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Author Topic: Immolation. Protection money.  (Read 4230 times)

Omega

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Immolation. Protection money.
« on: December 27, 2015, 10:41:05 AM »
Hi Tony, after a period of intense dreaming my dreams seemed to drop off for a while. Here is a new one id love your insight on whenever you can.  Hope you are having a lovely holiday

Backdrop In general I'm a bit lost in this dream, not sure where I'm staying, my phone battery running out, asked to cover a waitressing shift when I haven't done that type of work in ten years and really don't want to, but feel I'm being guilted into it for other people's convenience.

I'm driving quite a good car through country lanes. I pass a caravan, a young girl comes out, about 10-12 years old she covers herself in petrol stamps her foot to create friction to light it, it hasn't lit yet when then a woman comes out, the mother perhaps, the girl throws petrol on the mother & throws something at her, a piece of wood and she goes up in flames her body disappears, the clothes remain, seeing this, the girl dives into a sort of pool of water she's stsnding in and under a guitar case and saves herself. (Actually a thought just came to me of the Wizard of Oz where the wicked witch melts, but her clothes remain behind).

Sitting at a bar, a bit lost, my phone has died I don't know where I will sleep this night if I can't get in contact with anyone, jazz music, a man comes in, he knows my name flirty invasive style over familiar stands too close, then he's kissing a woman right beside me.

Then I'm talking to my father, he' tells me he's paid this man money. I can't believe it, it scares me. He admits the police can't protect us, so he has to pay the money, protection money. I feel really lost and fearful, this man seems very arrogant and nasty, and I doubt the protection money will do anything other than assure him of the power he has over us.
« Last Edit: December 27, 2015, 12:44:17 PM by Omega »

Tony Crisp

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Re: Immolation. Protection money.
« Reply #1 on: December 28, 2015, 09:58:05 AM »
Omega – You were cruising along feeling okay, but memory of something in your past that needs understanding came along.

The young girl and the scene she acted out is probably a scene from your life – not so much your outer life but certainly your inner life. You felt as if your life wasn’t worth living – I am guessing from your dream – that instead of your emotions burning you up, you managed to come through to a new realisation by direct it to your mother – and so got rid of her. Maybe I am projecting a little over this because I found my mother was so difficult to deal with inwardly that I got rid of her. See http://dreamhawk.com/inner-life/inner-world/#MakesInner

If I am right your dream spells out how you managed it. You dived into the inner world – the pool of water you were standing in – and realised that music – the guitar case – is a path you could take in life – but you haven’t opened it up!

The last scene is one you may be trapped in at the moment – the feeling that life/people have an under side. People who apparently have power over you – but you are living out these feelings in your inner life – a place where magical changes can happen. But in this inner world of dreams it is you who are capable of having the power over the threatening man/the world.

The first time I came across this power was in 1969 when I dreamt - On going indoors the man, now as a police inspector, led me down to the basement, and pointing to the corner of the room (that I had used as a darkroom) asked me how, “That got there?” 
 
I forget what it was, but felt unjustly accused. The inspector got two toughs to hold me and was going to drill my teeth out with a hand drill, and beat me. I was terrified and fought back, kicking one in the testicles. But could not break away. 
 
Then I feigned madness and regression to childhood to avoid further torture. Seeing this, one of them lead me away to a house in Crackerlands to kill me. I set upon him and knocked him out, took his gun, thought of killing him, but did not. 
 
Being free, I wondered what to do. Where to get away, go back with the gun, or what? Suddenly I thought I had better go back and hand myself over again. In a flash, as soon as this was decided, I saw through the whole set-up. The thugs felt that they were part of a huge crime organisation, worldwide in scope. Like the war underground resistance, no section that knew other than their leader. But in fact their leader had no higher authority than himself. So I went back, gave them the gun. They rushed me but I made no effort to struggle. This shock them far more deeply than any attempt to escape. I then explained that I was no longer afraid, because I saw how petty and futile they were. This broke their power and the dream finished. 

