Safely Ho-me In Bed

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My dream of forlorn people was not very pleasant. I met this young guy who was sort of attached to this older guy in his thirties. The younger guy was with the older guy because he had a car. but they had no where to go that represented progress. They didn't have the money necessary to stay where they were, which was a white, two-story wooden building that rented cheap rooms. 

The middle-aged woman who rented the rooms was not an unpleasant soul, but perhaps the most forlorn of all. The last time I saw her was through a long, shotgun hallway, to a much better furnished apartment at the rear. She was sitting on the edge of a double-bed with an expensive looking, flowing dress she had spread out decorously around her legs, and she was looking at me as if to suggest, that here she was, all dressed up, but with nowhere to go, forever. 

In the dream, I was gonna go with these guys in their car, but about two blacks down the road I realized I couldn't go with them. When I ask the older guy to stop and let me out, neither of them knew I was there until I spoke. They each knew I was there individually, but not together. My presence was not a bond between us.

This inane predicament is sort of what I'm writing about. My best guess is that I was out of body, and they could only be aware of me as I addressed them one at a time. I wasn't included in their conversation with each other. Neither one realized the other apperceived me also or that there were three people in the car. I got out and headed back to the rooming house.

As i walked up the stairs the rooms looked different. They were much smaller. At the top of the stairs and on each side were two young couples who may have been lovers. Each pair in their own separate rooms across from each other. To the right was a slender beauty of a woman who was topless and in a state of dishabille. She smiled warmly at me and continued with her dressing. I kept wondering if her smile was an invitation, but I realized soon that it wasn't. She didn't "see" me in a way that could lead anywhere physical even if she was interested. 

In a later dream I found myself in the foyer of a commercial building with some people standing in line for a reason I didn't understand. I was talking with this one suit who seemed proud to let me know the importance of keeping up, when my brother entered the scenario and approached. I was glad to see him. At least I wouldn't be alone in a crowd now. 

I asked the man I'd been talking to where we were at. He didn't seem surprised to find himself telling me that we were in New Hampshire.  I turned to my brother and remarked to him, that we had better get outta there. It was probably gonna get cold up there in the North. He grinned, and asked me to realize my physical body was laying in my bed back in the warm South. 

Why I'm writing that all the people I encountered in this long, segmented dream were forlorn is difficult for me to say. They represented one thing to each other, except for my brother (who must have been astral traveling too), but their relationship with me was different than with each other. It was as if they were speaking to me as an aside. 

I can't swear which part of these doppelgangered entities was the victim of forlornness. The one talking to me as if I were their secret friend or the one that openly saw and related with each other. The only out-of-body entity present was my brother, but later, after I got outta bed, I worried that he was forlorn too. 

He has not seemed to be himself lately. It was something he said a couple of days ago. Fortunately, since we are blood kin in the same life span, this time, and next door neighbors for thirty years now, I can tacitly comfort him. Nobody knows. 

I waited until I had written down as much as I remembered about the dreamtime this morning before I put on my headphones and booted up the Gnaural meditation program. The binaural beats it uses to entrain my brain waves toward a theta predisposition does cause me to have to concentrate more to be able to say what I see. The dreamtime is hard enough to recall without additional distraction. 

The sad thing about moving about without my body while it's sleeping is that I see two different entities in the same package. These two entities don't seem to be aware the other one is there. Just like at times I don't realize in these situations that my body is lying asleep safely ensconced in my bed.  

I am is not particularly enjoying being aware that the others I encounter astral traveling don't realize they're two different persons in one to me. They don't seem able to comfort each other. They do seem comforted to realize I do "see" both of them simultaneously, but they don't seem aware that self-awareness is possible for them also. Maybe  it's not. Who am I?

That's what I'm trying to grok by writing while I'm being zonked out by the binaural beats playing simultaneously with my brain waves, and manipulating them to a decided endgame. In some way, however, it's my individual sense of how these dual states of being cooperate in a single endeavor to reach the ideal end that matters to me. The invisible parts have to be aware of each other's purpose and willing to negotiate among themselves. A third element is required for them to sit together for any reason. 

For my own reasons I've concluded that third element is who I am is calls "me". It's the well-regarded witness element or perhaps the "holy ghost". The "me" in the first person singular as opposed to the "not-me or un-me" which is universal, and thereby, allows the me in the first person singular to create who-they-think-they'd-like-to-be, each according to their own disposition. 

