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And so it begins, Sarala
This is what I’ve been talking about, with me and you talking in Hypnagogia, sort of
This is a very primitive version of it, although I’d argue that unless properly trained it’s all very difficult to achieve
But, if you weren’t so stubborn, I could have already taught you how me and you can go anywhere we want in hypnagogia (even with my limited knowledge)
And I don’t mean just on this planet-although that’s possible
I mean anywhere in the universe
Understand that we are already in a dream state, this is an experiment, and me and you both (and others) willingly went into it, as volunteers, though I don’t know why or what for
And there are people alive right now who will be among the first to never die in the “traditional” sense, me and you will be among them, I promise
This all aligns with very ancient stories and teachings from Thoth, who lived for 36,000 years (or more) and ruled over Kemet (Egypt) and is still alive somewhere today
The Australian Aboriginals say we are in “sleepy time” and when we “die” that’s actually just when we wake up, and they’ve been saying that for thousands of years
But think of it like this:
When you’re deep asleep and dreaming, what happens when-in your dream-you get in a car crash and die, or get shot and die, or fall off a cliff and die etc
??
Basically when you die in a dream, your body jerks itself awake back to this “reality” which is just one level higher than your dream
When you fall asleep, you go one level deeper
So most people go back and forth between 2 levels and never go any deeper or higher
And that’s it, that’s basically death, and we’ve all experienced it
You’ve literally experienced death, Sarala
And the dream you died in, the people that existed in that “level” (who you interacted with)…to them you’re just as dead as anyone and can never come back, so they’re mourning you
But to you, you just jerk awake and think “wow that was such a weird dream” and 10 minutes later mostly forgot about it
That’s exactly what happens to people who die that we love.
To us, they’re “dead and gone” but really they just woke up and went up a level, and the next time they sleep and dream there’s almost zero chance they’ll be back here in our reality ever again
Now, imagine training yourself to be able to not only know (and accept) what’s going on, but to meditate so deeply you can go as deep or high as you want
Bhuddist monks do it to this very day
Hindus also do it
As do aboriginals in Australia and shamans in Africa and South America
It’s a very disciplined thing to learn and very difficult
But I’m dedicating my life to it, and I’d love to share what I have learned so far with you, and what I will learn in the future
You can train your conscious to go in and out of any level or “dimension” you want
And that’s where physics gets all these different dimensions from, that’s what it means-the multiverse. Multiple universes, or dimensions, or “level”
Call it what you like
As far as I know we are just randomly assigned to random dimensions, but we all have the capability to then visit any, which would be the bhuddist state of enlightenment or “Nirvana”
But the lesson here in this reality, is to learn that and utilize it to help bring others to enlightenment or “nirvana”, also know as “the golden age” which Egypt had achieved thousands of years ago and then taught the rest of the world, until greed crept in
Now, I’m aware of how fucking crazy and psychotic I sound-I really am
But think on it, and look up this experiment for yourself
(Picture attached)
And remember, next time you die or get injured badly in a dream and your body jerks itself back to this “dimension”…….it might have just been a fleeting dream for you, but you’re gone from that reality forever and there are people mourning you, and even though you may have only been asleep 7-8 hours, it could have been many, many years of time in the dream, depending on several factors, because time is relative
Sorry for the rant, and I’m sure there’s a bunch of spelling errors as well
But please, think on this information, I can’t do this alone
Sweet dreams, sweet girl
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You’re the women who taught me “Blood Science”
You’re the women who told me the story about the Britanica & Botanica
And you’re the woman who taught me that time isn’t linear, but a shape. A closed loop where we all meet, love, hate, and die
And then repeat.
Here is your birthday gift………
It’s not much but in return I give you my 3 poems, a small part of “she who sings to shipwrecks”
“Blood Science”
“Time is a shape”
And
“Britanica & Botanica”
All sonnets, mostly
As you know, my favorite poem ever is is a sonnet
“Ozymandias”
So, here is “blood science” which is about the science of *mostly* biology, but it’s a higher form because it incorporates electromagnetism and metals, which is what our human bodies-to this day-still run on. Electricity and iron and magnetism
…………………
Excuse my mess, but I am unable to complete blood science at this time
I do not know enough about blood science to post this poem at this time
I wanted to have all 3 completed for your birthday but my time and schedule didn’t allow it
So I’m moving on to “time is a shape”
…………………….
