injury

My visit with Patricia

My visit to the following place had to have been over two hours. The discussion between myself and one other person would fill twice the pages I have here if I wrote it all out. As I like to write out the conversations, I have in my dreams, most of this discussion was on me and my family along with a lot of personal things. Because of this, I only wrote out what pertained to the person and place I was in.

Thursday, April 24, 2014; (Out of body experience)
I had been on a boat for a few minutes when it came to me that I was dreaming. From what I saw, the boat may have been somewhere around 60 feet long and about ten feet wide. It was built as a shuttle because the interior had soft seats lined on each side facing each other. The top was covered in a tinted glass or plastic to protect the passengers from the bright sun and elements. I looked around seeming to be the only one aboard.

I stood and looked out the canopy on each side. The sky was a cloudless Maya blue, and the water around me was vast and calm. To the back of the boat was an open area. I walked to the rear and stood on the stern. A coastline was far behind me from where the boat had left. I turned and headed to the forward section to see who might be piloting the vessel.

The boat was far quieter than I expected, and moved quickly over the water. The bow held a sliding a transparent door which led out to a ten-foot ten-foot square deck. I did not see any cabin or area for piloting. I figured the boat may be self-propelled. I looked out over the water in front. A few miles a head rose a tall structure out of the ocean; it seemed this was my destination.

The structure was a trio of colors. Its main surface was white with dots and streaks of green. Around the dots of green there blazed azure blue lights. As I got closer the structure looked more like an ocean vessel, larger than any, I had ever seen in my reality. Three tall inward curved columns rose into the air and met at a dome structure topped in green.
Soon I began to pick out the green as gardens and the top dome as a forest. People walking along the waters edge of the structure came into view. Just over a mile out I could see the columns outer surface held terraced gardens. The blazing azure blue turned out to be windows set all throughout the structure. A ring of them ran around the edge of the dome. On the level just above the water some fifty feet up to the windows looked to be door openings onto balcony gardens. These were wide and placed about twenty to twenty-five feet apart.

Between the apartments and water line, the structure sloped out into a beach perhaps one hundred feet. This I assumed ran around the entire structure which had to be at least a mile wide or more. An area I was approaching had docks cut into the surface. A few held boats like the one rode in. Standing next to one of the empty docks was a woman looking my way.

The boat slowed and eased into the slip that had been molded into the shape of the boat. The boat docked smoothly and fit into the slip as if it were part of the surface. The woman stood only a few feet away watching me. She had a deep tan unless it had been her natural color. Her hair was curly and held nearly the same tint as her skin coming down to touch her shoulders. She stepped up to the boat and held out her hand; I took it and stepped up next to her.
“William?” she asked surprisingly and with an astonish look.

“Yes.” surprised myself she would know me if this was an out of body experience. With the look on her face, she had not been expecting me.

“Hi, it’s so great to meet you. I’m Patricia.” her gaze at me turned to one as if she were meeting a celebrity for the first time.

“Were you expecting someone else?” I asked.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone. I just found myself here, on the shore of my home. You may not understand, but I’m having a dream or an out of body experience.”

“Then we both are; this must be a meeting place between realities.” I announced to her.

“I only arrived a few moments ago right here. I saw the boat arriving and thought I should wait. When you got close, I noticed you from pictures on the net.”

“Your facial features resemble my daughter.” I told her.

“Really? It does make sense you see; I am the great-granddaughter of your granddaughter Abby.” she said.

“That would make you my,” I had to think, “my great, great, great-granddaughter.”

“Yes.” she asked.

“So you’re in the future while I’m in the past. What year are you from?”

“2105. This is my home.” she waved her left arm over the structure, “or the dream version but, it is accurate.”

“If this is a ship, it’s huge.”

“It’s a floating community, a home. Also an acronym for Habitations Of Mobile Environments. I’ve been trying for years to find out more of my family. There’s not much on my father’s side. All I know of my mothers is my great-grandmother Abby, who I met once when I was five. We stayed with her for a few days. I told her of dreams I had. She said I took that after my great-great grandfather. She said he visited strange places in his sleep and shared them with the world. She added he even had visited her great-granddaughter when she was much older, and her name was Patricia also.”

“Which one was that?” I asked.

“My visit with Patricia.”

“I don’t recall that one.”

“I’m sure. That’s because you haven’t written it yet. My guess is this is it. When you get back in your reality, you’ll write it and post it to the net. It’s how I’ll find you.”

“I would have thought it should have been easy; it’s the Internet. At least, some version of Facebook would still be around.” I said.

“Let me take you on a tour of the place and I’ll explain.”

“Is this keeping within the dream I’ll write out.” I asked.

“Yes.” she began stepping toward the inner structure, I kept to her side.

“There is no Internet, a few things killed it. It took away all privacy. A majority of people dropped it others just got bored. Those that stuck it out began to lose everything. There was so much corruption on the net that millions of people lost everything in stocks, finances and stolen identities. Businesses collapsed from people removing themselves from the online world. Businesses that were off line became the new money makers. The only way to make it, was to stay away from the net. Some government and historical societies kept a lot of the data for history, but it soon became illegal to keep any personal information.”

By this time, we made it up the slopped embankment to an opening to the interior. While we had walked and I listened, I took in the scene around me. The material we walked on was white and soft. There were no seams or breaks in the surface. Pineapple, banana and other fruit trees grew in single file’s dozens of feet from the waters edge.
We entered an enormous hall that ran out of sight in the curved part of the HOME.

“I would really like to know more of my family.” she said, bringing us to a stop in front of a large ten feet high and twelve long curved screen. “My mother and father raised me on the oceans, and we never did any visit family but for once, on my mother’s side. I met my great-grandmother, Abby, when I was about five. I think we stayed with her for several days.”

The conversation bounced back and forth from changes of the twenty century to our family. She explained that due to the collapse of the Internet and financial institutions, governments went down or declared Marshall law. The United states was one that declared. With Marshall, law came the militia breaking out small wars throughout the states. Between the fighting, flooding and devastating storms, families were separated.