This lends to the actuated appearance of the father/son dynamic of dualism. It's the war of the gods between a father and his son. The wife and mother, being one mind, can neither win or lose by taking the son's side of the battle. I'm betting the "war of the gods" is just that. It has nothing to do with the goddesses or any sort of cat fight their sins may engender. Maybe this situation makes or places the woe-to-man (woman) in the unenvied position of witnessing the results of such a battle, yet unable to recuse herself by blood and sperm. All this means to me is that the "witness" aspect of the trinity of players is probably female. 

Personally, it kind of falls this way, at least astrologically, in the abstract results of my having contemplated my own life more so than the lives of others. All the earth and water signs in the zodiac have even numbers and are classically viewed as feminine signs. This is equivalent the Oriental symbols for yin and yang representing the same esoteric form. 

In my natal astrological chart all of the three strongest features of astrology fall into and temporarily inhabit feminine signs. Both the Sun and sequentially, the Moon were "in" Taurus at the moment I was born in mid-eastern, rural Mississippi ten minutes after sunset by the light of the faintest first sliver of the New Moon, and it was softly raining. 

Being born just after sunset put my Sun in the sixth house and in conjunction to the Descendent. The Ascendent sign if the opposite of the Descendent sign, which in my natal chart is Taurus, and that alone, if no other aspect, makes Scorpio my Rising sign, the witness aspect of the trinity of significant features of astrology. 

Not only do the opposing signs Taurus and Scorpio contain The Sun, the Moon, and my Ascending (rising) sign, but they also represent my life goals and mundane daily goals that play the drumbeat I pretend to ignore. 

In my interpretations (others may vary) involving my own astrological data it's easy, now, for me to ken that most of my troubles have arrived to bite me on the ass from sheer impatience. I'm not a world-beater. I sit by the door. I watch, and I'm supposed to wait, but sometimes that gets persnickety, and droll. 

The planet Mars is classically significant in my natal chart. Mars does rule the Sign Aries, and it used to rule Scorpio, until Pluto was discovered or invented, and has now been debunked. Maybe the me-and-thee-ing of Mars and Pluto come to resolution in the attributes and nature of the sign Scorpio. The reason the astronomers claim they de-planet-ed Pluto by status is that it's not just one round planet with a concentrated field of gravity, but a group of planetoids. Some never was really planets places. 

This could be a more apt description for the ways of Scorpio. One thing is for sure. In my experience with other Scorpios of both genders, but mainly the ladies of the court, it's hard for me to know what to kowtow to. When I am is not deliberately acting the fool it's tedious to know by feelings of the second order whether they're gonna react like a-snake-in-the-grass or with the grasping swoop of an eagle. They wanna figure me out and calculate, and not the other way around. Like planetoids working as a wolf pack, they divide themselves incomprehensibly in order to conquer. 

Having Scorpio as "my" rising sign is both a blessing and a curse. On the positive side it gives me insight into the motivation of Scorpio natives in such a way as to realize through my own contemplations that I am is not their intended victim. Usually. Literally, most of the time, no ill-tempered Scorpionic mass-murderer has intended to cause me pause, unless I get too intrusive into their secret lives. 

Now, I know that. Now, when it doesn't really matter anymore, I finally know that. That doesn't stop them from testing my resolve. They're 

Scorpios. How could they not test even me? That's what they do. It's irksome at best. They never take your word or actions for granted with even the most sublime assurances. Who wants to be around some insecure asshole wearing off-the-rack blinders on? 

You might be an insecure asshole too if you had my row to hoe. If you walked in my shoes. You might change your mind and give me a break if you knew what I have to cope with just to remain credible with my own damned self. It's not you I'm testing, but my own resolve. I get tricked out of it on a regular basis. Especially when I get nutty and decide I know all the answers now. I can do that, you know, with aplomb!

For obvious reasons I've been attracted to the spiritual hymn, Swing Low, Sweet Chariot for most of my life. I memorized all the words and sang them as a youth over and over until I drove myself crazy with the idea that somebody, at some time, understood the "ups" and "downs" I experienced in continuum. I convinced myself that despite all my mood swings, that one day, probably pretty soon, that for all my troubles, somebody... something... was gonna co-me and carry me ho-me. 

How dumb! How child-like! What an idiot! Believing all that rhetorical non-sense. When are you gonna accept the truth of wot's plainly sot down before you in the heat of the night?

If I had no body laying in bed at home, dreaming my astral travels into being, and all I had was the astral being itself, that presently does that as sheer amusement, I'd wanna die, and couldn't. No body? No death as the answer to earthly prayers. 

Candidly, that might actually be what Hell is. I'm commenting on the "forlornness" I described above. Being forlorn like that and without a body to return to has gotta be the most haunting form of ex-is-tense there can be. What is, and only is, is easy. What ain't, must merely ex-is-t. Ex-is-tense can be a mofo. 

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