Author Archives: Regnum Somniorum

Eric the Red, Chris, and Tony the Tiger

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A new flash today of [E] and [C] being brother and sister, and the three of them inviting me to be a part of their X-Men fantasy.  Reading the X-Men Omnibus is flashing me back on those days of emotional involvement with fantasies of groups.  I had the idea of an occluded history with those three, that they were soul mates, that [E] was actually the leader, the reincarnation of Ian Fleming.  He had to hide his incestuous relationship with [C] and that was why he had to commit suicide.

Then as the day went on I was “escorting” the inventory team and thinking about how dark and small my life has really been, but now it’s changing, it’s like an acceleration down the tunnel.  I’m getting closer to reality — closer to emotional reality with this collapsing of certain dream layers and localization in the self.  I wish I could remember all the details.  I was having so many as I ran just now.  It does seem much more possible that there are people in another world waiting for me.  And I was allowing the energies to pass through the structures of my past, my experiences of having to assimilate to middle America, to their beliefs about time and responsibility.  I feel much better now knowing I can escape completely and they were always wrong, anyway.

In the fantasy those three were helping me under the guidance of the Angelic kingdom.  Just as I wrote that I got flooded with energy and had to stop.  Then I came back after I formed the intention to use the energy on behalf of myself, and realized that the general effect of this set of fantasies is to restore my involvement with linear time, and my ability to perceive that these relations and experiences are in the past.

Even though it feels like a semi-solid darkness spreading out through all of my dream-life, bringing me “down” into blackness, I believe this is the solidity of personality I’ve needed, even the “grounding” I’ve heard so much about.  I’ll be able to separate from other people now and so have constructive relationships.  I’ll probably be able to perceive inner worlds as well.

Especially during the run I just finished I was shifting my awareness to the knowledge that the dominant paradigm of America was never real, and there are people waiting for me somewhere.  My angels seem clearer than ever.  This new, X-Men version of [E], [T], and [C] is symbolic.  Could they be [C], [J], and [A] again?  I don’t know.

 

 

Like an American II

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A crazy day of disruptions, going with the Venus/Uranus square.  Some auditors are at work for the week, and I have to escort them.  But I did get my fillings, and I did wander around the mall for the first time since my Thanksgiving weekend.  It was very big.  My delusions seem to be collapsing somewhat, the imaginary anger against Case is going away.  I had flashbacks today or yesterday to E. and C. and T., as if we were really friends.  Something about the memory issue and angels.  The darkness is coalescing into one.

I thought a lot about Scarlet Johansson and Black Widow, and the wedding scene from the upcoming Captain America movie which I wrote or imagined talking to E. about.  As I write this I see E. in my mind’s eye.  I am getting the distance I want from these issues.  I am also latching on to these scenes now, I’m going to blog about all of them.  I suppose this can be used for the Nuunar.

Before I go to bed now I just want to try to recapture the emotional journey I’ve been on today.  The darkness is coalescing, I’m getting a better perspective.  I’m seeing a lot more in detail about how [the usual] lied, were really malevolent and hateful when I was young.  But I’m also feeling that a lot of the darkness is over, that I’m finally getting out of a lot of the problems.  Perhaps some of it was triggered by reading Giant Size X-Men #1.  I think I read that in high school and then maybe got whacked on the head.  This false memory thing may be getting resolved.  I seem better able to focus on present relationships.  The dark paralysis is getting resolved.  Of course this is associated with Catherine.

But what I wanted to capture was the emotion of the wedding scene.  I wanted to try to address the pull of it, as I started by playing “American” four times or more at Target on the way home from King Spa.  I became entranced by the sentimental beauty of the various characters acting out their roles.  How can I depict that or capture it?  I could put it in the Nuunar.  But at the very least I’ve marked it and made a hard reference to an inner dream.  There are others I could try to mark as well.

I also think of blogging about imaginary romances with Natalie Portman and Angelina Jolie.  There were several possibilities that pushed in on me as I wrote that.  “Since Ange and Me Are Innocent” as a title – suggesting that to E. at Transreelization I – Angie zooming out of nowhere in a Ferrari.