Even through all the hardships many cities and communities made it. While factories went down those that held the 3d printers could provide many needed resources. Buy the time all things were falling apart, 3d printers had advanced to the stage of building homes, structures and also caused a further economic collapse due to being self-sufficient. One major export of the printers was floating vessels.

Barges were the easiest of the vessels to print out, and size was never a problem. Like Lego’s, these barges could lock together, and soon small communities were being built upon the water. The printers built their own replacement parts along with any parts or repairs needed for the H.O.M.E’s. Once you added dirt and gardens, the H.O.M.E communities cut themselves off from the main lands.

As printers could build copies of themselves, many were established throughout the world until even most communities had them. If you could grow your own food, the printer provided everything else including weapons. Years later another advance was when printer technology began to print out food. It was not the best tasting or nutritious, but it kept you alive.

With most, all needs met, a person never had to work for anyone else to earn a living. Factories, banks and cities collapsed further. Money soon became obsolete. Once things began to settle down on land, many fed up with the governments also turned to the seas.

The screen we stood in front of came on. An image of the HOME shown from several hundred feet above and off to one side. As we exchanged information, me supplying family knowledge and her a HOME tour.

The H.O.M.Es were totally self-sufficient. The main body was doughnut shaped. The top side was flat where the gardens grew. On the outside, living quarters ran mostly around the structure. Below the living quarters, the surface gently slopped outward into the water creating a beach shoreline. Around the shoreline grew fruit trees. The white material that made up the HOME also captured energy. It collected this energy through solar and pressure. A wave, the wind, even a foot step against the surface produced energy, which was transferred to batteries. All windows throughout the HOME were transparent and solar collectors; the structure brought in far more energy than needed. Water was collected from rain and sea.

Even cities on land were being made of the same material which led to utilities company’s becoming obsolete. Oil and coal were no longer needed stopping most productions. The biggest problems now in Patricia’s time were storms. On land, the storms caused floods, drought and crop damage. Since printed homes were designed to handle most weather, they still did no good if the area you lived in became unlivable. The H.O.M.Es solved this problem. Massive engines moved the structures away from hurricanes and rough seas while also directing them in the path of rain that fed the corps and filled reservoirs.

This movement also kept them away from skirmishes on land and water. At the time, it was the habit for these ocean communities to run on silence. Satellites easily picked them up, but if you did not know which nationality, a H.O.M.E held, usually it was left alone. Patricia moved to this HOME when hers reached its population quota. Every home had a limit on its population and once met; volunteers were asked to relocate to new HOME. Patricia had moved to this HOME almost ten years ago where she met her husband, and they had a seven-year-old daughter.

Under the garden which was the interior top floor were most of the living quarters. On the inside ring across from the living quarters were the cafeterias. No one had kitchens in their homes. On the lower, level were shops and entertainment areas. These levels of the interiors were and wide and high. Light shafts all throughout the hall brought in streaming beams of light.

Trenches of soil ran along each wall and from those grew flower and fruit trees up to thirty feet. On each side of the living quarter’s doors, occupants grew plants and bushes of their choice. The whole inside on each level was an arboretum. The next level down held manufacturing from parts, boats and food production. Although I never got a chance to visit the area, An outer area next to manufacturing was transparent. One could walk or sit and take in the ocean from many feet under.

The screen we stood in front of was so clear that it gave me the sensation I was actually floating through each part of the HOME. Outside in the center of the ring, held the HOMES reservoir and water park. Swimming, snorkeling, water rides, skiing and so on. The three main columns that rose from the inner edge and connected to the large dome above, were terraced living quarters. These quarters were often taken by patrons once a new H.O.M.E. Patricia’s husband and daughter lived in one of the columns.

Quarters in the ring were usually taken by new comers later and/ or children who had become adults and moved out. All living quarters held a balcony. On these balconies were small gardens that the occupants grew. The gardens could be anything from extra foods that families wanted for themselves or foods that were not grown in the community gardens. These foods were then used for bartering.

The dome on the H.O.M.E. had two purposes. The top area was set up as a park and forest which included animals such as deer, raccoons, squirrels and other creatures that were community safe. The underside of the dome held an amphitheater large enough for the entire population.

During the tour of the HOME, she also described how she had come about finding me. The so-called Internet had not completely died but only carried information. Because of the straggle hold it had on the world it was now known as the “net.” To stop the damage of identity thief it became illegal to place any personal information on the net. Even information on deceased people was forbidden due to leading to family members.

While the net began to crash in the first quarter of the 21st century, countless information was lost. The only information Patricia had on her family had been a great-grandmother named Abby, and her great-great-great grandfather named William. There was no longer a web and Patricia had to locate each company or Historical society that had information from the early 21st century.

She searched personal dreams, which brought up billions of hits. From there she searched the dreams with an author named William, this reduced her findings down to millions. There she hunted for any that had the name Abby and Patricia; the total was still near a million. She spent months in pursuit hitting dead ends or new searches. Then one day a thought came to her.

Her great grandmother Abby had mentioned the dream her grandfather had had. If he had placed it on the net for all to see, perhaps he would have given it an easy title. Patricia went as far as to believe that if William had indeed visited her in the future she could give him the title. Patricia typed in, “My visit with Patricia.” Only one came up. From there she found hundreds thousands of my dreams and a few sites I had were on file.

Due to personal information laws the only way, she had to find out more on me, and our family was if she had the personal passwords to those sites. At that point, I gave Patricia the code on how all my passwords were set up. I also informed her that she would find a genealogy list of our family that went back hundreds of years.

I stepped up to Patricia and gave her a long deep hug. She hugged me back, but I could still see may have been a bit confused.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I don’t know when one of us may be waking up and I didn’t want to depart without hugging you.”
She leaned into me again and gave me another hug.

