Here Begins my entry for Wednesday, the 6th Day of May, 1987 in the Magical Record of LA-B

Here Begins my entry for Wednesday, the 6th Day of May, 1987 in the Magical Record of LA-BAJ-AL, Mage-&-Watcher Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Interesting dreams last night. I seem to be alternating periods of low- sleep/high-productivity with periods of high-sleep/low-productivity. Act- ually, productivity is a poor choice of words. My long sleep times are highly productive, but not in a physical plane tangible sort of way. My dreams were very intense, yet I was not really awake. I was cer- tainly given sufficient clues within my dream, but somehow I didn't catch on. Somehow I feel as though the dreams were being experienced by a younger part of me (when I was less awake in general) or that I was somehow re-experiencing my insecurities within a context of me as a teen- ager. The dream began with me looking thru a bunch of technical brochures on `science' (which covers a whole lot of territory, especially for a teen- ager). There was also a copy of National Geographic with photos of gorges which had been badly scorched by raging forest fires. A friend came over & asked me if that was where I had spend my summer vacation. I looked at the pictures & was repulsed by them. In a dim sort of way, I had memories of the last SPiRaL gathering & my discomfiture with Oz, especially related to her P‚l‚ rites which were held in scorched-out erosion ditch area very reminiscent of the photos in the magazine. The photos also brought up my repulsion for smokers. Oz is a very heavy smoker. Also, my blankets had been with me to Buffalo last weekend & had received a heavy dose of smoke from all the smokers there. So I was sleeping with my nose in smoke all night -- which may have something to do with the slightly uneasy & repulsive nature of my dreams. So, I answered my friend by leafing thru all the scientific brochures & the magazine to find photos of where I had spent my summer vacation. I came across some very interesting molecular models which seemed to take on the form of an elephant. The man who wrote the article had an Indian name. I remarked that resurgent archtypes seem to color our present ex- plorations. My friend seemed to know a joke he was not sharing. My wake- ful self realizes that the elephant molecule is topologically identical to a complex orgy scene I used in our Great Rite invitation. At this point I should have (based on my usual pattern) realized I was dreaming & woken-up within the dream. But I did not. So I continued looking thru the magazines for a photo of where I had spent my summer vacation. I found a picture of some sort of archeological dig along the Niagara river. I realized that I had spent a part of the summer in these old cave dwellings. I also made intuitive connections with Howe Caverns. Both Niagara Falls & Howe Caverns are childhood sacred shrines of mine. As I looked at the photos I fell into the reality of that past experience. I always find dreams within dreams to be exciting, even when I do not realize that I am dreaming. I was with my friend from the previous dream segment. We were at the archeological dig. I was wondering why the archeologists were allowing us to camp in these caves. My experience of adults is that they do not trust children & do not want them underfoot -- unless they happen to know (& be related to) the particular child in question. So I was looking around for a relative amongst the `scientists' running the dig. I could not find any. But then I located a furry old professor type (who reminds me of me at the present time). [In the dream, I am about 13 or 14 years old.] I ask him why we are being allowed to camp here. Isn't he afraid we will break or move or steal something? Or simply obscure some evi- dence merely by our presence? He chuckles at me & tussles my hair. He says not to worry about being blamed by grumpy adults for their own inadequacies. He says that the kids have been invited for a campout so that we can have fun. He also enjoys listening to dreams which sleeping in the caves tend to inspire & that kids are more prone to be honest in retelling their dreams than adults. I tell him that I am glad to be here, for the Indians who used to live here became extinct on their own, long before white folks arrived on these shores, so there was no guilt attached to this site. [My waking self is suprized to realize that I still carry some residual guilt over colonial expansion into the Americas, but no guilt over more blatant, yet farther removed (chronologically speaking), subjugations & exploitations such as Atlantis. Perhaps guilt is more tied to genetic & somatic memory than to past life memories. Or perhaps, I know that I per- sonally am guilty of nothing but I still feel some residual guilt thru my somatic memory of my body's ancestors.] So I go to a dream within a dream within a dream. I go to sleep in the cave & I awaken several thousand years previous. Most of the archeolo- gists & anthropologists are there likewise. We are a whole troop of ghosts. The cave people (the local Indians) seem to take ghosts for granted. We are treated like guests, except that we are not offered any food. The medicine man knows English (or dream-talk as he calls it) & is willing to have