Trans-species communication – Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul.

Whilst the Moon transited Aquarius and my ninth house, it proved the most hysterically luciferous of dreams. I would on Monday, September 3, 1990 dream the most insightful of dreams which was the first dream that day.

__________________________

I encountered a gibbon, another animal of some sort and a weasel. Perhaps, if not a weasel, it was a beaver or a groundhog. A dark brown-coated animal it was.

They were furred animals that could manipulate with their front legs/hand-like paws – all three of these animals. It was an interesting animal. I think it may even have been an oversized raccoon. They were, at night time, on a walled ledge.

When looking at them, the gibbon was on the far right. This very antsy weasel, or whatever it was, was to the far left.

Across the road, from the animal contestants, was a White woman standing who was conducting a test. It was like a lottery that was being televised.

It was really a scam because they would ask questions of the animals. Needless to say, the poor creatures wouldn’t have a clue. They would just sit there very dumbfounded such that it was all a big joke.

The resultant prize, a rather sizeable jackpot, would go up higher. It was like a motivational thing – maybe one day when it went up so high then one of the animals would finally blurt out the answer.

The question was being posed to the respective furred contestants,

“What did all three species have in common?”

I knew that it had nothing to do with the fact that they each had tails or fur. Too, it was being asked of different people. Immediately, I knew the answer and got very excited.

I knew that the correct answer was that they were all carnivores. I even went and was trying to put in for the creatures. However, as a human it was unfair of me, I couldn’t intervene.

Alas, as soon as the question was asked down off the wall jumped the little weasel character. It did not even know the goddamn answer but went greedily running up and making faces.

It excitedly gesticulated and showed off that it had hands that were not unlike a human’s. The excitable creature began clapping to prove that he was very humanlike.

It was pathetic really. It was just a greedy, greedy little fucker.

At one point, I looked over my left shoulder back at the gibbon and it rolled its eyes as if to say,

’Really… such a greedy, little fucker. Why doesn’t he just come back and play dumb like everybody else?’

This was quite the shrewd insight, to have gained, of the animal kingdom’s take on us ofttimes absurdist, fur-depilated bipedal simians.

’Can’t he see how fucked up humans are? If we did not realise what a mess humans were we’d already be talking ourselves.’

This gibbon had such a regal face. Whilst it was deliberately being very telepathic, it knew that I was able to discern its thoughts.

That was why I had looked over my shoulder and back in its direction in the first place. It was so intelligent and so extremely funny.

I was telepathically communicating with these animals. Finally, I was able to psychically connect with this busy-bodied/mind creature. I told it that the answer was, in fact, carnivore.

As soon as it learnt this, the creature immediately began panting and gritting its teeth in a masticating manner. It just got so overly excited that it was really too funny.

It wanted to be the one to get it right but the poor creature just did not know how to verbally communicate it. I suggested to it that, perhaps, it could write the answer since it couldn’t speak.

So immediately the little pathetic fucker wanted me to teach it how to write… on the spot. It was so impatient that it began trying to bark – shout – carnivore which just sounded like it was miserably choking on a giant fur ball.

It was so pathetic. However, this merely proved more entertainment for the humans. More than that, what was really funny was seeing the way the gibbon was rolling its eyes and being very bored by it all.

The gibbon then telepathically imparted to me,

’I don’t know which is worse, these goddamn humans or this pathetic little creature.’

It was very funny. There was a great connectedness and dialogue between this gibbon and me.

_________________________

Photo: Aged Baboon.

______________________________________________________________________

I was walking north in Toronto, on a side street, just east of Logan Avenue. It was one of the streets that dead-ends, in this case, just before meeting Mortimer Avenue.

More appropriately, this was heading north along Chester Avenue, about where Playter Crescent would be if it actually crossed Jackman Avenue to continue eastward to Chestnut Avenue and beyond.

There were two gardeners, by a maroon-coloured van of theirs, working in the groovy sunny daylight.

I was feeling so good to be there and in their august company that I pushed off and began effortlessly flying. I passed these really lovely houses on the right side of the quiet side street.

One of the houses had a beautiful white Labrador dog that stood guard on the front lawn. The Labrador had white rings encircling the most intensely blue-irised eyes.

Smiling at me, it greeted me with a lovely affectionate bark. By jumping into the air, it was admirably trying to mimic my flight. It had kept on tilting its head from one side to the next.

You could just hear its doggone mind thinking that there was something mighty queer about what I was doing. You could just sense its awestruck mind thinking,

‘Hey, like wait a minute now. Bipeds don’t fly! What is this?’

What a riotous hoot! It was such a gloriously cute, little creature. Dear god I began laughing, while in flight which I can assure you is rather rare, for this was such a touching and beautiful sight.

It began running along the lawns and sidewalk while trying to keep up with me. Its little head was cocked on the side, ears pinned back, its little face thrilled as all hell to be party to this psychedelic trip.

Can you not imagine its canine buddies dismissing it, as weaving more tall tales, on relating this one? I was so riotously laughing that I became concerned that I would prematurely awaken.

This was so genuinely hysterical. Well, canine buddies be damned, it was so pleased for me. Bless its dear gentle-souled heart.

The handsome Labrador began a sweet clipped bark, cheering me on, protesting my cleverness while marvelling at just how I was able to pull it off. Who cares about contact with EHs – extra-humans – trans-species contact has existed for millennia here, with all manner of marvellous creatures, truth be told.

This moment, between the young Labrador and me, was truly rapturous. Well, I don’t know about pigs but this episode suggested that dogs have yet to learn to fly.

I have no idea what kind of dream my inspiring turn has led to for this adorable creature but the honour is all mine – serving as muse to this adorable blue-eyed dog.

Flying on up ahead, the road became exclusively lined with giant, old maple trees that were full of moss. I was flying westwards – along Browning Avenue – because all the giant old maples, on the left of the street, were covered with moss on the side that faced the street and was close to me. The sunlight was above and a bit behind me.

On approaching, in flight, one of the trees to the south – on the right side of the street – had the most incredible trunk-like branch. This road, incidentally, was a paved affair. This branch was so thick that it crossed the street going north-westerly. On the other side, it attached to a less colossal maple.

Over Time both branches had become grafted with the knob, where they had joined, proving a huge bulbous affair. As I flew under the branch, coming down a little to the street to accommodate the massive trunk, I looked up and back at its incredible beauty.

Surprised was I to see, way back behind me, my pointed feet. It was as if my astral body was 10-12 feet long when in flight.

My motion here definitely was that of flying as opposed to feeling as though one were swimming through the air. On such occasions, as the latter, it is then a laborious proposition and never a fun experience as now. Clearly, this was an experience of being astrally projected. I was rather impressed at how statuesque my astral body was.

A thoroughly soul-stirring adage this dream proved. Truly, this was a dance with one’s very soul. No greater intimacy could possibly be had.⁵

_________________________________________

Dreams, quite simply, are the poetry of the soul. The preceding idyllic turn was the fourth dream of the second or B sleep session, on Monday, May 23, 1994, while the Moon transited both Scorpio and my sixth house and I was then happily habituated in Vancouver’s West End.

______________________

Photo: White Labrador Retriever.

_____________________________________________________________________

Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul.

Tag: Trans-species communication

These Goddamn Humans.

Come On, Bipeds Don’t Fly!