This is a rough draft.

 

The moon is waning now. I may attempt again the forget lost love ritual. What is good , I was able break ground to understand recurring symbols. Namely, I am very close to pure lucidity in dream life. I can fly, levitate, time travel, pass through walls, become invisible. The dreams of the past waxing moon cycle were all about performing well at work. I worked at a sea side tourist destination. My job was to park the tour bus on the dock. The passengers would transfer from bus to boat. Usually my bus would fall off the dock. But with my will.. mind control… I brought the bus back up out of the water and placed it on the dock. Levitation, telekinesis, no hands. A co-worker chided me but I paid her no mind. It was a certainty I had skills that the employers wanted, however I was unsure what my specific skills were. “The dock is small.” I said. “It’s going to take practice to park the bus there.” The light was tinged grey blue and salty. A dream of the Atlantic.

Lastly, to share a dream about the theater, I met someone who I didn’t know however we had first met in 1560. My hair was long and stylish. A 1940s wartime look. Yet there was no obvious rationing of luxury. I wore fine fabric and lipstick. I liked very much meeting this person. There was an unspoken knowledge that the person was older than me , yet I was more powerful. If I meet this one again I will ask what to do with some of my day to day goals and likewise the artistic/spiritual pursuits with myself and others.

It’s a good time for love. That which is truly yours is never lost. I dislike possession. Yet P. is altogether apart. Because of some shamanism and results with me, J, B, R, S,M it was in 1994. Something happened. The name P. was offered to us. A little fruit of recognition. I speak vaguely. I know nothing.  It is simpler for me to adapt to the ways of dreaming than to current days of technology. I did write to P. P knows nothing about what J, B, R, S and M know. But besides myself, the only other person who remembers that blue night and the crisp days that followed is J. J often hopes that I will forget about the spooky New England revels. Because J.  wants me to be happy. I’m happy. There really isn’t anything much better than group dreaming up a name only to meet the name 9½ years later.

Waning moon, introspection, willpower, and letting go of the perpetual dance.

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