TIME IS A SHAPE
I met a woman-veiled in dusk-who said:
“Behold this circle carved in shadowed stone;
Time is no line that marches on the dead,
but bends, returning, to devour its own.
I loved you once beneath the ash of home,
I loved you next where burning kingdoms fell;
each vow we swore became a shattered home,
each kiss a torch that lit the mouth of hell.
Still here you stand, though centuries decay,
your eyes the same, though walls around us rot.
The world forgets, but we are made to stay,
ensnared in shapes that mercy fashioned not.
Look on our love, eternal, dark, confined:
a circle wrought of stone, and serpents twined.”
…………………
Britanica and Botanica
A story about two sister ships, both mighty and majestic ships in their day
One sank in an ocean….the other still parades passengers and crew around, proudly
Thousands of years ago
Who knows where the sunken ship is, and even more a mystery still…who even knows where the surviving ship is?
……..…………….
BRITANICA & BOTANICA
I met a sailor from a distant shore
Who spoke of sisters, mighty, forged of steel:
“One rules the Pacific, calm forevermore,
Her decks still shine, her engines ever wheel.
The other ventured where the icebergs roam,
Atlantic’s depths became her iron tomb;
Her shattered hull lies far beneath the foam,
A monument of silence, cold as doom.
And on her rusted bow, these words remain:
Behold our glory, made to never fall.
Yet oceans mock with tides that can’t be chained,
And Time, the breaker, laughs at human call.
The living sails, the drowned one sleeps below,
Two fates entwined, where seas eternal flow.”
(-“she who sings to shipwrecks”, by Eric Campbell)
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Happy birthday, Sarala. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, whether you believe it or not, and whether you care or not. I’ve said it many times, to many people-but I’ll say it again. Over and over until my death, when I am finally released from you, and fulfill the promise I made to you all those years ago………
I am glad you were born. If you ever feel like you wish you weren’t even ever born, just know that there’s a guy here in a corner of the earth who thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen-no matter how you see yourself
I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see your face again-fuck I don’t even know if you’ll get this-but that won’t stop me
I’ll do what I have to and fight through a thousand people to either get to you-or die trying
A couple days ago I finally got started on my arm tattoos that I have a plan with-to cover my entire arms-and I stared with these birds(one on each arm) and will grow it out from there over the coming weeks/months once I take time to sit down and really think about what I want, although I have a decent idea currently, I want to refine it more
But I’m starting with these, from a picture/drawing/painting you made for me 15 or so years ago
They aren’t complete yet, still need more shading/color
I love you deeply, and truly
Always be safe
Sweet dreams, sweet girl
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My love, Sarala…
I don’t know where to begin, so I’ll start with what’s true: I miss you. The days are long, the nights louder than any wind I’ve ever heard, and still nothing drowns out the quiet of your absence.
The ship smells of rot and men. The kind of stink that seeps into your bones. The sea has no mercy, not even for the innocent. The slaves below deck — you were right — they are not cargo. They are human. I see it every day in their eyes. Some no older than children. Some with eyes like yours: sharp, defiant, exhausted.
I do what I can, love. I bring them extra water when the others aren’t looking. I sneak bits of dried fish, bread and meat to the youngest. I speak to them — quietly. They don’t understand me, not always. But kindness needs no translation. And in their silence, I think they know I mean no harm.
But I cannot change what this ship is.
Some nights, I sit alone on the deck with your cloth in my hand — the one with the bird stitched in blue. I run my thumb over the threads until I forget where I am. I picture you at the machine, the baby pressing against your ribs. I wonder if the fire still crackles in the hearth. If you still sleep on my side of the bed. If you’ve told your father I left.
