DLB 13 Inception: The Mars Journey

In this blog I am publishing a journal entry that I made some months ago on a very particularly powerful dream I had. I keep feeling compelled to try and expand and complete this dream I had previously failed to capture in detail using ink. Memory has served me well enough though to preserve so much of it and so again I will attempt to share it without looking back...

The dream took shape and I believe I was in a small town similar to Carlton, Oregon, a place I spent several years growing up during my adolescence.

I was traversing rooftops in a mischievous attempt to cause an altercation between some hoodlums that had earlier bared me ill-will. Suddenly, there was cause to leave, perhaps I was successful or perhaps they noticed me. Whatever the case I descended from the rooftop and made my way to the intersection nearby. A white pick-up truck with a man picked me up and began heading to the countryside. For what reason I got into the truck or how is lost to the ether.

The journey had just began and, much to my captivated interest, I took quick notice of a bright "shooting star" moving in the daylight sky which had I had become accustomed to from some of my prior dreams. Gazing upon this star like object placed me in, what has at this point become a usual state of mentally jarring awe. It's the only way I can describe this sensation which has occurred in dreams previous which signified a "visitor" had entered my dream to convey possibly some message with me.

Still traveling in the truck I watched with contentment as this "shooting star" proceeded forward and a large armada of seemingly military space vessels that began to materialize into existence. Simultaneously an equally intimidating and opposing armada of military space vessels of definitively different origins had all appeared within short distance from the star.

 

A Ship Similar to the Show Firefly

 

Conflict appeared inevitable and just as it appeared all hell would break loose, a small vessel broke away from one of the armadas and swooped directly next to the truck. It slowed down and kept pace with the truck. The vessel was so close to me I was able to make out who the pilot was... "It's me? My future self perhaps?" It maneuvered and I was somehow taken aboard from the truck with ease and quickly whisked into another reality.

 

The impending ominous battle of the two giant armadas was finally erupting at our back as I was being flown away into space. The journey was short as memory goes and we soon we were coursing above and through an immense city of technological superiority that appeared far superior to human capability on earth. It featured several curved and cylindrical engineering marvels of typical science fiction fashion. Tube structures for transportation connected to several structures and flying personal ships seemed to be moving all about. I was gripped with some feeling of despair however amongst all this wonder. The landscape seemed completely desolate, smog or the appearance of pollution, and the waters, not littered with garbage, but an unhealthy murkiness and brown discoloration. It was a red, dirty, dusty planet that seemed to be dying and I could feel it. I would certainly say that this landscape is exactly how many might imagine the decaying Martian landscape and civilization may have appeared before whatever great cataclysm finally brought it to an end.

Once we landed on a platform on some such building as illustrated above I had no chance to speak with my future self. Disappointing, but I expressed no concern over the matter. I was under the impression that he had left with the ship once I was escorted off. Once inside the structure, to describe it, just about everything in the interior had the color and sheen of a peach, white gold or bronze. Walking across the tiled floor felt like a material that was soft and pleasant without causing discomfort or strain, it even had some bounce to it that supported one's feet when pushing off. Oddly there was also a sort of organic feel to it. Everything appeared manufactured yet it felt as though great care was put into every little detail about the place. Even some placed plants and small flowery gardens were passed along the way as passed through some halls. There was no feeling of foreboding only warmth and a sense of welcoming.

I can't remember my company, if I was being guided or following someone or if I simply knew in my conscious where to go and what to do. Though my memory hints that there was an human female presence that preceded and guided me. I believe we must have spoken to each other at some point, but of what is completely unknown.

I had entered into a room with a large computer terminal with several projected displays. Possibly I was given some instruction on using it but for whatever reason it was not intimidating and quite easy to use.

Best representation I could find.

From what I can recall, once I accessed the terminal I was presented with information regarding what may have been everything about my life presently. I could interact with the scenes or memories of my life. There was much other information I was also presented during the session with the terminal but unfortunately, I can't recall. Not sure as to what the point or purpose was but, I do remember at times being told not to do certain things or something restricting my interaction with other computer display devices or access to other information. It seemed to also be of some sort of life analysis but, for me or my host's benefit I was not sure.

The program interaction with the terminal eventually was fulfilled and when it ended I proceeded through a doorway adjoining the room that lead me into another corridor. As before when I first arrived, for whatever reason, I experienced absolutely no bewilderment as to what I was doing in this place. I simply felt right at home, as if I belonged, with no worry or concern. If anything, I was pleased to be there.

