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Sharing dreams brings oneness with the world
Since I've been writing on Unknown News, people write back to me about the dream essays the most. They seem to like them best. I guess because, by telling someone who hardly knows you about your dreams, it brings you closer together. A small common bond has been established, a door has been opened that says 'come in'. The reader says to himself, I feel comfortable reading this, and automatically wants to share or write about his or her dreams. There is no longer an uncomfortable feeling, and no pressure, just a feeling of oneness with the writer.
In the great majority of my dreams I time travel to another side, and visit strange, weird, sometimes nice people. It's become a regular thing to see the future with them and through them. I have witnessed a great many earth changes caused naturally and by mankind. I have had both good and bad experiences and consequences, as I had in the death dream. I will go back briefly about this one --
In this dream I become another person (so although I'm using the first person I, keep in mind I am her) from another country. I speak what sounds like Hindi, my family speaks Hindi too, and we are all dressed in some form of traditional white clothes. I'm the one who hears the high-pitched whistling noise through the phone, as I'm speaking to a friend. The sound is so loud I immediately drop the phone to the floor and run to get my family. They are close by, and I take them into one room in our small house in the village, where we cover our heads with the blankets on one huge bed. We hear a loud blast, and this is when I feel a burning sensation all through my body. It is very quick, the pain goes away fast, and now it has been converted into immense energy.
I am no longer a body of solid mass. I have been turned into a mist of translucent powder particles, but at the same time I feel elongated, like my hands and body are growing, stretching. I rise like a giant into the highest part of what seems like sky going right up to the stars slowly rising.
I am saying, "Come with me, people, do not be afraid, it's OK." My hands and fingers are not visible but I am aware of them because I want to touch the other beings and take them with me. I look down and all I see are tens of thousands of these powder-like crystals, floating and clinging to me as we make our way into the starry apogee.
The astral plane is the best. You are one with animal, bird and machine. You morph into and out of it, but you don't feel it at all, so swift, so cool, so easy and free.
I never ask questions. What is told to me is usually what my subconscious wanted to ask anyway. I have come to accept this form of dream travel as a normal event in my life. It's been happening to me since I was a little child.
I started keeping the dream book two years ago, and I will finish it when the time comes. I'm not in a rush. The third eye and the solar plexus are always involved in these adventures. We know so little about the pineal gland and the hormones it secretes during dream sleep and out-of-body experiences and even meditation.
There has only been one new chapter in my dream experiences recently, and that was with 'Dream Traveler'. I have heard people speak about automatic hand writing -- that's where a person writes through a person who has been dead, believe it or not, but this was certainly not that.
When this happened to me, it was during a light short sleep in the afternoon in the winter. I dreamed I was a long distance runner with a mighty amount of endurance. Here I was, this woman with will and determination to get back to my family and regular way of life. It was not my mind nor was it my body, I was in her mind, her determined mind, and while in this dream state I put my rifle down, took off my dusty boots, and replaced them with running shoes, got up and started to run in the desert The desert crossed over to a suburban wintry wonderland, where I ran, as I said in that old essay, with exuberance. At times my feet were not touching the ground below me. I was in flight-run, zipping and weaving through the snowy streets.
All of a sudden I was talking to myself, saying, "Here I come, honey. I'm coming home to you and the kids. It won't be long, it wont be long now, just a few minutes. I can see our house, our front door, and into your open arms I will run..."
The joy overflowed in my entire body. My brain rang with excitement. As I came to a curb at a street crossing. I became so airborne that I flew across the entire street, and landed in a hammock, back in the desert, dressed in tan khakis, half awake and half asleep with a sadness in my heart and my dusty boots still on. When someone shook me and offered me a lukewarm bottle of water, I ran my fingers through my short blonde hair, closed my eyes, and woke up at home in my bed, in my body, looking at my alarm clock!
I knew right away, that was not me in that dream I had three years ago. I was in someone else's dream -- I have long brown hair, and I hate to run.
Happy dreams... Make them count, write about them!
Kathy
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Re Art Bell hung up on me
Well, it didn't take Art Bell long last night. It began with the first open lines caller and I'm quoting here: ''My name is Matt, Art, and I just wanna tell ya I agree with you and everything you said about 911 and I don't think our president or any other presidents wanted to see our buildings get 'bombed' but I think it's a shame that these workers that went down there breathing all those toxic fumes and the dust and THE government's not doing a whole lot to help them out''.
Then Art chimes in, ''Well, ya know what surprised me, and I was talking to somebody else earlier today about that, it's, ah (pause) that, ah, if you recall correctly, um, about, oh, it was within hours, literally within hours of the 911 disaster, they were saying oh the air, the air is fine. Now, that's crazy! Let's think about this for a moment, folks. Buildings containing a lot of asbestos, a lot of, just unmanageable amounts of chemicals burned, crash infected, the air it, was so thick, ah, that breathing apparatus was required, and with in a day or two THE government was saying oh, oh, the air's ok. Well as we all know now there have been substantial numbers of people who have come down with terrible lung disease from breathing that air and I just don't understand how they could say the air was ok. Maybe somebody did some measurements somewhere and it said it was breathable, I don't know, but It's quite a stretch. Even I have a very difficult time believing that all was well. Just, literally, what, 24-48 hours after the buildings came down? No way! First time caller, you're on the line'' What do you mean, Art? What are you insinuating -- that our/your government would lie to us concerning anything about 911 that might make civilians sick and die by the thousands? Why, Art Bell, if you think that about the country you live in, I think you should leave on the next flight out!
In between they was a compassionate plea to ''put yourself in our President's place, if you were facing a country about to get a nuke, like IRAN! what would you do?''
Gee, he never mentioned his president just bought off North Korea, virtually paid TRIBUTE to them. Kind of slipped his mind I guess. Then there was this dear sweet lady.. ''Hello Art I would like to say I respect you and love the way you listen to your guests. You ask the same questions we would ask, great segue for Art to say ''Thank you, that's a pretty high compliment indeed!''
Then right before he goes into a break he starts to talk about people who disagree with him and automatically conclude you're bad at what you do. Now what was that about and what in the world does that have to do with being a rude host to your callers who just might disagree with you?
What does that have to do with you, Art Bell, telling people to leave the country if they happen to convinced by an overwhelming bit of evidence (evidence sent by the ton to you I might add!) that some of the people who run the country were behind getting 3000 civilians killed on 911? Just because you refuse to look at it doesn't mean it's nonexistent!
Kathy
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Some people stop and think, others can't stand it. Some people can and do stop and think about some things, but can't bear to stop and think about other things. Looks to me like Art Bell's in the latter category. Disappointing, but I like to believe there are plenty of other people whose minds are still open enough to be reached ...
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Helen & Harry
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