“When you get back could you tell my great grandmother hello for me?” she requested.
“I will but she’s only eight, she might not understand.”

“You can wait until she’s older.” Patricia said.

“No, I’m going to tell her as soon as I get back. Besides, I have to write about all this so you can find me.”

“People may think you’re a bit crazy.” she said smiling.

“From this dream? Obviously, you haven’t read many of my dreams.” I told her.
My eyes batted open as music from my alarm woke me.

PinPointing A.R.T.

As I begin to write this out, the date is Thursday, April 3, 2014. The date of the following out of body experience is 1994. As in all of my out of body experiences, they live alongside the everyday experiences of my life. Back then I was sharing my dreams with whomever might be interested. As far as my out of body experiences, they were rarely shared but for my wife and kids. When I would add them to my journal, the descriptions were brief because I already had the details and events in my memory.

Now I am sharing with the world so the time has come to write it all out. Like any memory I have, the events, here are still fresh in my mind. Although the discussions in the following OBE are not word-for-word, they are very close. The decision to put this OBE out, there is due in part to a few others I want to post but would not make any sense without this one going out first.

1994; OBE

My alarm went off awakening me from my night’s sleep. I reached around the head of the bed and shut it off. I am usually awake a couple of hours before sunrise but this morning the sun was already beaming through the curtained window. Even stranger, I would never set my alarm for after sunrise. I opened my eyes and took a look around the room. I was taken back because it was not my room.

I was in a twin bed that sat in a small room perhaps 12 x 14. A single window let in the morning sun on the opposite wall. On the wall to the left of the head of the bed was a door. The wall running at a right angle from the door had an open closet full of mens’ clothes. A dresser stood just to the right of the closet door. I threw back the sheets and sat up. I briefly wondered how I had gotten here but more importantly, where was I?

I looked down and saw I had on a pair of boxers. I knew right then I was having an out of body experience because I don’t wear boxers. I walked over to the closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, a shirt and some socks out of the dresser. I found a pair of shoes next to the bed. After I dressed I left the bedroom. The door opened into a short hallway. To the left was another bedroom at the end and two doors along the same wall as mine. To the right, the hall opened to a larger room with wide windows.

I stopped at the end of the hall to the right. It opened into a small well furnished and decorated living room. To the right of the living room was a table for four. At the table sat my then ten-year-old son Jonathan. Although I was well in his sight, he did not turn to look at me but stared straight ahead. I walked over to the table which brought into view a small kitchen. My birth mother was cleaning up some dishes that were in the sink. I turned back to my son who I now stood in front of, but he took no notice of me.

“Would you like some breakfast?” my mother asked looking over at me.

“No thank you,” I responded, and she went back to cleaning.

(While in an OBE I always try to act natural, it gives me less time explaining myself and more for exploring.)

I looked back at my son. His eyes were a bright copper color and unblinking. I bent down to look into his face, still he took no notice of me. I caught a movement in his pupils and leaned over closer to him until I was within a foot of his eyes. The lenses of his eyes looked to be made of glass and behind them were tiny moving parts like the inside of a watch.

“I just fed him,” my mother said, causing me to jerk back upright. Her voice startled me.

I looked at her, then back to my son.

“What’s wrong with his eyes?” I asked

“Nothing, everything is working fine.” she said.

“Working? They’re not real?” I thought about his emotionless face and still form. “Is he an android?” I asked looking from her to him.

“What?” My mother looked at me as if I were crazy then she responded, “You’re not Philip.”

I stood there looking at her, not quite sure how to respond. As I stood motionless she added, “You’re one of those counterparts.”

“You’re aware of who I am?” I asked her.

“I am aware of who you’re not. You need to get to the college,” she said.

“What college?” I asked.

“The one down there,” she pointed out the rear of what I believed was an apartment. To the left of the kitchen were a set of sliding glassing doors. I looked back at her.

“Why do I need to go there? And what kind of college is it?”” I asked.

“I’m not sure why. I don’t understand most of it. However, Philip always said, if this happened, convince his counterpart to get over to the center building of the college. That’s the main building for the College of Art.” she finished.

I looked out the sliding glass door she pointed to. Outside ran a sidewalk between what looked from here to be apartment buildings or condos. She walked over to the door and slid one side open.

“Why a college of art?” I asked.

She had a nervous but stern look on her face as if I were someone who had just broken into her home, I then realized I kind of had. I was a stranger not only in her home but her son’s body. I decided to take her advice.

“You need to go,” she said.

I began to move a couple of steps toward the door and stopped. I looked back at Jonathan.

“What’s going on with my son and his eyes?” I asked.

“He’s not your son, he’s Philip’s. He was in an accident which caused brain injuries. It’s in the healing center.”

“His brain has been removed?” I asked in shock.

“Well it’s kind of hard to care for an organ when it’s inside the body. You need to leave or I will have to call campus security.”

She held the door in her right hand while showing me the exit with her left. I looked between her and my son and thought it best to take her advice so, I walked out and took a left onto the sidewalk.

The sky was a cloudless unblemished blue as I walked between apartments and well trimmed lawns. The buildings were made of brick and seemed to be trimmed out in stone or perhaps granite. The design was beautiful. After a while, the apartments ended and opened up to three large buildings some 300 yards away. The school had the same design and trim work as the apartments.

Two large twin buildings set on each side of what I took as the central building. The building in the middle resembled a state capital with the columns and dome. This I guessed would be where I needed to check in. The sidewalk running from the apartments continued up the left side of the campus and made its way in front of all three buildings. Once it came to the end of the far building it split in two, one following the building around back and the other somewhere off on the other side of the apartment buildings.

The center of the three buildings was a small park. A few trees, a large pond and lots of people strolling around, sitting or just napping under the sun. Just as I came up on the first building on my left I heard my counterpart’s name being called out.

“Philip?” It came as a question from a female voice. I turned looking in the direction of the park. I caught sight of a young woman approaching and looking in my direction. She was slim about five-five with light brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. She wore a dark-blue blouse along with jeans and tennis shoes.

