Monday, 11 January 2010

It's Not Me

It can't be, because I had the best night's rest I've had in months last night, and I didn't let go of my pillow the entire time, that I am certain of, because I half woke up about nine times, but this is okay.

I had this dream, where the government used a helicopter with missiles to blow up their own country's Boeing 747, full of people. This in turn caused the plane to crash into the Rocky Mountains, which began an avalanche of rocks and trees. It juts collapsed. And the sensible thing was to climb up, not run down, because there was no chance of survival by running away, only by facing it and dodging. And I could see massive boulders, and pine trees falling towards me, but I ran up, and sideways, and up some more. Only a small percentage of the hundreds of people on the mountainside survived. I saw TV coverage of it later on in the dream, and there were others sprinting up like I was, and so many died when half this one mountain fell over.
Then I was in a waiting room, telling a woman about it, and how I knew it was the government that did it. She just looked at me, and said 'come with me' and took me by the arm and into another room, where there were about half a dozen people sitting around. They were all special in some way. There was a little boy who could manipulate energy. And a gaunt woman in the corner. A man came to me, lay me down, and said 'do you know what I can do?' I looked at him and said 'yes. You take memories, dreams'
'That’s right'.
And with that, he placed his thumb and index finger against my forehead, and pulled my memories out. Or tried. I just shut my eyes and could see them moving, like white light, out of my skull towards his hand. And then.... I woke up sitting next to that little boy. But there were more of us. I looked at him, and he asked why I was here. 'They took my memory'
'Of what?'
'Because I saw our government kill hundreds of its own people'
He looked at me in shock, realising as I did, that the man DIDN'T take my memories. The woman that brought me there heard me, and said I was to go see Steven Hawking. A young man looked at me in horror and said 'if you go in there you will NEVER come out!' He was the most powerful man in wherever I was, clearly, because weaker attempts had failed. I said to the little boy quietly to prepare himself, and think strong. I looked at the young man, who nodded, and told the woman in the corner, and a couple on the opposite wall.
I shut my eyes, and then opened them and everyone had needles coming out of them, all lit up, like optic fibres. The little boy was red on his torso, and blue on his jeans, and the needles moved up all by themselves, like a porcupine. We all did. Yellows, greens, red and blues, all rippling colours, all getting stronger. Suddenly, a loud band was heard and the door blew off its hinges, and we made a run for it. These people had been on the mountain too. And Daniel was there, in an apartment leading from this hellhole, waiting for me. He picked me up and hugged me, put me down, and we ran. Me and him and the people with powers. I must have been a threat, or powerful or something, else wise they would never have put me in there. Knowledge always was power, and those with all the brute force are terrified of it. I woke up in a double bed, clinging to D, who merely groaned a bit at my movement, rolled over, and cuddled me. I thought to myself, 'he's just a pillow when I really do wake up.’ Rolled over and sure enough, there was my pillow in my arms.

This isn't my angst that I feel. It's not, because I am dreaming in Epics again. I am dreaming of power, and justice, and super powers, just like I used to. So who am I channelling here? Live around people that believe they're empathic long enough and you begin to trust your own instincs a whole lot more. Seems that maybe I'm more receptive than I thought originally....

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