Sleep Mercian

 

i swear my sleep and its journeys and experiences is beginning to rival the mythical force, dream and allure of sex.

i slept for nine hours, after being alert and not getting near sleep until 2:30am

i remember moving a lot last night, adjusting and twisting and changing with my assortment of down pillows/ the only thing i did not do was change my orientation on the bed like when i came home over indulged thursday night. i often wish someone was here filming cause of how i imagine and feel myself in those times. that day i woke up at my bedhead, hugging the body pillow that often does not move, oriented horizontally from bed to side chair.. that was a first.

but last night was special.

i was travelling with my uncle and godfather Patrick Mercian Baptiste. We were either in some African country, a high floor in the UN, or somewhere else in Manhattan. but we were in a high rise office complex building, sterile and clean and quiet. and we were walking down a hallway from an elevator, and we passed a display glass cabinet. full of handmade, hand carved, rare valuable artifacts. and it was open. I no longer remember now who opened it, if it was me or him. and it was like we were moving as if we had the right to take what we wished, and i remembered from the dream one of the first sense I had was that it was hand intricately carved mont blanc pen. i remember there was just one item i was obsessed with amidst a good ten shelves.

i also got the sense we were stealing. but here is the thing. my uncle was or appeared to be the most uprighteous of men, the few who even behind your back always doing the right and honorable thing. i never asked my cousins, but i never got the impression he had other women even, so in this instance i am going against my own rule of life and thumb, here is one man who was loyal and faithful...but i cant explain this display case thing, except that, once we were done, he had the ability to lock that case! and he did.

So who is my uncle? and what was the message of this dream? and i dont remember finally keeping anything from the case, but this is not consistent with my feeling of stealing, but clearly, i had free reign to the case and its contents. and my uncle was dressed in this being cotton properly fitted suit, and he was a younger middle aged man at most, maybe my age now, but not in his 70s as he died. weird fascinating dream,

that dream is like some security blanket i have had since birth and u an a grown old woman writing.

so last night was so blowmind, as if that dream was not big enough, I had another dream..

this time I was driving nyc, we were all going pretty fast, 50mph for inner city is kind of flying, and the streets were full of cars, not like a sunday, holiday or evacuation. just odd for this environment. and i had my old malibu classic, the brown, same car, but it seemed a bit sleeker as if it was a bentley making believe it was a malibu. and i seem to remember a child in the car who seemed not to be a child but a miniature person. yeah. i know that reads funny. and some woman from somewhere, a white woman. i dont know who she was, it would seem as if the people were cars and we were moving in tandem, groups, or as friends, the fluidity of identity, space, beingness. her appearing when i got into the accident, after watching so many before me. it was like an obstacle course the roadway and our cars, we were to make it through escaping the altercations before us and reach our destination, if not to keep going, keep it moving. i think.

and it was either raining or the roads and cars were mysteriously wet, and there were a lot of accidents and fender benders. and i , get into one, i thought i hit a car like a bumper car, but the damage to my car was as if someone hit me, the whole driver's side, the right side, my right hand of the car. interesting now that the dream got that right. this shit ./ these travels be real as a mother. anyway. the car doors were bent in, the top by the glass, was also warped in, but the glass never shattered . they were intact, still glued. and it was a lot of damage, but the sense again was, not really, and it could have been worse, and one wonders when watching the damage, how it is no one in the car was hurt, and the car looks so badly damaged, but not shattered and disintegrated. and that child was not in a car seat but almost sitting on my hand rest in the front seat.

i now wonder who that child is. if it is real in the physical? or just a spirit form real. just like game of thrones last night the son and his guide who are ghosts and can be heard. those are the folk who be calling your name when no body is around, or pulling your hair, or toe, or blowing air on your face or arm. so that is where the dream ends: us surveying damage that seemed to be of no bother concern or consequence.

but at a time during the night cause I was so aware of my sleep, my dreams. at one moment I recounted them all while i slept. there was a third dream I think but i cant recall it now

maybe i should get into race driving where i am going

and maybe as reinforced, my uncle and my people have given me endless access to the resources, inputs and preparations i need for everything.. they are the ones holding the keys. in the spirit realm.

that in no area am i alone. even when among people i do not know. my progress and movement gets impeded, the army is present, be they just numbered one and two.

well at least i remembered the most important of the dreams

that is what i do when i am sleeping. bizarre huh?

 


a girlfriend last night, Astrid, told me her interpretation of the dream was that my time in trinidad idling, healing, liming, wasting is over. that cabinet is locked. time for me to go out and become myself.4

then i learned last evening at 6:39pm: when I was dreaming of Uncle Pat , his son, in houston was thinking of me, and ended up writing me that evening. the links, vibes and connections are strong