She stepped up to me.

“I thought you had the day off?” she asked. I was not sure how to respond so I just said,

“I have something to take care of in here.” I said waving up at the main building. I turned to walk away in hopes no questions would be asked. She gripped my arm. I stopped.

“In there?” she asked. “Are you Philip or a counterpart?”

I was silent for only a couple of seconds, but it had been enough that she knew.

“You’re not Philip,” she stated.

“No. My name is William. My mother or Philips mother,” I corrected myself, “said I needed to come here.”

“She told you? You didn’t know that for yourself?” the woman asked.

“How would I know that?”

“You’ve never been here.” It was a statement more than a question, but I answered.

“Of course not. As you know, I’m his counterpart.”

She wrapped her left arm into my right.

“Come on. I’ll explain, time is of the essence. Do you understand what’s happening to you? Why you’re here?” she asked as she guided me to the next building over.

“I know I’m in an out of body experience. I’m just taken back that others are aware of it also. Philip’s mother was adamant that I come here,” I said, pointing to the middle building, “I only came because I knew she was uncomfortable with me in her home, and I’m more curious as to why I need to come to a museum.” I could see her working on what I had said.

“A museum?” she wondered.

“Yes, she told me to get to the art building.”

“What was your reason for being here?” she asked.

“I’m having an out of body experience.”

“Out-of-body-experience.” She sounded each word out separately. “I like that, out of body experience,” she repeated. “Here we call it ART; Alternate Reality Traveling. It’s rare we get anyone from a new reality, especially here on campus. Philip is one of our top travelers and pinpoint readers. That’s the ART welcome center.” She pointed to the center building. “It’s where ambassadors from other realities check in.”

“Check in?” I asked.

“Yes but we need to get you over to a mapping room.” Her arm still in mine she moved to a quicker pace toward the far building.

“What is the mapping room?” I asked.

“There.” She pointed to the furthest building. “someone at the ART building would have escorted you there. A pinpoint reader would then help to identify which reality you come from in hopes of establishing communications with your reality.”

“You can map where other realities are?” I asked.

“Sure, doesn’t your reality include training and locating in ART or out of body experience?” The term seemed to flow across her speech.

“Not really. There are some who teach it but for the majority it’s not taken seriously.” I explained.

“We come across a lot of realities that don’t place a high priority on it but not many that don’t take it seriously. So far, we haven’t found any that are as committed as us. It’s a shame because so many realities could benefit from it.”

“How?” I asked, “you can’t bring anything back with you.”

“That’s another one so many fail on. We bring back the most priceless commodity of all, knowledge. Sixty to seventy percent of our technology comes from the study of more advanced realities than ours.”

“Back at the apartment of my counterpart, his son was part machine. Is that part of the technology? My mother said his brain was in the healing center.”

“That’s right. Philip’s son was in a car accident with severe brain damage. We have the ability to remove the brain and other organs until they can be repaired. It’s much easier that way also. The patient doesn’t have to stay in the hospital or continually be cut open to get to the organ. While they’re outside the body, mechanisms are put in place. In his son’s case, the brain has been replaced with a network that will keep the body mobile and fit until the brain is well enough to be put back.”

“If there was that much damage will he be the same?” I asked, concerned. “I’m sure you have the capability to return all his motor skills but what about memories. Will he be the same person as before?”

“I guess you don’t have neuron recorders in your reality?”

“I’m not sure what you’re taking about?”

“We have a band placed around our heads while we sleep. It records all of that day’s memories and any dreams or A.R.T.’s, we have during the night.”

“Like the one I woke up with,” I mentioned.

“Yes. The recorder saves that day’s memories along with all other previous memories. At least once a week it replays those recording back to our brain, which enhances our recall. He’ll be fine.”

“And no, we don’t have anything like your recorders. We’re no where this advanced. I am curious about some things. Where is Philip right now if I am here in his body? Is he back in mine?” I asked.

“Probably not. He is in an ART himself. The void he left in his mind allowed you access. It’s a rare and nice coincidence, counterparts in an ART at the same time.”

“That’s another thing. I have traveled to a lot of places. Most wouldn’t have a counterpart of me there, yet I’m there in my real form.”

“We’re all pure energy. Your flesh back in your own reality keeps that energy bottled up as a vessel. In an ART state, you materialize your form. Although its energy is not physical, that’s why we don’t have to worry about being injured or death. If you’re asking these questions, my guess is your culture doesn’t place a lot of growth in achieving higher realms. Obviously, some do but not the majority.”

By this time, we made it up to the steps of the mapping building.

The building’s architecture inside was completely different from its outside. Where the exterior had been three stories of brick, mortar and granite, the interior was glass, Plexiglas and tile. The main hall was perhaps a hundred feet wide and separated in the middle by six escalators that ran to each floor. The escalators were parted by ten to twelve feet, so they never blocked the full view of the building behind them. The walls they ran between were thick glass or some see though material so, once again the view was hardly blocked. All the walls but a few throughout the interior also were see through. I could even see through walls that from the outside had been bricked.

“How can we see through the walls when their solid from the outside?” I asked.

“The outside structure isn’t really there. The entire building is rectangular and made up of transparent polymer. What you see on the outside is a 3D projection on the surface. We can also do the same for any of the interior walls like the ceiling.” she pointed up to the transparent roof. “Turn everything off and all you would see it a six-story clear glass building.” she explained.

“But I counted three stories” I looked at her, “even here I see only three.”

“Floors four, five and six are dedicated as meditation areas of travel. Outside they project the sky around them. Above us, the outside sky is shone just as it is.”

I was amazed at what I saw. The ceiling looked to be only a large window into the blue sky with the sun shining down on us.

“All the walls are the same.” she pointed to the clear walls the escalators ran up and down on, “those also can project images placed on them.”

