…dreams, from ~burning woman~ …by Sha’Tara
Questions that have remained unanswered for me: should dreams be shared with others? Should they remain as “private” information? Are they meant to explain other realities to individuals, or to collectives? Are they part of the the great “collective unconscious”? Information given by “others out there” as warnings? Or simply how our memories, when the body is resting, are re-formatted by the mind to be stored in permanent “hard disk” space?
And speaking of space, I like to think that dreams are like space: if it’s only for me, what a waste!
Especially if one has spent a lifetime learning how to dream, how to retrieve the information imparted there, even something as simple as remembering them. Especially after learning to assimilate day-time and night-time information to create a whole new paradigm of understanding.
So, about those dreams:
Some time ago I had a wild and crazy series of dreams – could have been just one dream covering many scenes and sequences too. The main part takes place on a meadow and grassy fields bordered to the east by a barb-wire fence, to the north by oil refineries on a river and to the west by open country.
I stand at the south, facing north.
The skies are slate grey, dark. A violent storm is blowing, but not a normal wind storm, or hurricane, though the movement of the air is just as great or worse. Best comparison would be a wind tunnel with a giant fan. The “wind” is blowing from the west, carrying anything and everything with it. Nothing is left standing in its path. I see grass, trees, clothing, unrecognizable material things and sheep. Yes, sheep. Blowing in the wind and being thrown violently into the barb wire fence. One is still alive and struggling to free itself but cannot. It has a reed branch pushed sideways through its nose and is trying to push it out with its hoof, unsuccessfully. Gradually, the animal is “emptied” until only a head and skin are left hanging on the wires. White strips of clothing are also ripping and tearing from the barbs and blowing away.
I hear voices, as of people talking from a distance. They are speaking of a “pollution storm” and how they should have known it was coming and done something about it. Then I realize that the “sheep” are really people, or better put “sheeple” — who did not care, did not hear, refused to hear and are now being ripped apart by this “storm” that is anything but natural.
I hear the voices again and they are saying: “We thought the Middle East would have invaded and taken over by now. Wonder why they have not?” But as I looked to the oil refineries, especially at the tall stacks painted a dark, dull, red and black, I notice the lettering on them is Arabic. And again, I realized how the “take-over” was done, not by ordinary people from the Middle East, but by the oil consortiums and I see the connection between the refineries blowing their smoke into the air, and the “pollution storm” that is destroying everything.
I’m unable to truly portray the intensity of this event. I remember feeling a sense of deadness, of deep sadness, knowing that for years the people had been warned of something like this; knowing that it was all preventable with a bit of common sense, some sacrifice and will-power. But the people had been led down the garden path of commercial lies; of bodily comfort at any price and had never learned to reach out to the oppressed who supplied the pre-pollution storm “good life”.
So, I think such a dream is really a prophecy in simple symbols.
The next dream: I am standing in space looking up. I see the moon and the earth further out, at about the same distance away as I am from the moon. Both are incredibly beautiful, reflecting fully the light of the sun.
The information I have is that the moon’s orbit has begun to decay and in a short time the moon will lose it’s ability to remain aloft and go crashing into the earth. Again voices, people around me talking. We have decided to attempt to “prop-up” the moon’s orbit to prevent it from crashing into the planet. In my hands and around me are “spacers” – those flat metal objects we use in venders to correct the spacing between different sizes of cans or bottles and prevent double vends or jams. I’m looking at these familiar things and working out a plan to use them in this endeavor.
Then I begin to understand the significance of these “spacers” — I am not standing “in space” but observing from a space station, or space ship. The “spacers” are us, not the objects. We have come together as people of “space” to prevent a catastrophe, if possible.
Our feelings are quite normal, professional you might say. No fear, no excitement, no despair. It’s as if this situation is not uncommon and we’ve done this before. It’s just a matter of calculating the forces and creating new force-fields to replace those that are collapsing. Yet we are not calloused about the situation and we know that much depends on the people of the planet if it is to survive. We cannot do this thing alone. We can provide the technology but we cannot “DECIDE” the outcome, that is we cannot provide the collective planetary will energy that is absolutely necessary for the success of our efforts on behalf of the people of earth. And we certainly feel empathy for all the life involved here. The empathy is not, for the most part, reciprocated from the planet’s surface. And our chances of success correspondingly diminish.
After I woke up and shook off some of the heavier energies surrounding this event I realized once more how much “detachment” is mis-understood here. Earthians hear “detachment” and sense “I don’t care”. But as the dream showed, the “spacers” (including me) who would save this world cared a great deal more than the people on the planet. They could really care because they were detached about the outcome. They had nothing to lose or gain, whether they failed or succeeded. Either way, they would go on to other duties in “space”. So… they could focus on the problem fully.
Many more details, other events in-between, but this is already too long a read for most.