me tag along with him. In his culture, at 14 I am an adult, not a child. He tells me that it is bad luck to offer food to a ghost. If the ghost accepts the food, but cannot eat it, then the ghost usually looks very suprized, then disappears . Or, he eats the food & then becomes trapped as a person within the culture. Now most ghosts seem to be very inept at caring for themselves & do not know the first thing about social custom/taboo, so they are a real hinderence to the tribe. So it is best not to offer food to a ghost. I look thoughtfully at some venison jerky he is chewing & ask him if it is ok for a ghost to ask him for food. He laughs & laughs & tells me that when a shaman dreams, he can do whatever he damn well pleases! So I ask for some jerky. He gives it to me & I savor it. I now know that I am dreaming. But I still think I am a kid on his summer vacation sleeping at an archeological dig. I ask him why he thinks I am a shaman. He tells me that only a shaman would know a shaman. He asks me if I had any trouble spotting him as a shaman, even though I had never been to any place like this before. I told him that he was obviously the shaman, but surely anyone could see that. He laughed again & told me that the head of the expedition had been ghosting here every night for several months & had still not located the shaman (whom he was desperately seeking), even though he had been given lots of hints by every member of the tribe. The shaman asked me to speak to the expedition head personally. Perhaps he would recognize the mes- sage if delivered by his younger self. At this point I awoke within the dream. The old archeologist & I fused into one. We were sitting in a shallow cave & the old Indian shaman was sitting opposite us. He said in a very formal voice (in a language I could easily understand, but which I do not remember ever hearing before) "Greetings to the heir of Atlantis". I smiled & said in English an heir, perhaps, but certainly not the heir." He smiled & told me that small gestures of humility suited me. I then went on in the shaman's tongue: "Greetings to Thee, O Dream Ward, heir to the Mysteries of Lemur- ia." We both stood & hugged one-another. He became much younger & turn- ed into a woman. I became older till I was my current biological age. She was lean strong & somewhat ascetic, yet very open to those who were not on her Path. The cave became soft & warm, like snuggling up in the belly button of the world. It was filled with cushions & hanging tapestries with holographic scenes which rippled thru time-&-space as I shifted my gaze. We sat down & compared notes on how our cultures were doing in the re- integration of Atlantean and Lemurian ideas into the local reality frame- work. She told me that her culture was dieing because it had no interest in technology. Dreams & visions are wonderful, but without the easy life engendered by technology, there simply wasn't time or energy to do any- thing practical other than ease the suffering of those who were dieing centuries before their time. I replied that in my culture, there was much technological ease, but that many seemed not to know how to use free time Many seemed trapped on the adrenaline circuit, and wound-up killing them- selves centuries before their time thru their own negative phantasies, or by feeling victimized by the collective maya of other sleepers having nightmares. I asked what she knew of Aiwass, Lam, & Lazarus. She smiled & said that all she could know was what I felt about them. I sighed in mock ex- asperation as she continued by saying that all inspiration seemingly comes from elsewhere, while all true information comes to Atlanteans from within themselves or via personal exploration to seek it out. She smiled & said that although `science' seems to have earned itself a bad reputa- tion, now that it was vying for status as a world religion, its methods (if practiced pristinely) were still very useful, so long as the experi- mentor was aware that s/he was creating as well as exploring. It has been said that the only truly objective observers are the 3 monkeys who neither hear, see, nor speak. But their objectivity is only illusory for they interact with the rest of the Multiverse thru other more subtle & unconscious ways. As I came back to wakefulness within my body, I first fell back a- sleep. My older & younger selves separated & the separate layers of dream reality became an inter-twining network of dreams within dreams. The com- munion of Atlantis & Lemuria was forgotten until I began to unravel the strands of remembrance thru writing this dream down. Let me end this entry with a quote from Dune which was brought to my attention in a letter to Carey from Jeff: "How much is actual prediction of the waveform (as Maub Dib referred to his vision image) and how much is the prophet shaping the future to fit the pro- phesy? What of the harmonics inherent in the act of prophesy? Does the prophet see the future? Or does he see a line of weakness, a fault, a cleavage that he may shatter with words or decisions, as a diamond cutter shatters his gem with a blow of the knife?". Love is the law, love under will. Here ends my entry in the Magical Record of OTz PTN--690 and Frater PVN, Master of Re-Creative Alchemies for this 6th Day of May, 1987e.v. * * *