We took one of the escalators up to the second floor. Just off to the right was a large room with several people standing with their backs to us. Their focus was through a clear wall into another room. A door slid back, and we stepped inside with the others. In the adjourning room was a man bent over a table perhaps six feet by six feet.

“This is one of our map rooms.” she said nodding to the other room.

The table top was thin and its main color was as dark blue. Hundreds or maybe thousands of small silver circles covered the top, many lapping over one another. Where the circles intersected each other, the crossed sections glowed gold. The entire thing was very beautiful. Looking closer at the detail, the circles glowed a in many tones of the dark blue while others held a glossy black.

They were all focusing on a small gadget on the table the man had. It seemed to be some kind of compass made of stainless steel. It had several rotating arms mounted on thin rings. All the arms centered and rotated around a small gold disk about the size of a shirt’s button. The top-most arm was the longest and started at the disk. The disk and it swiveled together. It reached out like a tiny sword about six inches and at the point held a minute clear lens. Below this arm, were seven others at about three inches in length and below them seven pairs an inch shorter. I noticed the man manipulating the device had an emblem on his dark-blue shirt on the left of his chest. The emblem was the device.

“What is all this?” I asked the woman.

“This is a map of the known realities. The instrument there is the Pinpoint which locates and maps the realities. The circles are other realities. The pinpoint locates and map’s realities we have visited. The darker the blue the more established communication we have with them. If you see two crossing over there will be these two bright spots where they meet. Inside the eye shape, they create is the ethereal plane. We can’t actually visit these realities by ART, but we can get pretty good idea of their culture by the energy patterns. We tend to stay away from these realities only because they are less advanced.”

“How can anyone track dreams and out of body experiences?”

“Easy, energy patterns. Doesn’t your world do that?” she asked.

“No, for the most part, the majority believes OBEs are just realistic dreams,” I said.

“We run across some like that. It’s what we call low energy realms. Instead of building a higher awareness level, they are usually found supporting material gain instead. That’s what the black areas are.

“Yea, that sounds like mine. So you just stay away from those?”

“It’s not that we stay away from them but because the energy fields are much lower it repels the higher one. There are very few ARTs that can or have visited those realities. Most don’t last very long,” she said.

“You mean the visits?”

“No, their world.” She turned her attention to the man in the room and knocked on the wall. The man looked up in shock as if he would never have expected to be disturbed. He then saw the woman who had knocked and gave her a look as if she were out of her mind. She pointed to me.

“New arrival,” she said loudly mouthing the words so her lips could be read also. The man stared at her. shrugging his shoulders.

“First timer!” She got louder mouthing the words plainly.

The man’s eyes went wide as he looked at me then back to the woman. She was shaking her head. The man stood upright and rushed to the wall which parted allowing us access. The woman stepped through the opening pulling me in with her. The wall closed behind us.

“His name is William.” She said introducing me, “his reality may be a low-energy dimension. He’s been here for sometime so I’m not sure, how long he has.”

The man still had not said a word until he reached over to the pinpoint and held it in front of me.

“Place your finger on the collector,” he said.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” I said.

“Here.” He pointed to the small gold disk in the center. “It will read your energy field and help us to find where and if you’re on the map.”

I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to participate.

“You won’t feel anything, but it will place your reality on the map,” the woman said.

I reached out and laid my middle right hand finger on the disk. I had no more placed it there when the man pulled it away and sat the pinpoint back on the table.

“The pinpoint can read energy fields immediately,” the woman informed me. “The first place he sits it back on is our reality and begins from there.”

“So it pinpoints the reality, which gives it the name,” I mentioned.

“Yes.” she said, “but, it’s also an acronym. Position indicator pinpointing infinite trajectories.”

My attention went back to the man and the map. The yellow jewel embedded in the middle suddenly seem to glow a bit brighter on one side. The man swung the top-most arm in the direction of the brightness. The woman leaned into my right ear.

“The collector has tiny chambers that distribute your energy pattern. The rings making up the realities are recorded energy patterns also. The pinpoint is on the map starting in this reality. Your energy pattern flows to the side of the collector which picks up the direction of similar patterns. The top arm is then turned to that direction. The sensors below help to focus on those patterns, while the bottom sensor’s repel others that would not match.”

The man turned the top set of the sensors slowly in the same area. The brighter spot on the disk faded, and he stopped the turn. He then began turning another sensor. Once the area illuminated again he stopped.

It took some time, but I realized he manipulated the middle sensor arms when the jewel was lit. He then adjusted the bottom sensors until it went out. When he seemed please with the arrangement, he marked the area by where the lens of the top arm sat over. The spot on the map lit up, same size and shape as the lens. The man then pushed the pinpoint’s center to the spot and started over again.

I stood watching intently waiting for my reality to, hopefully be found. A few minutes more went by when things blurred and went dark. I looked around to see I was back in bed, in my reality.

Castrating Fear

In the following dream, I recall an accident at the age of twelve. The accident and description are both real.

Thursday, March 20, 2014; (Unconscious dreaming)

I was standing in an operating room in front of a gurney. There were three staff members on the side of the gurney across from me, behind them were six copper looking tanks. On the gurney before me was the surgeon instead of a patient. The surgeon claimed to have a way of healing diseased body parts. The parts of the body that were infected had to be cut off and soaked in a chemical bath for some time. Once the disease was gone, and the part was healed it could be easily reattached to the person. The doctor was explaining all of this to me because I had a disease he wanted to help me get rid of. I had been very skeptical so the doctor was operating on himself.

The surgeon was in the process of cutting off his own limbs. As they came off, his staff placed them in small tanks. Once the doctor was down to one arm, his torso and head, he explained to me that all would be soaked for one year. After one year, his staff would put him back together and reanimate him. I stood there as the staff removed his arm and head placing them along with his torso in the tanks.

