The next dream was revelatory enough; however, it is what occurred prior to sleep which proved most intriguing. At the time, Merlin was passed some six weeks. The events prior to sleep occurred while I reclined in the pyramid – a photo of which appears on this blog – preparing for dream-saturated sleep.
That the events which transpired prior to sleep were not imagined or occurred in the dreamtime were validated by what I discovered on awaking, hours later, when heading into the living room of my Cabbagetown home. I readily understood the goings on.
Near the centre of the living room floor was a philodendron which Morag O’Hoare had presented Merlin years earlier. As she had proven herself a vile coward and betrayed a decades-long friend, I was not surprised by this display of Merlin’s formidable will. Merlin on his passing wanted to articulate his intention that this woman be in no way characterised as anything other than the fraud that she ever was.
The rather shamanic unfoldment and dream that followed occurred on Friday, January 5, 1990 while the Moon transited both Aries and my eleventh house. Naturally, I righted the Chi of my home with Glenn Gould’s interpretation of J. S. Bach Goldberg Variation played at full blast. A most magical fellow, indeed, was Merlin.
*I had a great deal of trouble trying to fall asleep tonight. Just as when Merlin would pay me that visit just after his passing I felt a strong sense of astral energy in the apartment.
At one point, as I laid here in the bedroom with an acute headache at my temples, I had a sense of there being something amiss in the living room. I chose not to get up and investigate.
The cats too were my trusty canaries, as they behaved most strangely, and were afraid to go out to the living room. At one point, Whoopi came to join me in the pyramid and tried to pull the covers off of me while I pretended to be asleep. There was definitely something afoot and at no point did Whoopi purr.
There was next a loud violent crash in the living room. On awakening the next morning and going to visit the living room, I found that the philodendron which Morag O’Hoare had given to Merlin was crashed near the centre of the living room floor. It was nowhere near the mantelpiece where it was perched.
I saw no way for it to have landed so far from the fireplace. What was even stranger was the fact that all the otherthings that should have beenaffected by it were undisturbed.
The large Richard Owen drawing over the mantelpiece was undisturbed, not even tilted off its centre, considering that the philodendron had for years snaked over the top and back of the large painting.
The African figure was undisturbed as was the bronze African head. None of the other plants, about which the philodendron snaked, were disturbed. I was not surprised really, at that point, in light of what else had transpired. The crash had sent Zora bolting to the kitchen and Whoopi, Zora’s feline sister, sort refuge by taking to the closet in the bedroom.
Next, my body became bloated and began undergoing the same displacing splayed energy and healing work as when I had beenconsciously dreaming yet spatially aware of my body when Merlin had walked me through that reparatory energy work session.
This time, as I lay now in the pyramid on my left side and faced out to the hallway, there was an enormous pain at my left armpit. I had again lost all motor control but unlike before, I was not simultaneously consciously dreaming.
I was fully awake but partially as though paralysed. I had no way to move my arms. I felt stretched out and it seemed that space and time became a slow-motioned mélange of syrupy motion.
I kept my eyes closed because there was such a strong force inthe room about me. I was afraid to open my eyes. Slowly, I began feeling myself projecting out of my body through the crown of my head but snaking back on myself to stay within the confines of the pyramid’s force field. The process was extremely excruciating.
I wanted it to stop; I was half in and half out of my body. The energy drain from the left armpit was more intense than during the last session. I just wanted to be rid of the pain. I thought to open my eyes so as to end the experience or protest its occurrence.
However, a loud voice boomed in my head which left me even more paralysed. The voice was more felt than heard. I was told to not open my eyes because, if I were to,I would not be able to recover from what I would see.
Basically, I would have seen my soul itself and it was not an energy source that my mind would have been able to fully assimilate without going mad in the process.
I did not open my eyes. Basically, my higher self told me not to do so. The tone was very James Tramble-like; the voice’s essence, in that sense, was like James Tramble’s but was not his.
There was a sense of going forward in slow motion and I felt my body actually undulating as though an aqueous wave of energy. I was as if flying very slowly through a very dense aqueous medium. Quite simply, it was very nice.
The energy drain continued further. I then took my body and forcefully tossed it over onto my back. That took a lot of willpower and energy. I kept my eyes tightly shut and then forced my way back over again and onto my right side.
At that, I had a sense of being on the phone to Niles Ben-Daniel and he was reading a paper and he was deliberately playing very vague and absentminded. There was a lot of silence and I didn’t like the whole thing and didn’t want to be on the phone with him.
There was a lot of static on the phone and, not surprisingly, some definite interference. What’s more, it was fairly obvious that there was much more going on in this phone call than the physical appearances and mechanics that the call suggested.
There was a large empty silence, at which I did say to him that I loved him, which created awkwardness in him. The conversation immediately wrapped itself up.
The interesting thing about this episode was that unlike a dream, I was not dreaming and there were no images as such being perceived and experienced. This frankly was a very psychic, occult, astral plane energetic experience. END.
Dream one. Also, I had a conversation with Olaf Gamst and I was on the toilet seat, next to the red drapes by the bedroom window. He was talking about really enjoying himself when we fuck and, he suggested, next time we ought to ask Lars Gamst to join us.
I was just listening to him and smiling to myself; I thought that I didn’t care because I just assume that everyone is Gay. I added that, if I wanted to, there is nothing to stop me from going out and having a child.
I added that I think that this too was Lars’s choice. I pointed out he was loving – when he chose to be and with whomever he chose to be – because he doesn’t choose to compartmentalise himself like his father did.
Therefore, Lars swings, I pointed out. While being very lucidly awakened in this dream, this was an interesting piece of insight to have simultaneously gleaned.
© Arvin da Braga 2014