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THE EVENT (Return From Pleasure Island 2017)

Monday, May 15 2017 Views: 144

        Morning of May 15, 2017. Monday.

        The Event. I did not really expect to see it at this particular time. No way back to previous ways of thinking. My perception of humanity has been altered again, even though I did not think this to be possible. While randomly glancing through a website last night in real life, I saw it. The most unnerving, creepiest thing I have read in my lifetime. It was, in fact, not even in sentence form, but two short fragments.

        The Event has changed me. I still feel uneasy. It is of a different energy than the positive associations that began in March 1991 when I learned that Zsuzsanna was a real person. The Source, perhaps, is behind this, to shock me. I was already in the process of doing something a little different relating to scripted dreams and meditation sessions, and dream work in general.

        At any rate, I am walking with, what is his name? Is it Chadwick? Lampwick? Edwick? I am not sure. I think I might go with Lampwick. Except that I am not Pinocchio. Lampwick and I walk in the darkness of the night, towards a sparse area of trees - Melaleuca quinquenervia (I bet you cannot say that five times quickly). I see that he is wearing a t-shirt that says "Everyman". I consider that he may be the last human being alive (even though I am alive and walking with him on his left). He does not say anything.

        Suddenly, his teeth grow to four or five times their normal size, forcing his mouth open, throwing his head back, throwing him backwards, as he dies. It seems I might be here for years, looking down at his lifeless body. He is the last man (boy?) on Earth. Poor Lampwick. Or is it Chadwick? I do not even know what to engrave on his tombstone should I take up the task. (I am reminded of a baby mockingbird which I had as a boy and I had given too many grasshoppers to it so that it died, its beak wide open and upwards, no longer breathing.)

        The stagecoach arrives. The Coachman regards me with a subtle sense of authority. He is actor Kenneth McMillan. ("...and by the way, they never made a live-action movie of "Pinocchio" with Kenneth McMillan as the Coachman. At least...I don't think so"). I smile warily, slightly unsure of the situation. The scene is remarkable and perfect, with a vibrant energy. He is waiting for me, but I am not sure what to do. Is he not the villain? Rather than Pleasure Island, I get that it is actually called The Island of Misfit Boys. This is a distortion of The Island of Misfit Toys from a different show. But what does the dream self know? (I only found out after this dream of a song called "Island Of The Misfit Boy", with the first line being "I love to sleep 'cause I pretend that I'm dead" - like an opossum? Okay, The Source is playing games again.) Inside the stagecoach is Zsuzsanna's silhouette. This is where I shift consciousness.

        I am once again back in the backyard of Cubitis. I decide to do something about the overgrown grassy hill in the middle of the south border of our backyard, though I was never sure, in real life, where our backyard ended and our neighbors' began. I mentally mow the hill and cut the grass with my mind. There is a brief scene of using my hands, but that is a dream within a dream. It hits me. There is a part of "me" that is wounded and "stuck in a loop". Except that not really "me". It is like a "me" echo that just wants to hang around for no reason and be stupid.

        It is like an imaginary trauma. A pretend scene or at least a scene not remotely relevant. My present dream self (also known as my personified subconscious) is an absolute idiot. He does not even know where I am in time and space. It is almost like looking at a hundred-year-old photograph where everyone in it has long-since died and saying, "Oh look, how futuristic and trendy. Those people must be enjoying themselves. Let's have dinner with them."

        I walk into the house, and through the Cubitis living room, somehow coming out on the Barolin Street house's porch. Without even realizing the impossibility. I just walked through a house in Florida I have not been in since 1978, and onto the porch of a house in Australia I have not seen in years. Three unknown women seem to be playing a card game at a round wooden table. One looks casually up at me and says, "I know about..." and continues. And so? Is this meant to be gossip? Pertinent Information?

        In the back of my mind, I am vaguely aware that I created her and made her say that with my conscious self identity - just to possibly create fictional drama, which has no meaning. Or maybe it is actually because it is not fictional drama, but to calm the other "me" lost in time. This is the closest, in a dream, I have ever gotten to understanding how certain dreams work. I look at her and her two unknown card-playing friends (without even seeing them as imposers who should not be on our porch). I distinctly know that my conscious self, not my "subconscious" is making this part of my dream. Yet...I do not even know I am dreaming. It is an enigma. It would have to be threads of the conscious self to give "messages" to the "subconscious" (rather than the other way around). Perhaps The Event hit me so hard, it actually changed something within my dreaming patterns. It certainly seems like it now.

        I go into the other house. There are three beds, neatly made. Two where they "should" be (though incorrect as my mind associates them with the two parents of a neighbor, so only one bed should be there), one in the living room. They are somehow perceived as close together (in one room?), in an L shape. This is where it gets stranger. "I was right," I say to myself (even though the scene is not right at all - even the layout is skewed). I have in my dream self's mind, one, and only one, dream from March 14, 2014 as if with some sort of odd subliminal lucidity that I have never experienced before. (Of all the dreams I have studied, this is something new.) I tell myself that dream was correct in how the layout is presented in this dream. And yet. I am not lucid. (What is going on?)

        I go out, walking south through the front yard. On Highway Seventeen. For some reason, I turn right on Highway Seventeen. I end up walking west on Sill Street in Wisconsin. Without even thinking about it. Again. Cubitis backyard, to Cubitis living room, to Barolin Street porch, to Cubitis front yard, to...Highway Seventeen, to...Sill Street. "Subconscious mind"? Surely you jest. "Subconscious mind" is an oxymoron. Kind of like "found missing" or "larger half". "Where did they bury the survivors?"

        Chadwick is back. (Lampwick? Richwick?) Except that he is Edwick. He seems to be a random homeless person wandering about. I notice that my feet hurt as I am barefoot. I walk so that only part of the bottom of my feet make contact with the sidewalk. I notice a couple key-rings on the ground on each side of the sidewalk. There are a few silver keys on them. I pick them up.

        Where is Pleasure Island? I hear Richard ("The Blue Lagoon") exclaim "I wish a big book with all the answers to every question in the world would drop out of the sky and land in my hands right now." You go Richwick. I mean Chadwick. Gilligan's Island scene. The castaways make a film about their predicament. They watch the film they shot. "...there's our island" one says. Except could they film a faraway view of their island if they were...castaways...with no boat or raft?

        I return slowly to reality. I recall reading, when a rendering of the sky (somewhat like a painting) was posted to a Facebook group, showing the star positions as they looked before human civilization. Someone posted, "How can a picture be that old?" Then there was the photograph of someone holding a large piece of ice. Someone had posted, "Why isn't the ice melting?"

        The Event: "A Short dream. No explanation on Google."

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