The corridor lead me into a small but welcoming room. To my left there was an opening archway to a great audience chamber which seemed to exude a place of great importance. In front of me the room was divided in half by a small balcony on a short raise with two doorways behind it. Alongside the balcony near the entrance to the great hall was a strange terminal most difficult to describe due to memory and it's complexity.

Steampunks certainly conjure up amazing gadgetry.

The terminal was about four feet high. It was suspended by a thin rod that connected to a small oval base. Atop the rod was perhaps some sort of egg shaped case that, I later found out, opened up. Once opened one can place their face inside and rest your head against an interface, and can also place perhaps a single digit into a clasp. I'm really uncertain about the description but it does interact with and immerse all your senses. The most striking feature about this terminal was an encased and attached elongated skull.

A beautiful Aryan woman adorned with fine and ornate clothing seemingly appeared behind the balcony. She wore a dress and headdress the same color as the interior. I know that is not much to go off of but I can only describe what remains from my memory. An elegant cream colored robe adorned with fine jewels and spectacular gold solar themed headdress.

We spoke, about what I don't know however, I believe she gave me some instruction as to how to use the mystifying terminal. I followed these instructions and took to the suspended egg shaped machine. Once approached the terminal adjusted it's height accordingly and I immersed my face inside the interface.

Once I was immersed into the machine a grand free flow of information began pouring into my mind and I was swept into the memories of countless past lives, all observed in the third person. The experience was an eternity and yet each one came in a flash. Little can be remembered from each but one instance felt like something from out of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: Space Odyssey. I was back to the time and dominion of some sort of ape-like creatures. No monolith present that I can remember but, given my memory of the dream, it's entirely possible. The visions seemed to move forward or backward without destination, but finally I came to the last vision and what I remember is what interests me the most.

From what I can recall, I appeared to be some Aryan male with red facial hair, a beard and mustache perhaps. Not shocking, but what was, was that I had a very pronounced elongated head with no hair. A living example of whatever species had been found in South America.
I had apparently been through some severe physical trauma. My body appeared severely damaged and broken and I was very weak. However, I was in the arms of my savior. A beautiful blond Aryan woman must have come from a nearby village. The circumstance, cause or reason for my state of physical being and how I ended up there was unknown, but it appears that she may have dragged me from the nearby river flowing behind me.

 

Brien Foerster and a Paracas Skull

 

I can't remember if I was wearing any clothes but hers I recognized as being quite different. Organic, hand-made, folkish in some sense with simple patterns and design. This was a very long time ago, at least a few thousand years it feels. The surroundings were quite beautiful, lush and green. Even where she held me, my body laid upon fine soft grass and we were surround by mountainous terrain. I believe I saw her home not to far in the distance, perhaps a little cottage. She was most definitely my rescuer and I fell immediately in love as I gazed at her. 

From the third person observing myself, attention was immediately drawn a single gaping wound in my forehead right between my eyes and above my brow where the third eye would be. Even though I was conscious as this being... it did not appear to be good scene or that I would survive long.

Surprisingly, there was no blood. What appeared instead to be coming out of the wound, or hole when she looked, was a blackness. As she held me in her arms and gazed, there were small bits of light like stars that seemed to float out. Bringing it into focus, the organization was realized, and a universe could be seen in the very spot where the injury had occurred.

Once it was seen it was over, the vision ended and I was back in the room with the beautiful woman in the ornate robe. She said something, praise of some sort and something along the lines that told me, "It was my time to lead."

I could hear commotion the great audience chamber, it was now full of chatter. I was now dressed in a similar elaborate fashion as the woman. A garb, material perhaps similar to that of silk or satin.

Then a queer feeling came over me. A feeling of dread and that something amiss. Questions began to swell in my mind and I became suspicious as to the true intentions of my my host(s) and reasons for having me here. I thought about the pollution, the war raging in space and the devastation to the environment. Who were these people? Why were they not so wise and intelligent to have prevented the catastrophic circumstances they seemed to find themselves in.

I felt frustrated and became irate. I thought I was seeing through it all as some sort of facade. I felt I was being duped into having some sort of veil pulled over my eyes. Why would I be placed in this position of leadership and power and given exactly what I wanted in this life? Complexities of the matter grew larger and I cannot remember but I had a distinct feeling of betrayal. I became entirely certain that the whole thing was some sort of charade. Something to satisfy my questioning nature of things happening that were wrong in the world, that I was in a false reality, a dream.

