THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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In the first dream, I was on a school bus with what seemed to be Bosnian refugees and I was with this man whom I seemed to love. I remember he had very blue eyes. He sat next to me and put his head on my lap and I started stroking his hair. His hair seemed to be covered in dried oil or coal, or anyway, it was black and hard. When I ran my hand through his hair the coating would chip off, until finally his own hair was revealed. Suddenly this woman at the front of the bus stood up and started yelling. She had a machine gun with her and started shooting at random. I threw myself over the man next to me to shield him, and as I did that I saw an orange bullet come out of the woman's gun. In almost slow motion, I watched it come closer, and it hit me in the neck, and I knew I was dead as I fell back in the seat. I woke up, and I wasn't upset at all. In fact, the whole dream had an emotionless quality to it. Then, I fell back asleep and dreamed this: I was sitting in this strange apartment and I was looking at a picture of myself as a child, when all of a sudden I was holding my own body in my arms (fully grown). I took my body's face in my hands and was studying it very closely, and I remember its skin was very soft, like a baby's. Its eyes were closed and it was very limp. I knew that if I kissed it, it would "wake up," like in the fairy tales. The thought of doing this was extremely repulsive to me, I think because this was a "feeling dream" (meaning I had actual physical sensations in the dream) and if I kissed the body I would actually be kissing my own mouth. I apparently was very averse to learning what that would feel like, and I woke up. What could this possibly mean? Am I in big trouble? |
The orange bullet in the first dream sounds like a tracer. It means that the shooter was almost out of ammo. You almost made it! Neither of the dreams seem particularly prophetic, although you are the best judge of that. Any distinct feelings of deja vu during them? The first dream was possibly just clarivoyant, if anything. Not your own fate, methinks. |
she's a goner. |
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my younger sister used to have terrible nightmares about spiderman. |
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Last night, the cat infiltrated my room and woke me up when she burrowed under my covers. I then had this dream. I was lying in my bed in the same position as I was in reality -- on my back with my left arm curled around the cat, who was up against my side. I turned back the covers and in the dim light could see dark spots of something against the fitted sheet. I sat up, felt around, and realized there was dirt on my sheets, like soil, like graveyard dirt. I could make out little spots moving around, like ants. I got out of bed to sweep the dirt off the sheets, and there was a little girl crouched at the foot of my bed. She looked normal (and I could see her very clearly in the dream -- light brown hair, blue eyes, freckles, wearing a white nightgown) but I knew she was a ghost or someone back from the dead. I forced myself to remain calm and cheerful as I swept the dirt off the sheets, because I didn't want to alert her to the fact that I knew what she was and was afraid of her. Then the dream shifted and I was walking in Philadelphia and ran into a friend of mine. She told me she had been living in the city for years, unbeknownst to me, and introduced me to her boyfriend. I introduced her to my girlfriend, who was standing on my left with my arm around her shoulders. Then the dream shifted again and I was back in my bed. Something invisible was jumping all over the bed, disturbing the covers, and I thought at first it was my cat but I realized I was still lying on my back with my left arm draped around the cat against my side. The thing jumping on my bed terrified me, and I tried to grab it through the covers with my right hand but it easily evaded me. I tried to telepathically communicate with my cat by mentally shrieking, "Micio, wake up! Micio, wake up!" as if the cat could save me from the evil thing. I woke up lying in the same position I had been in in the dream. That cat couldn't save me from shit. She still runs away if you look at her directly. |
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That's the spare room -- please excuse the ironing board on the floor, bags of unknown stuff on the bookshelves, etc. |
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Long preamble in which I'm a character in a science fiction story set on a space station and we the crew are down to starvation rations until we can be resupplied. Our resuppliers are our overlords and we are afraid of them. One looks like Joaquin Phoenix, and another is a young priest, but "priest" as in sci-fi/fantasy high priest, not Catholic. Stuff happens. The two men I mentioned and a few others drug me and take me to a planet where there's a field at the edge of a forest. My mind's eye can see everything, but I-the-dream-character am heavily sedated and cannot open my eyes. The priest intends to rape me with the Joaquin Phoenix lookalike holding me down and the other men positioned nearby to watch it. First I am temporarily saved by a grasshopper who keeps flying at us from the edge of the forest. I am sedated but alert enough to fling up my limbs and shake off the men holding me down in order to protect myself from the grasshopper's divebombs. Then, at the far left of my peripheral vision, I see what I can only describe as a smoke monster: black smoke with coiling tendrils like octopus arms shimmering and waving at me, visible only out of the far edge of my left eye. It speaks to me in a very low guttural voice, and I'm terrified of it. My fear makes me angry, and I shake off the men and stand up and address the being, essentially performing my own exorcism. I call out to it in fury and tell it to leave my thoughts, feelings, dreams, reason, perception, decisions, (other cognitive features I can't remember), and (quote) "get the fuck out." I wake up. The dream left such an impression on me that when I fell back to sleep, I had another dream in which I was addressing a class and basically giving a book report on the earlier dream, complete with a diorama I had made of the space station. |