When you realise that you can fight back, or see the influence they had from another viewpoint then you come out of their power over you. If you imagine going up to the dream guy who was threatening and look him straight in the eye and tell him what a useless dick he is - and ask him for the money your father paid him or else. After all, you are only facing your own feelings. See http://dreamhawk.com/dream-encyclopedia/dream-yoga/

Tony

Omega

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Re: Immolation. Protection money.
« Reply #2 on: December 28, 2015, 12:12:24 PM »
Thanks so much Tony, I've been reading the linked articles. I'm not sure I saw where you 'got-rid' of your mother if you could describe that for me, maybe my brain is not so clear today but I couldn't quite get it from the text. I definitely need to get rid of mine in my inner world, I regularly felt as if my life was not worth living as a child.

These are some thoughts I have after reading the links - as I try help myself grasp what this idea of creating my world means to me and my life experience. (Apologies if it's a little long).

In my childhood - I believed my family and I believed who they told me I was, I accepted my orders. I experienced abuse and I could only understand the world - from my experience of the world - 'this is how it is, this is who I am and what I deserve'. Conflicting with this was an inner sense that I was good and beautiful because I could feel that in my child's heart and felt that the world was wrong - but I was simply no match to the forces against me.

Since then I've been replaying these original patterns of abuse - while trying to gain control of that by being positive and being stoic - neither of which helped in any way, only perhaps to keep me alive til I found something that did work. The patterns lay underneath unresolved and again and again the dangerous characters and events would jump out like wolves and grab me. 

So now in my dreams and in my meditation - I'm doing all I can to 'feel' these emotions, make them conscious, give them the sober acnowledgment that a child's pain and despair deserve. (I have been having lots of dreams that are of childhood sexual abuse). I feel this process is slowly slowly creating change - it's acknowledging the truth of my experience that has always been denied and invalidated despite my efforts.

But it feels slow and I wish I could have more consciousness as the me in my dreams, I'm never aware of choosing a response - though at least my responses do seem to be getting a little bit stronger and more empowered. How do I get this message through to my dream self that she needs to fight more? Is it a matter of willing it? I do do carry the dream forward - but I feel I'm on the mental plane with this and struggle to feel it. Is it a matter of 'calling' for it as you mention in the dream yoga article?

The one thing I feel is helping is that I am diligently trying to treat myself very gently and with kindness every day - as I've come to the awareness of how violently I have been treated and subsequently treated myself.

However it's very important for me to remember my patterns are still active in my daily world, despite all my work and healing, I still attract dangerous situations and characters, that focus on me and pass other people by.

So the key is 'coming out of their power over me' and that's a deep pattern not a 'thought', if anything I've always denied my pain and vulnerability, in fact I often wouldn't even feel fear when I actually should - it's something that manifests as people who do not have my best interests at heart or even have intent to harm.

It is fear at a certain level, but based on many many experiences of powerlessness, but most fundamentally on my life experience as a child and how I was treated when I could not protect myself - where my powerlessness was not a 'perception' - I was in fact completely at the mercy of my care-givers. Is this what some people would call a soul contract?

So with self-transcendence I meet my fears, trauma, death.. and try and take them into myself and though the larger more powerful aspect of my being. There will be no one to run from and no one to manipulate or take from me. Those energies just won't function like that anymore. So is it a question of just removing the dirt to reveal the light beneath? Hence my question on another thread 'how can I have more joyful dreams'..

Then I'll be free to fulfill my potential in this world and shine my light and love.

Well just wondering what you think of all that - if it holds true for the most part?

Thanks Tony.
« Last Edit: December 29, 2015, 09:25:28 AM by Omega »

Tony Crisp

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Re: Immolation. Protection money.
« Reply #3 on: December 30, 2015, 11:55:31 AM »
Omega – Thank you so much for keeping on asking and communicating. It is in this way we may make progress.