A year later I found myself standing next to the doctor who had been recently reanimated and restored back to health. It was late afternoon on the corner of a crossroad. I recognized the intersection. It was a spot where I had been hit by a car at age twelve. Standing there in the dream, I relived the accident in my mind. An impatient driver in a dune buggy, accelerating around a car in front of him that had come to a stop in the road. He jestered to the stopped driver as he passed, his attention being bought back to the road by a sudden impact at the front of his car.

I recalled the sound of an accelerating engine and looked to my left. I only saw a glimpse of the car’s hood as my body was viciously slammed down on its top. Witnesses said I had gone through the windshield then made contact with the rear roll bar. This flipped me into the air and deposited me two lanes over on the side of the road.

As the doctor and I stood on the corner where I first entered the road on my bike, I looked across at the place my body had landed. On that spot stood a book store. I could just read a sign on the door, “Closed after hours.”

We need to get in the bookstore,” the doctor said.

But it’s closed,” I told him, pointing to the sign on the door.

You have the keys. We can go over, and you can unlock the door,” he suggested.

I looked at the spot the store sat, remembering when I had awakened sometime after the accident, I could only open my right eye. A friend’s mother was over me saying something but either I could not hear her or maybe did not recall what she was saying. I felt numb all over and tilted up my head. She pushed my head back down holding me still but not before I had had a brief glimpse. Most of my left sides were covered in blood and bent in odd angles. I looked back over to her, seeing one of her hands covered in blood and wondering where she had gotten it. Things went dark until I came to later in the hospital.

Standing there, I thought about the hospitalizations, the surgeries but mostly the many months of healing, rehabilitation and learning to walk all over again. My biggest memory was the pain; it was always there. Some worse than others but it was many months before it crept out of my body.

I don’t feel comfortable going across,” I informed the doctor.

I know you don’t; that’s why I am here. I can help you,” he assured me. “But,” he continued, “it’s going to take a lot of courage and trust from you.”

I knew he was talking about surgery but could not fathom what he would be removing that would help me.

What needs to be done?” I asked.

You’ll need to be castrated,” he responded.

In shock, I looked at him hoping he was joking. He looked back at me sternly.

It’s the only way I can help you,” he said. “The removal is only for a short time and when things are reattached, you will be much better.”

I looked back to the store and all the memories of that day many years ago. I wanted to get to the store. However, fear overrode any of those wants, but I knew the doctor was right. He stepped away from me and toward a parked car. He opened the door and looked back at me.

We need to go now if you want my help,” he said.

I’m not sure, how long I stood there, but eventually I walked over and got in.

My next recall was stepping out of my car from the passenger side. My wife drove me from the hospital back home. I got out and walked down the driveway.

Are you Ok?” she asked.

I’m fine,” I replied. “It’s just a strange feeling not having anything down there,” I added. I was given orders to keep my strength up by walking around and doing my regular activities.

I’m just going to roam around the yard for a while,” I informed her.

I’ll be in the house if you need me,” she said.

She went inside, and I took a few slow walks around the house. I was not in any pain or discomfort; I just could not get over the empty or missing sensation of not having any male parts. My friend and neighbor, Tom came over to check on me.

How long before things can be reattached?” he asked.

Several months before the disease is gone, then a couple more to begin replacing things. The doctor assured me I would be good as new,” I told him.

You think it will be worth it?” he asked.

I believe it will,” I assured him.

Defining the dream;

I am having some anxiety about making more changes with expandurmind.com, because of the effort, time and money they will cost. In the dream my unconscious is the surgeon, someone whom I trust and take advice from.

Dismemberment has many meanings, one of which is the removal of habits. In my case, the habit is a fear which in the dream is a disease. Dissecting it will remove the fear then put things back together to a much better state than before. The surgeon explains the operation to me, in this case the operation is my site, time and money. Dissecting himself convinces me this is a good thing and should ease my tension.

Most of the time a dream crossroad is the decisions we have to make. I am sure a bit of that is true here. However, it is also where my habit of fear started. Through the pain and suffering experienced in my rehabilitation, people did their best to calm my fears. If pain became too much they stopped. If I was afraid of falling out of my wheelchair or not being stable on crutches, I was not pressured. I learned quickly to let fear guide me until it became a habit, keeping me safe and most of the time stopping me from taking unnecessary chances. This fear is valuable to me and not easy to let it go of.

The book store is my mind, and all my ideas sit inside lined on the selves. The store will remain closed until I unlock the doors. Fear keeps me from crossing into that spot. The surgeon still at my side, tells me the only way to make it to the store is through castration.

When it comes to the sexual organs, it’s not always about sex or the organ. A lot of the time it’s about energy, expression or the things we refuse to let go of, such as fear. The surgeon explains that it would only be temporary. If I allow myself to be castrated, “discard the fear” I can move across the street.

Once I get used to living without it, I can have it reattached. I took my surgeons (unconscious’) advice and went through with the castration. My neighbor asks me if it was for the best. I confirm it is, which gives me the answers I sought out. Break the habit and set the fear aside, let it become a tool to use not a habit to guide me.

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The Pancake People

The Pancake People

From the age of 8 or 9, I began keeping track of my life and my dreams through journals. At age fifteen, I came home from school to find that my birth mother had thrown them all out.

Boys don’t keep diaries,” she said. Truth is she did not want anyone else reading the things she had done. The very next day, I started all over again.

From there, four years of journals suddenly disappeared at the same time I broke up with a live-in girlfriend. Later, seven years of journals went the way of my first marriage. After that, I just stopped writing.

(“Do you see a pattern here?” My wife asks, as she edits my work. I simply shake my head in frustration.

Do not get me wrong, I’ve lost a few as well.” I reply.)

In the early to mid nineties, the journal bug caught me again.

In the late nineties, I discovered computers. At home, all my writing went into the digital format. Outside I always kept a spiral notebook for writing. I would usually transfer this over to the PC. As a novice on computers, I knew about keeping the maintenance up on them; however, I misinterpreted the true meaning of formatting and went to clean up my hard-drive; it worked! Now I became my journals’ own worst nightmare.