Then the dream ended as I became too aware... It could have become a lucid experience but the energy provoked me to wake myself. I'm certain there was much forgotten which would have made telling this story clearer, but I'm happy I finally got this recorded. However, the question really burns and sticks with me today, what would have happened if I went along with what was presented before me? What more could I have learned? Was this contact from beyond? Was it Mars? So vivid, so profound.

Perhaps tonight I will get around to journalizing another similar story.

The Last Rant

Prologue:
For convenience we've traded ethics, morality and logic. For Security we've traded liberty and freedom and adopted a shamefully low standard on human rights. For common unity, we've given it away to fear, pride and lust for material possessions. For responsibility to govern our own lives we've given it away to corporations, religious institutions and governments, becoming most passive for ever even coming across the sickly man in the streets or the cries of a small child to whom we do not know. All this which plague us now can be reversed the moment you can accept in your mind that we are capable of something better. To raise the bar and vibration of life, not only for the sake of society but also, for yourself. To paraphrase JFK,  "Ask not what your world can do for you, ask what you can do for your world." our world, because she is here for all of us.

I mean come on America. Is that what patriotism has become? An American flag, pizza and a pick-up truck? Is that our culture? Have you bought into such corporate consumption? No? Then why do you allow it on your television? Why do you basque in all its putrid glory? Why do you behave this way to believe that young men and women should die, destroy cultures, lead a planet to it's death and not think radical change isn't needed and needed right bloody now!? Or do you still just want your pizza served on an American flag paper plate with an American flag paper napkin. Hold such a thing as our nation's flag with such high honour then use it to serve highly processed filth later proceeding to wipe garbage with it from your plumped fatty cheeks. How do you actually define sacred? I honestly don't care for such a trivial matter, but look at your own hypocrisy!

Ignore the well executed reality unfolding in the world. That we (willfully ignorant or not) are the number one reason for the destruction of the planet because we choose to, not only ignore, but GLAMORIZE the very raping of our own Mother. Don't believe me? Just check that black box in front of you and be stimulated by all that media programming has to offer.

It's disgusting, no!? Disgusting what we've become and yet... And yet you sit there and perhaps think, "Well someone out there is going to make it better, doesn't have to be me!" Am I right? It's certainly what the television tells you, that some hero, some group is working to save the world; and while this may be true you are lulled into a state of lethargy and inaction. For while at the same time that the television programming would tell you this, it will scare the shit out of you with as much pornographic depictions of violence as your mind couldn't possibly handle. Not of your war of course! (Need to keep the right conflicts looking fairly clean.) Violence done by your neighbors! Drive you into suspicion and a sense of distrust of everyone you come across and the destruction of common unity community. Drive you from ever going out alone and experiencing real nature and from believing in the brotherhood of mankind. For you might get shot, stabbed or have your face eaten off by some crazed individual "high" on bath salts. I mean do you understand the ridiculousness of what you're being told? Yet here we are running out to stores and buying everything we can in a violent panic. Feeding that monster which is, which real is, you. The willfully ignorant.

Go on buying from Wal-Mart because you "have to" or because they're pretty much the only store you can afford even though both you and your spouse are working! Perhaps even one of you working two, or even more, jobs. You've simply come to accept and expect this as normal. It's what you have even gone as far to call "equal rights".

Women didn't have to work. Not just because some floundering sexist reasoning thrown at you, but because only the husband had to work to provide for the family. When the times were good, he didn't even have to try to work very hard. However, you're constantly fed this image of hardship; of the farmer during the Great Depression, of a soldier during WWII or even WWI, that life was tough and there were only a select few that lived the "good" life, but even before the fabricated Great Depression, we were an innovative and strong society. One of great, not only technological revolutions but also cultural revolutions!

The general public doesn't hear about, or receive education about, great Americans like Nikola Tesla and what really happened to his equipment and inventions or Henry Ford's great hemp invention. No, instead they take their answers from the "History" Channel and swallow every word of it. Even for shallow skeptics of world events, they take much of it as gospel for the small reward of some scattered scraps of truth from the table of bullshit.

Straight out of an Orwellian nightmare. I could go off into a whole tangent about how much the general populous is so brainwashed. Believing whatever something like the "History" Channel tells them. It is called "PROGRAMMING" isn't it? A "History" Channel that offers such gems like, "What would it be like if a Samurai fought a Spartan?" It's easily predictable, for instance that the majority of the American society of our time would side with that of the Spartan because of our over sexuality society and feeling of a lingering white superiority (no matter what your originating race). Don't think so? Check your television.

