November 21 - Dreams, and Dinner

8:03 p.m.

I have a confession to make. I'm halfway through "The Eternal Va1idity of the S0ul" by Jane R0berts (channeling the entity called Seth, this is from back in the 70s), and I love it. I'm willing to buy everything in it. Yet I'm reluctant to talk about it in casual company lest people think I'm a little wacked. I'm a closet believer, an eager recruit, open to everything, yet I don't want to have to explain myself to anyone who thinks this kind of thing is weird. I wonder if there are still study groups that talk about these books. I want to read her other ones now.

I went on YouTube and found old, low-quality videos of her channeling in a class. It's quite amazing to watch. She doesn't seem at all the type. She's this smallish woman with teeth pointing in various directions and a thin little voice and a quick, high laugh, sitting in a chair, and then suddenly there's this completely different "person" talking through her. If you go to YouTube and search for her name, you'll get "The Seth Video" in three parts. If you're curious, take a look.

The book goes into such fascinating subjects as the true nature of "reality" vs. the one we perceive, parallel probable universes, the story behind the Christ story, what religions do, past civilizations, the power and effect of thoughts. All the stuff I love.

After reading a bunch of it I took a nap this afternoon and asked for a dream I could remember, asked for some information about myself. I hadn't had a memorable lucid dream in weeks. This is what I dreamt:

Loft in NY -- lying napping or watching tv with the owner, a guy, whom I didn't know. We were relaxed and cozy. He was about to start making out with me and I told him, rather unkindly, that I wanted nothing to do with it. I got up, was walking around the loft -- it was huge, bathroom the size of a workshop -- I had to pee but there were people in there. I asked the guy if there ever wasn't anyone in there, because I had to use it. He said I just had to tell them to leave and they would, but I had to be proactive about it. I was too shy.

Walking around some more, I encountered a dark haired young woman who also lived there, and I asked her if this had been Gwylym's loft. Now Gwylym was a guy who had a loft in Soho when I lived in NYC in the mid 80s, and he was subletting it to a couple of jugglers from whom I ended up taking a class. I then dated one of them for a year or two. I have not thought of Gwyl in many years, so why he came up in this dream is a mystery! But, no, she said it wasn't Gwyl's loft, it belonged to Tony K. Now Tony is a singer songwriter whom I don't know, but he's an acquaintance of my bandmate Carol. I also haven't thought about Tony in years. I realized the guy I had been reclining with, spooning, was Tony.

Then I found myself in a big open room with mirrors on the walls, like a dance studio. So I started tap dancing. Simple at first, but very clean and precise. Then it got more complicated and I was leaping, twirling in the air, figuring it out as I went. I noticed in the mirror then that I was naked. I almost had this lithe, athletic dancer's body, like I knew in real life I was older but I'd be able to fool the others in the dream that I had a perfect body. When I was done, Tony came back up to me insisting that I'd turned him on and he wanted to fuck me. I started to let him kiss me -- I thought, oh, that's who he is, maybe he's all right since I almost know him by association anyway -- but his tongue in my mouth was so gross -- he smoked, I realized, I'd smelled it in the dance room at first -- that I pushed him away. I ran for it then, and got outside through some small opening, knowing that once I got into the clear I could transport myself out of there. It was a struggle climbing and then crawling up a muddy hill through trees to the clearing that I could JUST SEE over the next rise. Every time I'd get there, there would be another little rise, and it was so hard to lift my legs and take steps. This kept happening and I couldn't go fast enough. I cried out, "Help!! Mr. Durbin, help!!" Then I stood at the top, in a clearing where the ground was soft and really torn up, like bulldozed or something. I was surprised that something had happened to it. I balanced myself as well as I could without falling into a ditch. I'd gotten away. I folded my arms like in I Dream of Jeannie and blinked, knowing I'd immediately wake up safe in my bed. And I did.

I can't even begin to interpret this yet.

I just looked up Tony and he doesn't look anything like the guy in my dream. I feel some relief about that.

However, I did find a Mr. Durbin and it's not pretty. Who knew this guy had super hero rescue powers? Or maybe it's this one, a chap from Aberystwyth, Wales. I always loved that town name. And my ancestors were Welsh.

I guess I'll see if those links work. They're pretty long. Meanwhile, leftover cornish game hens and squash and an artichoke made a fantastic dinner tonight. I am so lucky. *burp*