Too Good to Wait for the Book & More

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  I reached over to scribble this dream down, but my dream notebook wasn’t there, so I jotted it down in the back of Catherine Cookson’s The Mallen Lot. It was just too much to miss. It began in college, I was dressed to the nines and wore snakeskin shoes. I had a couple of buddies, and one of them had an eight millimeter film in a canister steeped in acid, that is, LSD. We gathered in a dark little hovel to watch, but something went wrong, and up on the screen it looked like a yellow layer cake with jelly filling and chocolate icing, running and dripping. Meanwhile a small crowd had gathered round to watch. I didn’t know any of them. A couple of the boys were cute and smiling. There was another dark haired one who was on me like Frankie for breakfast. My friends weren’t wild about the newcomers, I could tell. There was a sandy haired girl with a ponytail wearing a navy blue sweatshirt amongst them who obviously liked one of the cute boys and got all shitty with me. I took her outside and straightened her out. By that I mean that she no longer considered me a rival and carried on. Then, two twin dolls, big, maybe four foot tall, made out of tin and painted with chippy acrylics, came at me, dancing down the hall. They had pink faces, blonde curls, and matching blue lace trimmed pants suits. Somehow I avoided them, and my brother joined the crew with his guitar. Supposedly he was to sing a funny new song about Satan. We must’ve been packed into a small dark room backstage. As my friends were still working on the film the dark haired stranger with the big eyebrows was rolling a joint when he bit me and blamed it on my snakeskin shoes. Another I had to set straight, although, this one, I really didn’t like. He was very typical and creepy. I left the room, and there was a dark old ticket stand with a tattooed hand coming from the window, not unlike Thing, motioning for me to come hither. When I did, another white boy with a crew cut jumped out, grabbed me, and pinned me to the floor with a gun to my head. He then tried to hold me down, like I thought I was such a badass, thought I was smart. Then he pulled a pair of brown womens' panties embroidered with colorful tulip buds out from somewhere as if they were mine. I was momentarily in shock, but then, even as I lay there on the floor with the gun to my head, I announced to the gathering crowd that they were Mummy’s underpants. This put him off. Good, I continued. Told him to kill me, then, I wasn’t afraid of him, old lady underpants stealer, and got up. 

  Then, I dreamed that I was shopping online for Dame Darcy dolls. I had made a little pink flute and noticed that she was selling the same kind, cheap.

I'm considering publishing my first dream book in other formats. Here's the paperback: Dana's Dreams

  

 Free Gaia TV this week. Frankie and I watched Chariots of the Gods from 1970, obviously inspiration for Ancient Aliens and Robert Sephr. We liked it. We're on the fourth lecture of Mystery Teachings now. It's really trippy and deep. Think that had lots to do with the dream. Frankie is just a hucklebuck, so he slept through the lessons. 

Origins of Sacred Holidays and Their Occult Meaning - ROBERT SEPEHR

Finishing off The Great Courses

 I did quite a good job with the free week of The Great Courses last week. After, flipping-out over the CONVIDIAN commie rubbish of the second course of The Black Death, where I watched all but two lessons before giving up expecting to learn anything, I loved The Celtic World and How to Publish Your Book. Finished both of those, then went on to watch all of 1066 about The Norman Conquest. Like The Celtic World that was also Jennifer Paxton and very informative. I've had a few teachers of her cailbre but not many. I still had a few hours to spare last night so, like The Paleolithic and Indus Valley, I caught a few lessons from different courses that seemed interesting: The Secret Societies, The Ancient Mystery Cults and Aleister Crowley, and Mythologies: Celtic. The Secret Societies covered Robert Sepehr's 1666 about The New World Order baby eating commies. I didn't know Crowley was a spy. I've never been a fan. He also discussed Madame Blavatsky, only not in a very good light. He made her out to be a commie, too. These lessons were alright. The Celtic Mythology lesson was okay, but I didn't really learn anything. I suppose there just aren't a lot of records since The Druids memorized everything. Suppose I've got to tap into my secret subconscious if I want to discover anything new about the ancient Celts. 

Dreams 4/12

Dreamt of Robert Sepehr, again, this time we were in college, living in the same dormitory, Robert lived downstairs from me. Instead of studying Anthropology Robert was in med school. We ended up hanging out by accident. I had to use the bathroom, and we couldn't find one. Finally I spotted a sort of Port-O-Potty, but once in there a young Goldie Hahn in a yellow bikini popped-up, out of the depths, and bit me. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Robert wanted to go out again, the next day, and we were leaving for the beach. I was wearing my blue mermaid lagoon swimsuit with matching shorts with a straw hat and white high heeled sandals.