Thankfully, a close friend of my father’s whose personal business had been computer programming and repair, took me under his wing. From then on I have praised technology and learned a lot more. While the cloud was nothing more to look up at, I found the haven of on-line storage. This has been a blessing.

It further renewed my energy for journal keeping. This also was a part of my decision to start my on-line journal. Even if the web went down, my worlds are safe for a period in the minds of my readers.

A lot of dreams have slipped through my fingers each time a journal is lost. I am sure they are in the thousands. The biggest part I missed of my journals, are the written pages about my children growing up. Thankfully, I have my memories, and some stick in there harder than others.

Like the time my daughter, then 4 years old, learned to cut her own hair and earned the name, “Spike” for several weeks and at 5, when she had the habit of running into things and a friend gave her the name, “Bumpy-head.” It was funny, especially on her first day of school. I was informed that when the children were giving out their names, my daughter added Bumpy-head in hers.

Among other memories that have not faded, is that of my oldest son Jonathan then 7, bursting through the front door. In the dead heat of summer, he had run home from nearly a mile away.

What’s wrong?” I asked in a panic.

A girl threatened to hit me with a bat if I did not kiss her!” he said panting through his little sweaty face.

Oh! So did you kiss her?” I asked laughing.

Nooo! I ran home.”

Of course after his first kiss, it was hard keeping him home.

I would have to say the best one were both sons, Daniel around 9 and Jonathan about 10. For several hours they pulled off having me and my wife believe the two of them were telepathic. Trust me, it was very well played.

Like any day during the life of William Carroll, my out-of-body and astral travels are just another experience etched in my memories. Sometime ago, my youngest son asked me to place in my blog one of his favorites, (I had always shared my travels with my children); he calls it ‘the pancake people’.

I have wanted to publish it many times but the problem lies in the ending of the event. For about fifteen years I have tried to comprehend what took place. The inner action between me and the being was so alien, that even the concept of describing it has been impossible.

Mid-90’s astral travel:

In my astral form, I came aware inside what I believe to be a tan colored fog. Soon something below begins to come into focus. I was slowly dropping to the surface of a world. The fog is thin enough to see through and there is very little color here, only different shades of browns and tans. Dropping closer, I briefly thought the fog was smoke because I saw countless dots of the vapor rising from the ground.

Getting closer, the trails of vapor formed lines. The fog is actually dust and rising from hundreds of well-kept lines. The lines remind me of blood vessels going off in all directions. These lines are made up of thousands of dots. Things would have been easier to tell apart if there were a variety in color. Approaching, I could see that the dots were moving up and down hills. They ran in and out of thick patches of dust in between the hills. As I approached, their forms became better distinguished. These were living beings; creatures made up of a leathery skin, much like the pachyderm. Their form is nothing more than disks stacked one on top of another.

I glided overhead watching them as they went through their routine. I could not see any other plant or other animal life. Here in this spot, there was only the ground and the creatures. I tried to determine if they were intelligent. Their movements are all much the same, like columns of ants but unlike ants, none seemed to be independent or drift out of their lines. I drifted in closer until only a few dozen were in my view. From here I could make out more detail. They all seemed to have had the same width and build, being made up of six disk segments. The bottom disk vibrated, moving them over the ground but also kicking up huge amounts of dust.

The outer edges of the middle four disks, were embedded in bone or a version of teeth. The bone or teeth, had a greater resemblance to the pachyderm toenails with dirty worn groves. I moved ahead of one of the lines, holding yards above them to see where they were going or coming from. The line was on a downward spiral around a hill. The path they traveled on had nearly the same width as the base of the creatures. Should one ever veer slightly out, it would meet its demise below.

As I move along the line, I studied the top disk of a couple of the beings. In the top disk are set six dimples, one in the middle and five surrounding it. The outer five are equally placed and centered between the middle dimple and edge of the disk. The beings’ outside dimples open sporadically, two at a time, one blowing out while the other sucks inward. I am guessing this is their version of breathing. I never witness the middle dimple open.

Continuing on, I see the passage, the beings and I are following, intersect with another running between two hills. From the opposite way come more of these creatures, but they are fatter. Instead of six disks, they have four but the middle two are bulging out and upward as if about to burst. Just before I float through the twin peaks, I notice two of the creatures come to an impasse. Instead of one stopping and allowing the other to pass, the six disk creature makes a hard left. This turn deliberately sends it off the path and over the edge of the cliff. I can barely see through the thick dust, but I can make out the result. The only way to describe the scene, is that it’s like dropping a watermelon off a high building down onto the pavement.

I am taken back by what has happened. Neither line so much as stalls, and I cannot understand the reasoning behind the act. I continued following the line. At the bottom, I saw what was causing the larger amount of dust. The six disk creatures are filing along the base of another hill. At this point, they press themselves against the wall as they move. Their nails press into the material and began their own vibration. The vibration was like a jack hammer chipping away at the stone. As this happens, the chips are caught between the two pairs of middle disks.

Their forms very slowly rotate clockwise as they chip at the wall. The chips and dirt are packed between the two pairs of middle disks by the beings’ vibrations. The upper and lower disk nails used as jack hammers now clamp together like a zipper. They then move over to the line of others hauling the material away. So in fact they all are made up of six disks which they can use for carrying. I drifted out to the flat area away from the edge, coming across the creature that threw itself over the side. Its remains were scattered and mixed among others that seemed to have done the same. They did not look to have any bone or organs that I can tell. They appear to consist of dark pinkish flesh and veins.

The veins were of different sizes and oozed a slow thick yellowish sustenance, apparently used as blood. Looking deeper, I saw the flesh was like coiled rope or cable; my guess is this must have been muscle. Gliding across the remains of others, it appeared that only the outer disks had burst open. The center always seemed to have stayed intact. I sailed over the carnage coming up on another line grinding away at a hillside. I watched, noting that the lines are always moving at the same slow rate. As the creatures take their turn at the wall, others passed until they found an open spot. Once the being becomes full, it moves out and another immediately takes the vacant spot.

