
end quickly and we have to take ladders and sometimes use the scaffolding
poles directly. it does not seem to matter which path you choose as it
all goes up to john's living quarters at the top. "well, this is not so
difficult." i lie as the structures start to sway slightly as we get
higher and the additive tolerances of each lower joint gives play to the
upper regions.
"this part is not so good." she tells me without affect, hopping across
a void to a platform which is suspended from the roof rather than
supported from below. the drop if you miss the landing over there would
easily break bones, if not kill you. i jump over. the platform is
surprisingly solid and the jump viewed from this side no longer looks so
big. i feel a small surge of gratitude for being now inside john's
place. i suppose you would get used to this after a while, like living
in a tree house.
since there are no walls to the various levels of floorings and chains,
we can see all across the living spaces. john and porter are a couple of
stages up over to one side. john gives her a patient,
we-can-still-be-friends look with little hope in his eyes. the woman
looks away, finds a small stuffed animal near the slightly rusted kitchen
sink. she gives me a tear moist kiss on the cheek, probably to display
bravado more than anything else, and starts down the scaffolding.
the various platform levels sway just barely when i walk from one to
another, but not enough to feel infirm or to threaten balance, just
enough to give a curious tingle. john hands me a hash pipe when i get
over to them. i take a couple puffs and it tastes really thick. "i want
you to try the monkey meat." he says. "i do not know how they treat it,
but it is really psychedelic."
porter has already sampled the recreational confection and has a large,
slightly enhanced smile on his face, like he has heard a joke that no one
else has understood yet and he is anticipating them doing so. with a
mischievous twinkle in his eye, he leaps off the platform into raw space.
i startle, thinking he will fall to his death, but instead he hooks his
arm into the wheel of a bicycle hanging a little way over and swings back
and forth over there. he looks happy.
john has taken up two cubes of freeze dried meat from a work bench. he
breaks open the plastic shrink wrap of one. the meat is heavily marbled
white and brown, not at all what i would have expected. i had supposed
primate meat to be rather lean. with some difficulty, john slices off a
wafer thin piece with a knife. "do this in remembrance of me." he says
with a smile, placing the wafer on my tongue. it has that dry bland
taste of a eucharist. i let it dissolve in my mouth.
rather quickly i get a buzz. that peripheral tingly sensation and slight
dryness of the palate. this is not an overpowering debilitation of some
drugs, just a nice background glow strumming along the nerves, augmented
by every movement and thought. i think we should have some interesting
conversations with the leaps of free associations when the normal
constraints of social expectation are eased. i wonder what they fed
these monkeys in zaire, or where ever this neurologic spice came from.
they eat green monkeys in nigeria, i recall.
like a kid with a new toy, john looks at me as the psychedelic glow
spreads from my eye to everything around. a slight layering of neon
colors added to everything i see. "come see my pet snake." he says,
dragging me over to another 'room' platform. this one has many lush
foliage plants in brass pots. i can almost see the bronze vernier
tarnishing in the atmosphere.
john starts preparing a large capsule of thick white liquid, like the sap
of a milkweed plant. once he has closed the drippy capsule, he places
into the mouth of a large albino constrictor curled up in the corner. as
the snake swallows its vitamin capsule, i can see a light coming from out
of its mouth which seems to extend a long way down its throat. the snake
makes an angry hiss looking at me like i am not supposed to see the
mystic fire at the center of its soul.
the white snake comes over to me and coils once around my body. i am not
worried as it will quickly discover that i can be trusted with its
secrets. the scales on its body are unexpectedly large and rough, the
white having a yellow tinge up close. perhaps the yellow is from the
drug, i can not tell. i scratch its head, but then realize that
scratching is a pleasure sensation to mammals, not reptiles. i massage
the muscles behind its jaw and the creature puffs up with delight.
"we had to amputate its fangs" john tells me. "this species has a venom,
unlike other constrictors." i can see where the end of its snout has
been cruelly cut off. that may explain the snake's anger at me watching
it eat. my curious fingers sooth the blunt ends of its mutilated mouth,
almost on their own. my index finger picks up a slight scratch from one
of the other teeth in the snake's mouth.