I see your face every time the wind turns cold.
And I remember what you said on the shore: that I must come back. That I must not leave you alone in this life.
I want to return to you. I want to hold our child in my arms, to smell the smoke in your hair, to sit by the fire and forget all of this.
I do not know if I will make it back. But if I do, know that it will be because of you. Because I made a promise — not with words, but with the choice to leave for you, for us. And now, I choose every day to survive for the same reason.
If this letter reaches you, then some part of me already has.
Yours, and no one else’s
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You know what’s terrifying?
We are floating on a ball of dirt and water through space floating around a huge ball of plasma, and barely anyone even wonders about that or what we are even doing here or how we got here
We just wake up and go to work and pay bills and taxes and some people take advantage of other people and we just all do that for 70-90 years and then we just die, and no one is even talking about it
When is the last time you had a conversation with anyone about what could be going on or you wondered what we are even doing here with someone?
And if you tried to discuss concepts like that with someone would they even think or wonder or care?
It’s just wake up, work, consume some entertainment to distract you and then sleep then repeat every single day
Then die
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Many years
And you loved it, and your people loved you
Some called you the goddess of fairness and love, because you did a better job at love than the actual goddess of love
That’s another story
Anyway, what set you apart from the other goddesses of justice and fairness is this:
You would let both sides talk , and you would not make a decision until the accused was also allowed to speak, versus the other goddesses who would usually side with whoever showed up first to complain, or siding with whoever had money and resources to offer
You were like a judge, who decided who’s guilty and not, and would give recommendations on how to handle certain situations (although the final decision was not yours, that was the decision of another, but to most, your recommendations were respected)
Well, respected by common people
In the god/goddess world, it’s an absolute nightmare
It has been for some time, and one day…
The gods would love to present themselves as perfect to the commons, and try to hard to cover up actions showing otherwise
And Oh, there’s many an action that proves otherwise
They fight amongst themselves
And one day, your sister, telling you about her love interest…approaches you
She talks about him
You gave her the advice to approach him, and present herself as beautifully as she can
You even told her to be a little “provocative” (use your imagination on that)
Well, he rejected her
She blamed you, because she followed your advice
She accused you of sabotaging her on purpose because you think you’re better, and in your ignorance (and your tendency to WAY OVERHELP people for zero reason)
You agree that you should’ve given better advice and in return, your sister asks you to help sabotage the guy who rejected her
And, oh, you’re the goddess of justice and peace and fairness
So you’re in the perfect position to be used like that, especially by family
And you find that extremely inappropriate ; you’re actually offended
But, you are so scared of confrontation, you agree to your sisters demands, and tell her you’ll help take care of the guy who rejected her
Your job is justice and fairness, not sabotage or taking sides
But, in the company of wolves, Sarala sits in silence
Your sister also has a better reputation with the rest of the family
And thus, this when my story “two sisters” picks up
The full title is “the war of the two sisters”
Although not my best, this story will somehow be the most loved
And that’s fine
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I have been thinking about this ever since you told me, every single day, every single minute
I said something and you said “well what do you expect, my mom used to tell me that kissing on tv was special effects cause you aren’t allowed to kiss someone unless you’re in love”
Sarala, that has bothered me ever since
It seems very innocent at face value, but it isn’t
It’s not innocent
Not at all
It’s very damaging
It damaged your future relationships with men
It changed how you see men, because your childhood you were just told it was “special effects”
Instead of telling you reality, and accompanying it with good advice…
Your mom decided to say some dumb bullshit “it’s just special effects”
I am speaking directly to your mom now:
Why would you tell your daughter that?
Was it religious?
You could’ve taught your daughter that men can be sweet and kind, if treated right
Not that men are “special effects”
Or that love is “special effects”
Your words and actions cause your daughters to feel sick, when they aren’t
They didn’t do anything
Your daughters didn’t do anything, so why would you put your insecurities and fears into them?
The Dream Cities…(Stories/Poems/Letters/Thoughts&Dreams) 