I recently had a dream, a dream about dreamers, about Dreamweavers.
It’s about a group of people who link-up in the Physical, then go off together to experience dreams in the Astral, and how they share their adventures (maybe prompted by Robert Monroe’s tale?).
I have a feeling that their purpose is to do “good”, but I myself haven’t done anything “good” yet. I just have this overwhelming sense of purpose.
In between the Dreamweaving I express my concerns to a fellow Dreamweaver, someone who appears to be GK, my old Magician friend from the seventies, but I don’t have to explain what’s happening – he knows . . . then I find in my travels (dreams?) a beautiful object that I bring back with me . . . it’s a small oval dark-brown glass container, resembling a make-up jar . . . the inside of the removable lid is mirrored . . . it’s quite dirty and old . . . the outside of the lid has a braided and worked silver edge affixed . . . I’m showing it to G and he tells me to clean it up and to give it to . . . he looks over his shoulder and points to a person, another man . . . “Give him the present so that he won’t die . . . to save his life . . .” or something like that, more of a feeling than words . . . so I find a sink tub and spend a lot of time really cleaning it and scraping the grime off it, but disappointingly the present is refused . . . that’s right, he dies, and we find later that he is still around, that he’s in the Astral, but he’s still hanging around, and I say to someone who’s looking for him: “Look for him on the Highways, look for him at the intersections, he’ll be there” . . . it appears that he’s hanging around the intersections waiting for something, maybe it’s an attempt to recover his spurned gift, or his former Life, I never discover . . . (Robert Johnson’s CrossRoads?).
Then I have to get up and go to the toilet, but I can’t, ‘cause I’m aware that I’m dreaming, but I don’t want to lose my place in the dream . . . as this has happened before! It’s not the first time that I’ve consciously surfaced from a dream, attended to my needs, then slipped back into the same dream, or a continuation thereof . . .
Believe it, or not, Mr. Ripley . . .
“Looking for consciousness in the brain is like looking in the radio for the announcer.” – Nassim Haramein