"are you sure it was venom that was poisonous or just the saliva?" i
look at the scratched finger, a little worried. i know that vipers with
hollow injection fangs have evolved selective toxins while it is just the
saliva with gila monsters.
=( i awake at 07:39, glad to be up so early, ahead of the alarm by an
hour. the odd euphoria of the drugs remain with me once awake, and i lay
there enjoying the feeling for about ten minutes. it seems good to get a
recreational buzz without actually taking any chemicals to achieve it.
this false high does not last very long, returning me to normal
consciousness. porter welbourne was a high school friend, now a medical
doctor. i rarely hear from him. this john hunter was one of my best
friends for a few years in amherst, but he abruptly quit me and later
married my last wife, sheila, when she divorced me. there was not any
romantic connection between them when i was around, as they said they
tolerated each other because i cared for them both. they seemed to click
as soon as i was out of the picture. john did live in an apartment above
a garage, but it had normal walls and furnishings. )=
</bigger>
. [EMAIL PROTECTED]
=== qui non est hodie cras minus aptus erit
| | who not is today, tomorrow less suitable will be
--- -- Ovid _Remedia Amoris_ i 94
--------------- MESSAGE dream-flow.v001.n056.2 ---------------
From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] (Gerald D'Aoust)
Subject: Another Vision of Hells!
Date: Thu, 4 Mar 1999 09:20:34 -0800 (PST)
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Dear Dreamers,
this following dream is another vision of Hells or actually of a
presence in Hells which was posted at Waking World a while back.
It shows the same place of which was overflown by Victoria on the
Psychopompos.... but here we get a closer look and feeling...
A Disturbing Dream...What Does it Mean??????
This entry submitted by Black Rose on 7/8/97.
I am under water that is clear, holding the man I love. We are not drowning,
we do not need to breathe. He is saying something. Then we are floating.
Then there is fire everywhere. He is being pulled into the flames, so am I
but we are being pulled in opposite directions. Then there is fire all
around me. It is hot... it seems that this is my fault. Where is he??...
************
Where the Hell are we? :D
...the verdict of this dream is clear... these people have committed
something which hurted lots of people in their familial surroundings.
Can anybody see what they did?
In any cases, Hells are Hot... Fire Consuming Hot! :)
Oh! don't worry, I also have pleasant visions of Heavens too... but the
pleasant visions of Heaven are not the ones influencing people at doing
good... they are the ones of Hells... where souls and the ghosts bodies risk
to suffer for eternity. :)
"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but who cannot kill the soul.
Rather, be afraid of the one who can destroy both soul and body in Hell."
(Mat. 10,28)
Thank You,
G�rald
PS:Take the time to check the following out...
"For God speaketh once, yea twice, yet man perceiveth not.
In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in
slumberings upon the bed; then he openeth the ears of men, (terrifies them
with warnings) and sealeth their instruction.... to preserve his soul from
going down into the bottomless pit."
"His flesh wastes away to nothing, and his bones, once hidden now stick out.
His soul draws near to the pit and his life to the Messengers of Death."
(Job 33, 21-22)
"Yet if there is an angel on his side as an "Interpreter"(of dreams), one
out of a thousand, to tell a man what is right for him, to be gracious to him
and say,
"Spare him, from going down to the pit; I have found a ransom for him."
...then his flesh his renewed like a child's; it is RESTORED AS IN THE DAYS
OF HIS YOUTH."
(Extracts from Job 33,15-25... but I would recommend everybody to read the
whole of Job 33.)
--------------- MESSAGE dream-flow.v001.n056.3 ---------------
From: Victoria Quinton <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Subject: tolerance
Date: Fri, 05 Mar 1999 12:45:21 +1100
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Is there anything in the Bible about Tolerance, Kindness and Love????
Victoria Quinton
[EMAIL PROTECTED]
http://www.alphalink.com.au/~mermaid
--------------- END dream-flow.v001.n056 ---------------
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