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Emode tells me that:

i am 1 204 weeks old
my psyche is driven by imagination

*You have a deep desire to use ideas to change the world around you. This drive influences you far more than you may realize on a conscious level.

You love to brainstorm and imagine new possibilities. The world is a fuller, richer place because you can contribute new ideas to any experience. Your natural curiosity inspires those around you and encourages them to come up with ideas they wouldn't have discovered without your help.*

in a way that feels right. i dont think i am driven by reserve, or sexuality (the results of two friends). if anything i'd say i was driven by boredom but imagination is a much nicer word.

I think Nen and I are similar in those repsects, we are in our way both visionary. except her vision has more clarity and sharpness than mine, she operates by sight, clean sharp lines, clarity and logic and mine is the inner sight, the search for depth, texture, complexity and meaning.

most of the time i dont think of myself as predominantly visual. i am better at hearing and feeling. it is easier to close my eyes and listen, which is ironic i suppose considering how much difficulty i have hearing what is in reality.

i was watching the live psychic challenge yesterday and some of the sceptics made me irritated and some of them made me laugh outloud.

my favourite is the crux of skeptical reasoning which goes, I, the sceptic, have no psychic powers. and if i therefore demonstrate that i have psychic ability, that will prove that psychic's are fakes.

except, here is the catch. everyone IS psychic so all the scpetic is demonstrating is an ass-backward communion with his own true inner nature.

if i had a desire, or a call it is to awaken people to the magic within themselves and the world. i'd say everything is ridiculous and sublime at the same time, and you are a living, breathing miracle and to live a different life, look at the same world with different eyes.

i think in many things innocence can be regained, innocence in its aspects of openness, a willingness to experience and to believe. a willingness to be wrong in order to experience the magic of a vision, the heartmoving beauty of an idea in the NOW.

anyone can learn to see and hear energy. anyone can attune themselves to it. all it takes is a suitable teacher, and a willingness to try;

anyway, some of the psychics they had on there really were excellent, Keith someone or other, i will have to look him up.

and because it was late, and i was tired, i gave up on my original plan to watch *THe Man with the Golden Arm* in order to sleep. And the sleep was beautiful. I was so tired and sinking into dreams was as pleasant as letting go and being cradled and carried, sheltered. Sometimes, the good times, when i remember to- I can feel even the most ordinary things around me as deep, deep pleasure, a gentle tingling that goes through my entire being.

and the dreams i had were beautiful and scary by turns.

one was a dream of rats, and the other a dream of communicating with my father.

in the rat dream, there are rats all around, and some are climbing on me and i am screaming, because i am mentally thinking i should be scared rather than because i feel frightened.
i wonder if that means in part, that i am holding on to my phobia in my head because it has been there for such a long time.

in the second dream, there is a book, written in many different handwritings for the dead. and i am going around, delievering its messages to my friends. i think there is a person who gives me the book in the first place and i know it is very important to the living, it has guidance and instructions.

and then i realise that several parts of the book are for me. I am flipping through it, i remember seeing a section on the tarot, and across one page, words my father's words, so clear in the dream. it is a message i understand completely then, and only partially now, because in the moment of my comprehension i am pulled away from the dream, and i cannot reclaim it.

i know my father is around me always, not just in a book in a dream, but at the same time i experience the disspearance of its, and his clarity as a profound loss.

but still it was a good good dream. except for the rats.

Jesen u meni tuguje (in me sorrows autumn)
Zasto sanjam cemprese (why do i dream of cypresses)
Moje ceste nikud ne vode (my roads lead nowhwere)
bez tebe (without you)


deep sky, firefly

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