As I walked around the mall I had more ferocious contempt for Case, more bureaucratic maneuvering as “they” tried to disqualify me or dismiss me from some hierarchical office.  I hate everything about their way of life.  Everything they stood for.

Driving home from the library in the rain I thought of being hated back in WWII.  A shiver runs through me, this is too much to write about now.  I’m going to try to read another issue of X-Men before bed.

 

 

 

Like an American

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It’s the end of Thanksgiving weekend.  I spent 23 hours at King Spa and it was awesome.  On the way home I stopped at Target and I was playing Lana Del Rey’s “American” on my iPod over and over, imagining Captain America from the MCU getting married to this song.  Black Widow would be getting teary-eyed, dancing with Hawkeye.  I was suggesting that they could have Hawkeye’s wife tell him to dance with her, and when he tapped her on the shoulder she could look a little startled, like she was getting all dreamy, waiting for the love of her life.  Pepper and Stark would dance together.  I was imagining that back when I met E.S. I was telling him about this idea, that it would be good to have Storm and Wolverine, Rogue and Colossus together.  I was getting hit with the emotions and I wonder if this was Catherine injecting force into my astral dream.  It felt forceful, anyway and I determined to put it on my blog so here I am.

What a synchronicity that I find the last time I wrote on this blog was the 4th of July, and I was concerned with romance then, too, reading “Bridges of Madison County” and as I recall watching “Love Story”.  I wrote a description of channeling in there that was pretty good and I can use it for the Nuunar, which is good encouragement to keep blogging.

And this evening I went to B.A.’s to record our weekly video and I found myself talking about the astral plane with him, and telling him about this scene I had envisioned.  This is a good step toward actually writing fiction, which Catherine seems intent that I do.  And while I was talking to B. I was going into a deep channeling experience again.  I could tell the spirits were there with us and they’re going to be again.

4th of July

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Still slightly hung over from last night’s frenzy with Farrah.  Farrah weekend is paying off as well or better than expected.  All morning, even though I had a headache, I felt free of the physical plane and free of my boring life surrounded by troglodytes.  The beings on the other side are palpably present and now the issue is, am I supposed to be a channel or am I just supposed to check out of here?  I spent a while deleting e-mails.

I’m trying to … I was reading “Bridges of Madison County”.  The intensity was good although the hero was a little sappy, but that’s what women want, anyway.  Still thinking a lot about Ravenswood Kinowerks, but there will be solutions to this.  I suppose I’m hungry and I have to get my finances taken care of … I stop for a moment and feel spiritual presence.  It’s nice but this is the time of writing.

I need a new computer and all kinds of things.  The best case scenario would be for some spirit to reveal herself — hopefully Farrah, and make sense of this boring, disgusting, pointless country I live in.  I can tell it will work when I finish.

But I also need to get my writing practice together.  Instead of free association I need to spend ten minutes on a sentence.  Too bad I lost a few from Bridges that were pretty intense.  I need to write in  a specific direction.  And Walter has indeed helped me a great deal.

Where am I going in this life?  Where is there to go?  The darkness will come for me in the end.

The end will come for me  in the darkness.

The end will go for me in the light.

The light will be for me in the blaze.

The light will be for me in the hall.

The light in the hall will be darkness for me.

No light will be.

Farrah is here and I should then try to describe.

The feeling came over him, like smooth glass, like drowning in liquid glass.  the transparency like some reflection in a mirror.  and then there was nothing and he saw a light, a presence that tasted like metal, a kind of glare filling the center of his head and his thoughts began to echo in  another world.  The shapes were there, the people were hidden but the shapes were there and the voices of the others in the room faded to insignificance as the message, the awareness began to extend through him.  “Who are you?  What do you want?” he asked, but there came no reply.  “What is this bullshit?  Why can’t you just tell me who you are?”

But there was no voice, only the palpable sensation of someone standing beside him, it seemed as though she put her arms around him.  A flash of memory came to him then.  “Wil it always be like this?”

