The lesser quality continuation and other dreams from last night
The two became separate and everything devolved from there into the mundane. One of those three children grew into a beautiful woman with long white-blonde hair but she was sickly, in the wrong environment. Harmony was not present while the male and female were separate. They'd gone different ways with the intent to reunite. Her head was misaligned with her torso and she could not hold herself up. Her head lay propped up on a table to the side.
She had a daughter from a loveless union. She was a whore. The daughter hovered between and then floated out of this realm of reality. There was not enough "coincidence" or energy in this context in this life to sustain her. Beyond the border was a solemn garden, feeling-less judgement-less yet compassionate presence encompassed the garden. "Guardian." Green with a clear sky. Motionless. Some maroon flora. There was a small window of time, three seconds, to recapture her. It passed without anyone making a movement.
Then it moved("folded") again. Only this time for her mother. She was taken as well. And then the mother's mother as well -- sort of. The mother and daughter were combined in essence.
Meanwhile the original male-female-and-me were trekking through the fantasy land. Questing something. Trying to uncover some plot before others did. Grasping at things unknown. We were in a brown stone sanctuary with orange flames lighting it. A large circular space on the floor with concentric carvings. A throng on either side of the space, seated in pews. Reminiscent of a mini-colosseum. Exits suddenly sealed behind us. This meeting place was meant for us. We were trapped here just as we saw a vision of the female wavering on the edge, chosen by the garden and folded into it. We were not there to take her back. (The meaning behind taking her back was having people who wanted her here in this moment, who called her to BE, through their own energy and will.) But we were sealed off from her. Here now was the scheme and the people we had been chasing the entire time and we'd played right into their hands.
I am guessing our togetherness was a problem for our conspirators. Strong energy. A pooling of energy and will causes reality to bend around it. Perhaps it interfered with their intentions.
A bargain was made. A competition was to be held. Only the victor would be allowed to leave and all other participants would be confined to this sanctuary forever. Winning would save the female.
Although she was trapped in a limbo as the daughter, she also participated in the contest as the mother. The contest was for how perfectly each participant could cut a block of wood. The wood had a beautiful grain which shone itself in different ways for the wielder's tools. The male had an axe, symbolizing strength and simplicity. The female had her hands and something associated with spheres. The female came in 3rd place. The male...1st. The pair was allowed to leave, adorned with abilities and jewelry/weapons through their exit. Two abilities, one of particular importance. And of course the female's safety was instantly returned.
Image of the male and the axe. Yellow. Female and her hands. Purple? Green?
On a plane. Plane crash. We were a part of of the filming of Breaking Bad. The main character was there for a moment. I extended to feel his presence, curious. He was both the IRL actor and character at once. Many names. So celebrated but he did not wear any of that esteem in his identity. Just himself. Twice the same scene played out. He laid curled up beside/underneath some wreckage. We all (all passengers of something? people in a theater?) gathered to glimpse his crumpled form. Even in his brokenness and nothingness he was something to behold. That curious contrast between non-concrete identity and strong presence. The question in everyone's mind was "Is he dead?" I knew it did not end here. He was still alive.
I was there as the male/female of the ongoing dream.
****** had a circular house in ******. My family had a circular house too, but it did not suited us. It was built on the grassy island in the middle of a street. It was night and the lights were on. 30-40% of the house was composed of a circular wall of slanted windows. The space inside was lovely but did not suit us. Green tile floors. Wicker furniture with red and tan designs.
I was at ...
Unsure if this is from last night:
Shipyard. Night. Many workers. I was one of many. Fluorescent orange lights reflecting off the brown rusty metal structures jutting out of the water. Think bridges and cranes. Intricate bolted beams like the Eiffel Tower. I climbed up one to a platform above the water. Intention for suicide or maybe it was a farce. Then I was another person below, beckoning that person down. Others don't notice or care. Jaded. A note in hand, or important trinket. We were all kids. Teens and young adults. Something fun and mischievous in the night despite being chained to a poor and miserable livelihood. Something about the barrels of chemicals. Going to school at M**E (college) during the day. I did not belong there. I was a poor worker from the shipyard and had to sneak in or sacrifice/risk something important to me as collateral.
Getting into M**E. Many people gathered before the gates in long lines in the cold grey morning. The gates stood at least a story above water level, which is where we stood as we waited. From the story above poured waterfalls, though tamed and directed through the city. On either side of the falling streams of water stood giant statues, solemn figures. Where there weren't streams there were escalators. Dim grey to match the sky. Just faint salmon in the sky. The statues and water were also colorless. There may have been some traditional flights of stairs too.
Getting inside meant sneaking in with the rush of people. Traditional locking metal gates with gatekeepers. Entrances at the top of each flight of stairs.
Inside the campus was spread out. You wouldn't know you were in the midst of a busy city. It seemed to be early spring. Still marks of snow around.
A building of old stone.
Another building preludes by columns and overhangs outside. Inside it was glossy and black. Nighttime. My father's office. Other professors' offices. Library. Dim lights here and there in the hallway. Energy of night. The school was mostly deserted but there were still people around.
During the day in the library there is a librarian (not any of our irl librarians) who keeps a watchful eye on the use of the computers and library materials. She's always watching me.
A polar bear or something of that sort near a little house in the hills, still part of campus. Overlooking the water, where the sun rises. Where the people come from in the morning.
ANYWAYS. I say all that because I returned to this place in this dream. I went to the library at night. It was deserted.
Inside I laid my head down at one of the computers. Earlier I'd been working on something while there was activity here. Different libraries on either side of a sky-walk. Now it was just this one place in the dark.
The only light came from some blue LEDs on the computer, though the screen was off. There were two "dials" of lights that lit up in a half-circle. I was lazily watching one of the dials. They were typically used to indicate volume and messages in the process of being typed and completed, but I wasn't thinking much. I was watching it, aware that I was moving the dial back and forth, electricity of my mind/body. I was feeling what it feels like to do that. Slowly pushing it further. Until it POPPED! A zapping sensation somewhat. I woke up thinking I had zapped my phone under my pillow or that it was rining, but nothing was different. The after-shock feeling lingered in my head a moment before I went back to sleep.
I am back at the library during the day. There is a boy there that watches me and I dislike it. I am typing on the computer with Raven. I am trying to project my feelings to her, aware that this is a dream, relieving her of anxiousness at me not sending her letters or calling her.
We are at my house in my garage. This is the third time I've called her on the phone and I am gladly reminding myself this is a dream so I won't really need to pay the expensive fees. She tells me she wants me to call her. Also write to her, obviously. I still haven't managed the clarity to relieve her panick or anxiousness. I let it be.
We go into the front yard and she tells me how she wishes for me to make a video game or virtual reality to mirror this. She shows me white noise, visual and auditory. The experience of walking down our street blind in this sensation.
I fly up to the roof. Familiar. I've done this in another dream. Unsure if she follows. Perhaps she changes form. I think or speak about how I started flying in dreams.
There is a female. There are different versions of the same thing. A watery blue alter with red flowers. Slight variations in color and feeling.
I decide to get up.
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