General Non-Fiction posted November 29, 2019

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Fifth Element

by Wabigoon

I'm going to do something I didn't ever imagine I would do. I have decided to do this because I see there is very little comprehension on the part of readers, reviewers, regarding dreams. There is even less comprehension of what I make of the dreams I use.

Because of this I want to do three things:

#1 is I'm going to describe a series of dreams had last night as I think most writers would journal them -- without development. Most dreamers do not believe they need to develop the "pictures" in the dreams.

#2. Then I am going to "develop" the same material, so readers can see some of what I think is there.

#3. Because these dreams use a "Fifth Element," very interesting but annoying Bruce Willis film in which the "fifth element" is the "divine light' released by Leeloo, one of the characters, which stops an asteroid, a "great evil," headed for earth, I am going to include some fifth element poems which should stop anything like an asteroid in its tracks.

Here is the first version of the dreams written as I think most people would record them:

I am in a flat landscape, maybe Nebraska, eastern Montana. We, my wife and I, have to run to five places in this landscape for some reason. I can see three or four of them out across the fields. The first place is a ranch or farm over to the right.

When we get past the first place we run across a vast rectangular field, maybe a mile across. The field becomes a garden. The first garden plants I see are, maybe, huge Hubbard squash. Then the garden becomes a museum, very boring, in a city.

In the second dream, I have to return to the first place out of the five, we stopped. I do not know why. There is something I need here. It, whatever it is, is featured in a couple of stores. The first is the fountain, soda fountain where A.M. (old girl friend) used to work back in high school. Well, it is gone. In its place is some kind of... Secret Service or Intelligence office -- the old fountain is completely gone.

Third, I am in a kind of cave mouth or cliff over on the left side. There's a girl above me and I caress her hair. He boyfriend comes by and grabs her, cuts her viciously with a knife. I tell him to quit it, then shove him off the cliff with a broom.

Isn't that about right? Incomprehensible.stupid, meaningless, bland, flat and boring, prosaic as the flat landscape. Forgotten is dreaming is a "sacred language." It is alive like poetic language. The description of a dream should come alive on the page.

Here's my version of this material including some of places where I would develop it:

Lydia (my wife, means Story in my dreams) and I are is a basically flat landscape -- seems western, or like Nebraska, Kansas maybe. We are running between 5 points -- that's the number in the film, Fifth Element, the fifth element being the "divine light," embodied in Leeloo in the film.

This is a kind of course, running (double meaning, as in "running a race" or "running a machine." This dream causes me to consider "running a course in dreams and writing." I don't know why we are running this course but I do know you have to reach all five points to complete it.)

We run to a ranch or farm house on the right, then off across a huge, rectangular field, at least a mile across toward two or three other places we have to reach. (The flat landscape reminds me of the opening scene in Wizard of Oz.)

At the far end, the field becomes a garden; we pass huge Hubbard (L. Ron Hubbard, founder of Scientology) squash plants. Then the garden becomes a rather boring museum and finally a city.
What I know at this point is we have to return to the first place we stopped -- that it is the "key" to all this.

Next dream we return to that first place. It happens to be Barrington, town where I went to High School. I come into town from the NE and intend to look several places for...something. It is a very particular something, but I do not, now, remember what that something is. (Do not blame yourself for not remembering. The "something" is more than likely something you have lost or that was stolen, eliminated.) One of the places where this something might be is the cafe, magazine store on the town square. The other is the soda fountain where Anne Marie, ex-girlfriend worked.

I come into that area first and it has completely changed. The soda fountain is gone, replaced by a large, official looking building, maybe a Secret Service office which occupies the entire block.

Yes, then lying (double meaning. In Scientology the "client" is attached to an "emeter" that detects when he or she is lying about their response to something.) Yes, lying on a rock ledge like a cave mouth, perhaps, place where the Anasazi built their cliff dwellings. I don't think -- well, yes, I do. There was another image here I forgot that maybe explains this. Maybe this is the "something?" I was fishing from the top of a rock above this place, down into the cave if to what? Catch what it was saying?

Here, the rock I am standing on is undercut and the cave mouth below it flooded. I am fishing down into that flooded cave mouth.

Then, yes, in this place (what I have caught.) I "come to" over on the left side of this cave mouth -- perhaps the cave mouth of the Plutonian from which Persephone was abducted down into the Underworld (abducted down, not up like Dorothy) at Eleusis in Greece.

There's a woman behind me. She sticks her head out (turtle image) from behind me. Trying to be nice I caress her hair. Her boyfriend comes, grabs her by the hair, pulls her out to the lip of the cave and starts to berate her.

He takes out a knife and viciously cuts her around her shoulder. I've had enough, get up, tell him to quit it, ask for a broom someone has, shove him off the cliff.

Here are four very short poems I "found" in the abandoned cabin to which Persephone was abducted to the Underworld. They concern how our "garden level of being" has been raped by a "great evil" to plant those catastrophes leading to the end of the world. If we embody this abuse it will create a fountain of light.

The Adoration

it doesn't look like
the Portinari Altarpiece
crazy monk
painting animals
but a child lying
in a dark stall
with its legs spread
the parents
the adoring shepherds
looking on
the filthy furniture
the dirty green floral pattern rug
anonymous brown stains
on the body

empty beer bottles strewn everywhere
the echoes of screams
in the air
the black hole
just sitting there
not even pretending
to be a shepherd.


they tell me
that part of me
that feels like
cigarette butts strewn across a table
no, a warm, half-empty Coke can full of cigarette butts
Pall Malls, Camels,
yellow stained Marlboro butts
spilled across a table down the crotch of your pants
not like the nave of the convent chapel
not like the wine press
not like the flowers in the courtyard
or the well where no water has been drawn since the rainbow
not like the nuns in their simple brown shifts
does not exist
that's where he stands
looking down
into the hole
in the world


there's a Cubist violin playing somewhere
a Picasso Minotaur stands in the corner
facing in
like a dunce
it feels like someone poured
Grunewald's Crucifixion
through my art
my heart
someone came burning sickness in my mouth
I had to swallow it
I had to swallow it
smear my breasts with it
use it as lubricant
for Le Sacre du Printemps
so the Dance of the Sacrifice
could come in
and in
and out
making brave boys
in soldiers suits
and pink tutus
ance from the trenches
to get killed

get down on all fours
accept the prophecy whore
crawl poor
take the last step for us
but don't tell us what it's like
when the big dick
of the white bull
comes in
and ejaculates Hitler

The Sacrifice

a scythe tore
my dream petticoat
my Christmas Carol underwear
then the black snake
slithered from the growling cylinder block
of the Torah
into my back brain
the Martians
a million goose stepping brooms marched into my bedroom
but it isn't immaculate!
I screamed
that doesn't matter
came the voice from the altar
the sacrifice
it is from the Father's mind
Pastor Hagee
didn't need convincing
the Holocaust was from God

Embodiment -- November 30, Friday, 2019

There are reports on the NBC Nightly News of vicious knife attacks by terrorists on London Bridge in London, that kill two, and in the Netherlands. Citizen bystanders interfere and prevent worse bloodshed in London.
How many could have been killed if I had not manifested this event ahead of time and stopped it?

Necessary for development of these dreams. Some understanding of Eleusis, the great Mystery site in Greece. Having watched the Bruce Willis film, Fifth Element.

My critics can begin to learn why I value dreaming in my writing and begin, I hope, to understand their own instead of discarding them on some nuclear waste dump in Russia.

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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