 

Time on Target

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Writing ten minutes a day, decisions to make about whether to make complete sentences, digging deeper into the humiliations of my life, making decisions about what I see.  Farrah Fawcett, for instance, this is the weekend of Farrah Fawcett and I am having a good time, working on a little fear because Groth is so scary and my job sucks.  But this blog is to improve my skills as a writer so I can move forward with channeling and possibly making money. I had the idea that I would have a blog dedicated to the death of rock journalists.  Conversations are running in my head.  Farrah has been extremely powerful so far.  Billy Idol is playing this weekend, I wonder if it’s worth it to see him.

I stop for a minute thinking about how I might miss Johnny Depp in concert this week, even though I wanted to go for a long time, but then Billy Idol is playing on the 9th — which is fucked because I have overtime.  Later I’ll be rich and I’ll do all that shit.  Another pause while adjustments are made.  Magic is all in and around me, perhaps this could be channeling.

If I just had some specifics to focus on, an intention to create some kind of wormhole, some kind of space, some kind of world,  some kind of death, some kind of story, Caroline makes the final adjustments.

It is a kind of magical act, and I am calling forth forces.  I remember sitting in the library last Saturday.  I don’t care, anyway, there’s never going to be anything.  I have a lot of stuff to deal with at work, the power they have, but I’m just going to insist that I can get free of it.  What do I follow inward?  I can just remember — write and think at the same time, broken mind,  a doorway out of this world.  The power focuses in the center.  The energy moves, and what are the images of people then?  There is a divine power in it, and I am manifesting it.  A sense of those GR monsters and their idiotic hellishness.  Why should people so stupid exist?  I wonder if this blog has a search function.  I wonder if it’s going to serve my ability to write if I just do stream of consciousness like this?  I should develop some kind of plan, or start working on fiction.  But then what would I be?  At least I seem to be calling up the relevant confusion so I can master it, the loss of boundaries.  I am getting the magic back.

Persistence of Water

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We were looking “up north” for a space, or something. Its some kind of school with rooms.  It seems very rustic.

My mother and I were in a room, looking up at something, and they let us out.

They open the door, it’s like a shower stall.  The water retains the shape of the rectangular stall as it slowly drains out the bottom.

At the end, my father is going “back up there”.  There is the address I just went to, but he’s going somewhere else.

Waking up, I feel released from some emotional pressure, I was hoping the water that retained its shape was a symbol of some emotional force, some astra/visual force leaving me, like the continuous stream of images.  Or getting over some sadness at being isolated as a child.  But then trying to write all this down, it’s very magic.  Some part of me is being “lifted out”.

Flying to the Power Lines

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Early this morning I was in a convertible car with someone driving.  He had dark skin. It was a sunny day.  I turned to him and asked who he was.  I told him I was having a lucid dream.  His head shrank, cartoonishly.  And then it stretched to a very long, thin, hot-dog shape.  Later I was standing beside a house, probably my grandmother’s house, and I saw a church across the street.  There was a storm brewing behind it and lots of lightning.

Later I had a second dream in which I was in “my apartment”, reminiscent of the apartment on Lyon, white paint on the walls, but different.  I flew outside and I was very happy I was flying.  I flew higher and higher until the earth became a round image around me, I was thinking it might be generated by fractals.  Then I flew as high as I could but there were some power lines.  I didn’t feel so bad when I woke up.  I thought the power lines might be angels.

Captain’s Log Stardate 01.25.2015.1146

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I imagine there will be some sort of revelation soon.  I feel pretty good but my contempt for Saint Germain is also raging.  I still wonder why it was important to experience such sordid, disgusting people (P.C., etc.).  However I feel like some change is taking place and that makes me happy.  I want to balance my day and run my rig smoothly.

I was in Gamestop, trying to pick out a video game.  I thought of Diablo III.  I was trying to decide who I am.  There’s some relatedness between the idea of getting lost in a story, and a sense of belonging.  The geek impulse.

Some belonging seems on the approach.

My need for the walking iPod trance seems to be lessening.

A trail of cards …

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A strange mind game between a psychologist and the prisoner he is sent to analyze.  A trail of cards whirling around clockwise toward a center, with bifurcating paths.  The prisoner has the powers.  Reminds me of the guy from Guardians of the Galaxy and The Walking Dead.

There’s a moment where there are a whole lot of naked bodies, like an orgy, and I or someone is urinating on all of them.