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I had a dream that I remarried to my ex-wife. |
symptom or cause of why i'm so fucked up. at least there's hope for spider. |
What real difference would no taxes make? Seriously. They are as abstract as money is by itself. Who would pay for all the shit you use every day--you think everyone would just chip in for you? No, and that's the whole damn point. Enforced teamwork for the selfish and afraid. Believe me, it's better for you than any alternative we currently have seen. Pretend it was never yours to begin with, which it wasn't. Your water is clean. What lame thing would you be doing if you didn't work? Do you know that you chose your "work"? (Disclosure: I think that no one should have to work but how do I know it's not true for now? Because it ain't happenin and I am pretty sure people couldn't handle it.) Fuck all you fucking people acting like life just keeps happening to you in some bewildered bubble. I so want to see a diorama of a spacestation. DIORAMAS FOREVER. |
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these days. |
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maybe sorabji should host a month long silent retreat? nothing but sorabji music to enlighten the soul, and mexican food for all. "stress doesn't come from the planet, it comes from you" how true how true. trip to cuba soon? |
been dreaming vividly every night for a month. |
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you have dreams when you sleep, you're just not remembering them. |
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just found out local boy van cliburn died. possibly only mark t. would care. |
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a friend of mine worked for an electronics store back in the 80's. they had wired the stereo system in van cliburn's house. vc would rock classical music - with its wide range from bass to treble - so loud that it routinely blew the speakers. it was my friend who went in one day and - just because they were sick of him - wired his stereo so he couldn't turn it up loud enough to damage the speakers. fort worth likes to bill itself as a city of "cowboys and culture". our tenuous grasp on culture has a lot to do with van cliburn and the eponymous piano competition. his death, though the competition will go on, will make this place suck just a little bit more. |
a few people i've known had encounters with van cliburn, and they all said the same basic thing: he was worldly beyond expectations, as knowledgeable talking about Rachmaninoff as about the Mary Tyler Moore Show or the Dallas Cowboys. he invested his wealth wisely, too, and gave back to the world more than he took. i'm sure it's not as rosy as i might imagine but he seemed like a genuine good guy in a field more likely to wring people dry or bitter or a mix of both. and seriously, look for that Rachmaninoff 2nd Sonata, it's on Spotify. his Liszt B Minor Sonata is hot shit, too, at least as far as the 1st movement. |
Thiursday march 7 Oklahoma city Friday march 8 Norman OK Friday nite Dallas courtesy of Southwest Sunday-Mon St Louis Tuesday - Sat Green Bay Wi, with a Wednesday workshop open to you'all working with medicina man Don and christian mystic chris... |
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least. it's one of the places run by the hedary family. antoine hedary came to fort worth from war- torn lebanon in 1976 and opened "hedary's lebanese pizza", thinking "pizza" was the english word for restaurant. a small pleasure. but i'm a small man. |
everything I own. Hello! |
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One of my favorite schizoprenics emptied her bank account and bought a gun stole her boyfriend's unreliable car, all on Thursday, and said good bye to me and to her mother on Tuesday, via text message, and has not been traceable since Friday am went her phone went dead. Interesting work I do. |
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Antigone,how are things going on? Here is cloudy with raining forecast. |
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in years. The water here is horrendous (my cousin works for the water company, and he handed me a bottle of water when I went over to say hi) so I drink it filtered or bottled. I miss Portland's water already, but what can I do? Boyfriend & jobs come higher on the want list than the water. Today I'm doing all the laundry and unpacking all the framed art. Going to ride my bike and buy yeast later and make a pizza! Perhaps I'll write a zine about the move and breaking up with my hometown. |
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I got my car fixed today, it took mechanic one hour to replace the gasket that leaked my spark plug tube, I was impressed by that, and repair cost isn't bad after all. better than the other mechanics. |