My mother –  So imagine a wild cow whose calf doesn’t show much signs of life. It is imperative if the calf is to survive that it get on its feet quickly, that it moves around and looks lively. So when I try to understand the things my mother did, it makes sense that she saw me like this and gave me a good kick now and again to get me on my feet and looking lively. She had no subtlety remember, and didn’t think about things. She simply responded. If I didn’t stand up then I would die, so a good kick might stimulate me into being a bit more alive. I think this was heightened with my mother because she had several heftily built sisters who produced babies weighing in at the magnitude of 9 pounds. My tiny frame of 4 pounds appeared tragically fragile beside them.
The kicks my mother gave me all related to threats of leaving me or giving me away. These would perhaps have been felt as mild parental emotional beatings except that my mother didn’t connect with me easily at birth because of my fragility. In fact, my grandmother took over my rearing until she died when I was eighteen months old. This meant that I had not connected fully with my mother or she with me. My grandmother had been my mother. When she died I lost the one who had mothered me, and I felt abandoned, as I had felt at birth.
So at three when I was taken away to a convalescent home because of my sickly constitution, my world fell to pieces. The wound of abandonment cut into me at birth, then at the loss of my grandmother, was ripped open again, and it took over fifty years to put some of the pieces back together again. I wasn’t long in the home, but that I was there at all stabbed a blade of pain and fear into me that left a wound that didn’t heal. The convalescent home shattered whatever frail sense of being wanted I had been able to build in the intervening years. Going into hospital again at six to have my tonsils removed, opened the injury again and deepened it.
My mother’s anxiety lasted throughout my youth and expressed in ways that left psychological scars that deeply changed the directions I took in life. As an example, one Spring when I was about six, I had walked home from school for lunch. I hated school meals and so walked back to our next-door neighbour’s, Mrs Spilstead, who fed me while my mother was at work. There was only one other boy who also walked home at lunchtime. I remember his name was Brian Spencer. On that day we met up on the way back to school while walking along Whielden Street where we both lived. There was no problem in crossing Amersham High Street in those days, as there were so few cars about.
At the beginning of School Lane there used to be a wonderful open meadow rising up a steep hill to The Rectory. Now it has buildings at its foot, but then there were only giant horse chestnut trees and a huge expanse of grass. As we were passing, the thousands of Michaelmas daisies in the meadow were too much, too many, too glorious to ignore. We climbed up the bank and into the waist high grass to pick the daisies. It was our plan to give them to our teacher. On arriving at school however, we must have lingered too long in Rectory Meadow, as all the children were in class. The massive oak door of our class, facing directly on to the playground, was closed and formidable with its large iron studs pointing out to us. We stood looking at it for a while, daisies drooping in our hands. It seemed to me too difficult to open that massive door and face all those enquiring eyes. So I thought the best plan was to play in the Recreation Ground across the road from the school until playtime. Then we could mingle with the children and enter class without crisis.
I don’t know what happened to the daisies. I do clearly remember that we got deeply involved in catching sticklebacks in the small river – the Misbourne – at the end of the Rec as we called it. When playtime came our classmates flowed over the Rec and watched us for a while with our arms deep in the scented Misbourne. I don’t know why, but no thought of school ever came into my mind. Somehow the river, the fish, erased all concepts of school and of time. I have no recollection of purposely setting myself against going back to school. It simply never occurred to me that I needed to. The river and the willows along its bank were all. Even when the children reappeared again the spell wasn’t broken. The information never even got anywhere near to telling me that time had passed and I would be expected to return home. For those hours I had returned to a younger age where there were no goals, no appointments, no expectations, only the moment.
There are several indelible images of what then happened. One of them is of myself, still with arms into the river, bent and intent, suddenly aware that a shadow had fallen over me. It was my mother. I was so pleased to see her. I tried to share the wonderful river, but I was pulled away.
I can remember the exact place where the next image was engraved into me. My hand was being held firmly by my mother as we walked along Church Street, on the left hand side before getting to what used to be Goya’s scent factory. There is a blank as to what had been said before that. I know I had been questioned as to why I hadn’t returned home on time, and why I had missed school. I had explained as well as a six-year-old child can. Suddenly my mother said, “You hurt me. Now I am going to hurt you.”
She never explained how I had hurt her, but I suppose she meant she had been worried sick when I didn’t return home at the usual time. Then followed the third ingrained image. My mother took me home, undressed me, bathed me – we had a large zinc bath then which had to be filled from saucepans and placed in the middle of the kitchen floor. She then dressed me in my Sunday best clothes and told me I was going to be put in a children’s home.
I had not known my mother to make threats she didn’t carry out. So I took this as a statement of her plans. Remember that I already knew the pain of the convalescent home, and behind that the sense of being motherless at the death of my grandmother. There was already a pit of terror in me called ‘Abandonment’. The threat of being thrown to that monster again tore me open. I clung to my mother begging her to keep me, and the scene fades in my memory as I cling to her begging and sobbing.
The result was that from then onwards I cut my mother out of my heart and cast her aside. I would no longer sit next to her or treat her with respect. I would no longer trust a woman with my love. I started calling her ‘an old cow’ – another way of helping myself kill out my feelings for her and my emotional dependence on her. Being that independent turned into a wonderful strength, but a terrible weakness. I was much more individual than most boys. As a young man called into the armed force for national service, I was far less prone to homesickness than most, and not given to depending on a girl friend to help me feel wanted. Even at forty, I had been married for years without ever knowing what it was to have an emotional bond with my wife. It took my second marriage to show me the pleasure, and reintroduce me to the pain, of actually learning to love someone again. Quoted from Autobiography of a Premature Child.
Omega, I feel there is something perhaps I have left out emphasising – it is that we can so some of the work but Life in us has to take it up to complete it. I know this sounds ridiculous to our rational mind, because to that point of view we are the one who has to get up and get on with life – as if we created ourselves. But the processes of life created you, not your mother – your mother was a host to the miraculous egg. Of course the life with your parents created another aspect of you and was a part of your present personality. See http://dreamhawk.com/interesting-people/animal-children/#Program and http://dreamhawk.com/dream-encyclopedia/the-conjuring-trick/
I had tried everything I could to ‘deal with myself’ – yoga – years of meditation – positive thinking – dieting – fasting and sulking because nothing did what I felt sure could be found. So one day I decided that all my huge efforts were not working, so I decided there must be a hidden factor which I would wait for. And because I recognized that I had no clue what it was and couldn’t find it in the huge library of books I had read or in the things I had almost frantically used I must wait without any aims or thoughts - T. S. Eliot gave us these lines:
I said to my soul, be still and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing;
there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