I was close enough to one, so that when it pulled away from the wall, I was in the way. I shifted quickly around to the vacant spot the other had left. In turn another came in taking its place. In my astral state, nothing should happen other than my passing through it and out the other side. I skimmed upward, going through it from about the middle. As soon as I made contact, my entire consciousness stretched out in all directions. I felt myself take on a physical form that moved in lines of every direction. I tried to move my arms and legs but instead, I had hundreds, perhaps thousands of limbs. My mind became overwhelmed in chaos.

Moving what I thought was just one limb, sends dozens off in every direction. I feel my limbs start to break apart perhaps dissolving. Pieces fall away and yet as they do, my mind became clearer. Without so many limbs, and their makeup to control, I could get a better grip on my current surroundings. I settled into a single form and tried to move. My limbs now seemed to be combined in layers rather than hanging from my torso. I played with the thought of turning around away from the wall. When I did I felt myself move in sections from the top down to the bottom.

I felt a forceful tightening in my center twisting in on itself. Once the top part of me stopped, the core muscle snapped the bottom part around. I was dizzy and confused feeling like a drunk man. I went to walk a few steps, instead I leaned sending vibrations throughout my base. My bottom half slid forward catching up to the top of me. I was not able to counteract or stop the move, throwing me off balance; I toppled over. As I fell, the impact was soft, and I began to roll, on my side, on my back, it all seemed the same. I tried to place a limb down to stop the rolling, but one side of me went flat, bringing me to rest. I scanned around to see the creatures. Their formations were broken apart, most seemed to wander around aimlessly.

A circle of them gathered around me as I squirmed on my side. I wanted to sit back up, but I had no legs to pull under me or arms to lean on. To stand, I would need to collapse my top folds while squeezing fluids into the bottom base while bending from the waist. However, I had no waist; it was a center core. I went to move one way, but my body was telling me to move another. I then realized, it was not my body talking to me but another mind. I stopped trying to move and took in everything around me.

The lines of beings in my field of view had not only stopped their work but had broken apart. Some stood in place wobbling back and forth; others moved cautiously across the ground. Those around me, watched curiously. Curiosity sprang up in me also as an invading force, like the first time I ever experienced the emotion. I had the sensation of wonder, questioning and need. My mind opened like a flood gate as my memories and knowledge were being accessed.

As the being accessed my thoughts, I tried to get a glimpse of his. I became overwhelmed in some single emotion. From this point, I am lost for a description and have been for nearly fifteen years. The emotion was so alien it awakened me back in my own world. I lay on my bed, unable to move. The alien’s access of my mind had been broken, but the emotion filled every part of my body and mind. My body was physically paralyzed, trying to comprehend what I was feeling. I can go through every human emotion I’ve had and tell you none of them were it. It wasn’t pain; it wasn’t sadness, happiness, fear, on and on and on…

In the minutes that passed, I could reach up and turn on my lamp. The emotion began to subside, but I did my best to hold on to it. I needed to keep it in me as long as possible. I had to understand but my human mind did not have the ability, and it slipped away.

Post script;

In the fifteen years I have had to think upon these creatures and the emotion I experienced, I may have an idea, “Swarm Intelligence”. To understand where I am going with this, I am copying and pasting the following from, wikipedia.org. This explains SI, better than I could.

“SI systems consist typically of a population of simple agents or boids interacting locally with one another and with their environment. The inspiration often comes from nature, especially biological systems. The agents follow very simple rules, and although there is no centralized control structure dictating how individual agents should behave, local, and to a certain degree random, interactions between such agents lead to the emergence of “intelligent” global behavior, unknown to the individual agents. Natural examples of SI include ant colonies, bird flocking, animal herding, bacterial growth, and fish schooling. The definition of swarm intelligence is still not quite clear. In principle, it should be a multi-agent system that has self-organized behavior that shows some intelligent behavior.”

This is my opinion on the alien emotion I felt. Perhaps “Swarm intelligence,” is not just a term or an action, just maybe it is an emotion. Examples; most of our emotions lead to actions. When humans feel love, we pursuit what we are in love with. Feeling fear, we flee, happiness leads to laughter and anger of course leads to many other actions.

My guess is, insects have limited emotions, the SI being the most complex. Should one individual of a hive or colony come across something that breaks its routine, this emotion not only sets things into action but is signaled to the entire colony or hive.

Once I had entered and locked minds with the single pancake being, individualism was established in it, for the first time. Since it was already linked to the others through the SI emotion, they all got a taste of individualism.

When I had reached out to its mind, the only thing there was the single emotion. An emotion humans can not comprehend and whether it came from a pancake person or an earthly insect, it is still alien to humans.

Splinter

This is a short one and nowhere near as interesting as most I publish. For the past few weeks work has been from sun up to sun down and 7 days a week.

Friday, February 17, 2012; (Unconscious dreaming)
I was operating a crawler crane out in an empty lot. The lot was surrounded by buildings and my guess is I was helping to erect a new building on the spot of one recently demolished. While operating the
crane, I cut my index finger. How, I do not recall, but the cut was on the tip and in the shape of an “X”.

I ran another finger across it and found a tiny sliver of metal in the middle, but when I looked at the
finger I could not see anything in the cut. I had a magnifying glass next to me and looked through it at the cut where I could barely make out the tip of a tiny metal splinter. I had no way to get it out and
each time I flexed my finger, pain shot through my hand.

Unable to deal with the pain any longer, I went to a first aid center. I told the nurse who was helping me that it could not be seen without a magnifying glass. She took the finger in her hands and squeezed the tip, causing the tiny metal splinter to pop out. The nurse got up without a word and left. Looking down on the white counter top, I could just make out the tiniest sliver of metal lying there. I was thinking the nurse had gone to get some bandages so I waited until I awoke.

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