It's easy to run from. How do you feel about her? If you don't have feelings for her, tell her soon and do it gently. If you like or love her, explore it and enjoy it. Be gentle to yourself too. Take all the time you need. Be true. I say I moved to San Jose for the jobs, but I wouldn't have explored the idea if it weren't for love. |
i like her a lot, and we always have a good time together. but she needs more than i have to give, and wants more of me than i want from her. nothing is particularly messy or strange, but she dove into this full bore, like there's no tomorrow, seemingly having made up her mind from the start that this was the big one. i don't feel like this is the big one or the last one but am taking it day to day. if i'm making it sound complicated, it's not. she's a nice girl. i haven't dated a lot of nice girls. |
It's tough. You try so hard because you want to love and be loved so badly. Hearing no is rough; not hearing it is worse. Just play gentle. |
marrying my ex wife I wouldn't have an awesome daughter. Best mistake I ever made. |
1. not finishing my PhD...but this really doesn't matter 2. marrying the woman of my dreams ... but this doesn't really matter, we've great children and an amicable divorce 3. divorcing the woman of my dreams.... but this doesn't really matter as it made me the better father I am today and set me free to explore life as i would not have the balls to do so if remaining married 4. marrying again...but this doesn't really matter, because nothing really has changed except the level of anxiety and the level of my 401 k, one rising and the other lowering, and not any of it matters 5. (I'm sure that there are at least five mistakes I can think, think dammit) |
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1. dropped out of high school for apparently no reason. 2. married to that lady who asked me out, not me asking her. But divorced from her after few years. 3. I worked that job that I didn't wanted, should of never listened to my brother who offered me that job. 4. When I quit my old job, I blew all of my old 401k. 5. I made a mistake for being friend to Danielssss... ( just kidding) :-) But, we all made mistakes... dammit. |
you do in the future. being able to learn lessons is key. in any endeavor, make sure you know yourself well enough to know who you're interacting with. |
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Although I've been gossiping up a storm about a temporary co-worker whom no one likes here, and I feel pretty shitty about getting involved with that. That's not who I want to be. |
earlier. I have a tendency to value the opinions/advice of others while diminishing my own. Since I've been doing things that I want life has been so much better. Learning when to hold on, and when to let go. ----- Third morning of living in San Jose. I got a job offer and start next week. My first paycheck will pay for some roller skates. |
an event is just an event. our reponse to the event is what makes it valuable. None of the things I listed were mistakes. True, except one time in a far a way place when I did not speak up and tell the woman in her black dress and red toyota that she was the most beautiful woman on earth, that i had waited forever for her, that coffee was simply not enough, and then again, may be all of that WOULD have been a mistake. I still think she is most beautiful. Hope she got a different more appreciative more available coffee partner. Wiat, maybe it was the coffee that was the mistake, instead of caribbean rum over ice, yes that was it! The secret to happiness. Ay Matey! Arrgh. |
So I'm wondering what I should do with them. I thought I might just hang onto them in a jar or something, but imagining myself opening the mailed package and seeing the ashes of what used to be my mother is very upsetting to me. Typing that sentence almost made me cry. This is horrible...I thought I'd be handling this better. Maybe I'll bury them under a tree, so that her atoms will become part of the tree, and I can visit that tree in the years to come. Hey, like that Tom Waits song, "Green Grass." Stand in the shade of me Things are now made of me She liked Tom Waits. Maybe it would make her laugh. |
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Will we recognize each other without our bodies? I've never met Sarah but I wonder that, her body so important to her. I've met Heather, CZ, and I wonder if I would recognize them without their physical existence...I think I would. If some-thing-one-entities wafter by and whispered Fuck You You Ass, I would know it would be a sorabjite dis-incarnate, right? Sorry Spider, sorry Mark, I'm not very helpful here. Prayers and good wishes to you both. Suicides have a difficult time crossing over into spirit. Envision pushing your parent's soul out of their body from the feet up and out of the top of the head, and let it go. Google psychopomp work. |
has been there for 300 or more years. when my my mother's family settled in texas, they camped under that tree. it's still there; it's known as "the big tree". several people in our family have been cremated and had their ashes scattered on the roots. a number of marriages have been performed in front of it. if i had my 'drothers, i'd want my ashes--my miserable, worthless remains--scattered there. |
worthless. and although your writing is scattered here, i'd like to see them gathered somewhere in one place. like a little book. you can put a copy under the tree. |
would I recognize the ashes then you think? |