So I set aside half an hour each day and simply sat – not even trying to still my mind, because that was self-acting again. I can’t remember how long that went on, but an event took place that was an answer to my waiting. One night I got out of bed to go to the toilet and as I was getting back into bed I heard a voice clearly say to me, “You have asked how God touches the human soul – now watch closely.”

A few days later the events described in http://dreamhawk.com/approaches-to-being/lifes-little-secrets/ erupted into my life.

To me that is the best advice I can give – trust Life/God to do the healing. Well we have to work hard but the real part is taken over when we learn to trust the force that constantly takes care of us.

Tony
« Last Edit: December 30, 2015, 01:05:48 PM by Tony Crisp »

Omega

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Re: Immolation. Protection money.
« Reply #4 on: December 30, 2015, 01:09:37 PM »
Thank you Tony.  :)

I have been exasperated by this advice in the past, it's very scary to be told to stop and wait, especially when you are in great pain and you need to make choices and earn your living ..but that's exactly where my life has brought me.. but it has meant taking total time out.

 Looking back I would say all the effort I put in to 'solving' myself was in equal and opposite proportion to finding insight.  Yoga definitely helped me get through very difficult emotional times, but it also functioned as yet another form of busyness, in my case, it was a block to real silence and self nurturance, more 'pushing' myself.

Yes your words remind me of the true the violence of the child's world which is so often ignored, I guess the violence of the world the adults live in, just pours in without the right protectors.

So while I wouldn't have grasped this before, I do understand what you are telling me & so I must continue to cultivate my weakest trait - patience. Patience with faith.
« Last Edit: December 31, 2015, 09:45:54 AM by Omega »

Tony Crisp

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Re: Immolation. Protection money.
« Reply #5 on: January 03, 2016, 12:01:45 PM »
Around me it spoke
And sang its hymn –
I am the Everlasting Everything,
The All Inclusive,
The Dark and Light,
War and Peace,
Birth and Death.

Yes — I am that Beauty!

I stand with you in the waiting.

Tony

Omega

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Re: Immolation. Protection money.
« Reply #6 on: January 05, 2016, 10:18:41 AM »
Thank you Tony