Dear Tony, I am frustrated with the ET mind, the one you write about in the article about aliens in dreams, the Life Will vs the Conscious Will. I hope I am using your terms properly so that we have an understanding across these waves. I will copy my dream here from my online journal, so you have an inkling what has prompted my frustration. I tried to follow your link to The Two Powers: Accept All that You Are, but it doesn't work. Maybe after reading the dream, you can send me to a source that offers advice for meeting with the aliens, meeting with the ET mind and coming to some kind of agreement or, at least, some arrangement in which my Conscious Will is not so affronted by what, extending the metaphor, functions as an abduction. Thank you for your time and any advice you may offer. ~Kecia
I dreamed again. I am sleeping in bed when I wake up startled next to my husband. I feel bad for waking him again, although the first time was in waking life not dream life, so the disturbance was moot. He doesn’t get up, but I do, and I notice something strange in our bedroom. The room is like a cave with three walls, the fourth side open to the outside. The floor is a hard, clay-like substance. One side of the room is a slope that runs from floor to ceiling. On this sloping wall is a small channel about six inches across running vertically. At the top is a hole from which I suppose water sometimes flows down the channel into a drain on the floor. What is strange is that water is flowing UPWARD from the hole in the floor, flowing up the channel and disappearing down into the hole at the top. I am amazed and have to wake my husband to show him. I recall that I exclaim over the fact of the upward movement of the water.
I assume it must be flooding from elsewhere, too much water in the ground so that the sump isn’t working. My mind is searching for a solution to the upward flow of the water, you see. Then the water from the floor drain exceeds the capacity of the little channel, at least I reason this is the cause, and water begins to flow across the hard floor, spreading in a dark patch. I look to the bed, worrying that it will be soaked. The bedspread that touches the floor at a corner is getting wet and acting like a wick. There’s an odd vision I have of a black leopard forming from the dark, spreading water, although I doubt myself now. Then a cat with two kittens is fighting with the leopard, which will easily kill the cat, but I didn’t see what happened.
I go in search of a view of the sky. The three-walled cave forms the end of a wash or gully, an arroyo with water and wind sculpted sandstones for walls. I don’t like my view blocked, and I feel like if I can see the sky again, I can find some answers to the upward flow of the water. I walk along the walls of this little canyon, searching for a way upward. I finally find a place easy enough to climb. Behind me, I know my husband doesn’t want me to go into danger, but I really need to see the sky. I climb out of the gully into desert country at the top of a high, sloping cliff of sandstone and chaparral. As my husband had predicted, I begin to slide out of control. I’m not afraid of falling; it’s the landing that worries me.
I fall very rapidly, sliding with my back to the slope, my eyes cast down toward my feet, studying what is coming up, judging whether a stone will hold my rushing weight or not. As obstacle after obstacle is loosened or passed by, I begin to worry about my speed and the inevitable fall at the end. Finally, though, I see a boulder that must surely hold me, and it does. I am stopped not far from the floor of a wide chaparral. Behind me and stretching to left and right is the ridge of boulders from whence I just fell.
My husband and a friend arrive. We must, for some reason, hike along the edge of this ridge, looking for a way back? In any case, I gather up my belongings that have scattered in the fall. I have my two, steel truck keys on a simple ring, and I have an iphone and some other things I don’t identify. I scoop them into a stretchy knit cap for carrying across the desert. I want to scoop that cap into another and then another. My husband is impatiently striding ahead with his friend. I am dawdling behind, juggling with my belongings.
Because I am behind, I see them first, the aliens. There is only one at first. He’s very tall, eight feet or more, wearing a mask like this one worn by Leia (At my original blog, there's a link to a picture). He’s wearing a bandoleer and carrying a long, rifle-like weapon, which he is pointing at me. I call ahead to the others, alerting them that a strange and dangerous person is here. I can’t remember the exact words, although it was a clear warning in the dream. My warning doesn’t help because more of the aliens are already upon us from the right where the ridge we have been following slopes downward becoming passable again. The first alien tells the later ones that he has detected wifi, which makes me realize they found us by tracking my phone carried in the knit caps.
With their weapons, the aliens indicate we should keep moving ahead of them toward a town. I keep expecting something terrible to happen, to be enslaved or dissected. Some of the townspeople wander out to greet and casually welcome us from the desert. The humans are not unusual, and the town seems to function like any human town. I only notice one, unusual individual, a person of unknown gender who wears a half-mask. S/he has a blunt, cigar-like device which s/he fits into her mouth to puff. Her/his jaw protrudes like a chimpanzee’s, and the visual disturbs me, but s/he is the only one so I disregard the oddity as the three of us enter the town to look around, presumably to live there.
We are no longer escorted by the aliens. In a subtle fashion, this role is taken over by various humans who introduce us around. We walk down a street past a building with a lighted, futuristic sign that reads USA:ISHIO or USA:ISHO, something like that. Here, we all presume to enter when a door is opened, rolling upward like a garage door. We step forward, but the door immediately rolls down, barring us from entering. On the other side of the door, we have a glimpse of a dignified man in a kimono.
Our party now consists of a leader-type, a man straight out of an action cartoon, the type that is the old veteran leading the newbs into battle. There is also an Asian woman who explains why the door was shut in our faces. She tells our leader he has to bow first if he wants to enter. Our leader does so, and the door opens, but only he can go in. The rest of us wait outside for him.
Lounging outside the door are three, brawny men, Scandinavian types. I ask how it happened to be that twelve men, all of the same physique and type, were imprisoned at the same time. In this way, I learn that there are more of these men and that, prior to coming to the village, they were in prison and escaped from there. They only shrug in response, yet I know that they are rebels against whatever is going on secretly in the village and that they would break free if they could. Their dissent worries me because it strengthens my suspicions that all is not as it seems.
My point of view changes, and I am watching what happens to the leader in a dark alley. Some men bring him face to face with another man with henchmen alongside him. The leader grows more and more wary as the gap between closes. Then the henchmen grab hold of our leader and begin to perform unspeakable manipulations to his face, stretching it, altering it, all in the most painful ways.
Another point of view change, and I am watching the party that was left behind. They are in a room when the leader is returned. His entire body is bloated beyond recognition with tissues stretched and contorted in hideous ways. He has a single eye the size of his head in roughly the place where his face once was. Limbs of dubious function jut in random and unexpected places. The enormous eye blinks. Without a moment of pause, everyone in the room scrambles away in panic from this grotesquerie. He is screaming, if it can be called that because there’s no mouth. He shouts for revenge against the ones who have done this to him.
At this point, the image is so awful that I feel like I’ve simply had enough of this ridiculousness, so I wake up. In my waking moments, I begin to realize the grotesquerie was cartoonish, and I really resent my dream mind for showing it to me!