All ethnics groups of America have in fact experienced a large amount of conditioning a.k.a. brainwashing. So sick to hear from members of these communities, that they do not associate themselves with their own heritage. I know any European reading this wouldn't believe it because it sounds so startling and ridiculous until you come here and experience and bare witness to this truth yourself by talking and listening to the common people. " I'm an American. I was born/immigrated to this country and that's all I am." or "I served this country and it's what defines me." This is what a Native American "Indian" might tell you. (I had to throw the quoted Indian part in there too because some people just won't understand the concept of a "Native American"). This is what a Mexican-American will tell you. This is what an African-American will tell you.

"Yeah I'm Cherokee, but I'm American. Why should I care about my history?" Why should he? It's certainly not in our history texts. Just tribes ravaged by the white man and how we destroyed them. That's all that's pretty much in the American History books. Oh, you liked that piece about how they built their huts or t.p.s? Yep, that was a major moment in Blackfoot history! (Sarcasm) Oh, I should become an anthropologist? Right, that's the only way I'll personally find out. While the rest of you remain in the dark and just take whatever the television feeds you. Filtering out whatever doesn't sit right with the history texts or scientific community.

It's not like the true Native American history was so hard to find or as hidden as you might think. Though you'll never find it after all of the great wise people of those cultures we slaughtered and how it was decided among many of them that the true and entire history of such a people should be hidden from invaders like the white man.

Like Christians are so afraid that they will have to go into great lengths to preserve their form of worship with the great spiritual change taking place on the planet, yet completely ignore that, what is happening to them in a peaceable manor is exactly the opposite of what the methods they choose to oppress spiritual philosophies which were not in agreeance with their own. In fact due to this huge hurdled fear from the media of the loss of such a Christian state more Americans are, in fact, increasingly finding devotion to this whimsical farce. However, Americans have become more open about all stances on life. Most are very humble even still. Growing amongst the crowd, thankfully, is a new spiritual movement that continues to grab hold of the world community at large.

Anyway, to wrap this up, members of different countries reading this, do not feel superior. Your cultures are vastly fleeting.

Confusing "modernization" and the concept of "Westernization". Producing photo cope people branded with whatever corporation has monopoly over the resources of that area of the world. Third world countries still getting the worst of the subliminal mind fuck when, "My country is being raped and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." (Maybe with an attached Nike swoosh (Saturn) or Adidas logo).

We need to change, America and the world. Maybe like that delusional fat friend of yours. Looking into the mirror and believing in being comfortable that it's your fault you look this way, because it's truly not. Just barely 100 years ago, seeing someone of that weight amount was a shock and rarity at any age. There is time and time again evidence of what we place in our foods is harming us in more ways that we choose to accept, but this is a whole other topic.

Take change and take charge. Service to others more than thy self (not that superficial bullshit you get to be coached for at your job or career). Ahh so much to tell to try to reach a better and new reality. if only you could believe one were possible and stop accepting, "that's just the way it is."

Inlakesh.

Breath

I have them saved like memories
Exciting adventures never cease to please
Atop the dreaming hill sow seeds
Wandering amongst the night through long reeds
A mother weaves with new beads
Ever cautious, it's a story she breathes
Like the timeless note an owl sings
Never heard before until he breathes

Edgar Allan Poem

I enter the lake weak and weary

Feeling refreshed, the tables turn, yet I feel dreary

Waltzing my feet along the bottom, something's caught
Submerge my head, sight upon seen I'm destined to rot
Blackened water twinkles like diamonds bathed in the moon's light
At sun's dawn things feel quite alright
My body floating I take flight
Above the world now to much delight

The Young Buck

Upon the hill of dreams I sing
Waiting one day to hear your ring
A bloody tonic is spiced by sorrow
Drinking 'way worries life not narrow
Let us act fools and break our marrow
'Til tomorrow fathom not
our taro
For there be no bad luck
In the kingdom of the young buck

Nevermore

First it started in a Colorado middle school
The town of Parachute I was never cool
For 18 was not a number I celebrated
Because it only marked another year I felt hated
Gripped by sadness
Somehow never turned to madness
Until the time my past was unveiled
This beautiful child always believed he failed
Seeing all things faded

Nevermore, but still jaded