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Monday, August 29, 2016

It's been awhile since I have posted. Lots of stuff going on at work, but I think it will be resolved in the next few weeks.

Anyway, I was going through a box of writing notes and I found an email I wrote to a friend in June  2000. That friend named Amy H incidentally passed away two years later, which still makes me sad. I had written to my dear friend that I wanted to write a book of short stories called "Isn't it a Jupiter moment and other short stories of modern girl's life." I think that Jupiter reference must come from that Train song that I don't even know that I really like, and I have no idea what that story wouldn't have been about. But here are the titles to the short stories in this book that I wanted to write:

  • Isn't it a Jupiter moment?
  • My thing with Steve
  • Putting up the Sun Shade
  • His Tenses freak me out (this title makes me laugh)
  • Art is scary
  • The Bat Mobile Car
  • Loking through a big glass ball
  • The Blue Haired Buddah on Union Street
  • We were just chatting online
  • Dreaming of Texas (I turned this story into a novel)
  • Watch out for the Gnats
  • It's way to deep for me
  • Flashbacks at the produce section
  • Tall and white from Detroit
  • Sundown on the Bay Bridge
  • Four California Girls in a Car
I read the titles and I sort of remember why I wanted to write the story. But then there are some titles that I have no idea what story was supposed to go with that title.

As a friend would say, if you can't remember why you wanted to write the story, then it must not have been that important.

I am thinking it might be fun to do free writes on these titles just to see what comes out. And I can see myself doing that on a day when I can't work on the writing I am supposed to be working on, and I want to write something.

Friday, May 20, 2016

This is a more current past life memory.

She watched him sit down at table, and briefly noted what was on his plate. The food at the hotel buffet was not the greatest, and one had to pick and choose what to eat, so his plate was bits of food. He was sitting a few people away from her on the opposite side of the table, but close enough where she could still see him. The people at her table were greeting him excitedly, since it was always a thrill when a lecturer at a seminar sat down to talk to participants. People seemed to really like this man and respect him, and were eager to talk to him.

Her own reaction to him had been strange.  When he walked on stage, he looked so familiar to her which was odd because she had never heard him lecture before. He was attractive in that college professor type of way, which was amusing since he taught college classes. She wondered if they had had a past life connection, which might have explained why he seemed so familiar. And then without thinking, she tried to read him.  That was when the high strangeness started.

As soon as she tried to read his past lives, the alarm bells started going off in her head. She heard a voice start saying, “This is a psy-op, he is part of the psy-op. This is dangerous.” So she stopped immediately, but not before she felt that she was now hyper-aware of him.

And now at dinner, she still  felt so aware of him, every turn of his head, every word that came out of his mouth. He looked at her and she smiled, and it was then she heard him in her mind the phrase. She looked down at her plate, unsure of what just happened. The only other person who could talk in her mind like that had been that trained super soldier that she had heard speak a few months ago.

This man was not a super soldier by any means. He was a college professor who was lecturing at the seminar she was attending in Las Vegas. She looked up again because she felt him staring at her. She looked into his eyes and said to his mind “But I don’t want you.” That was a lie. Of course she wanted him, but something inside of her screamed “NO, this is a psy-op. He is part of the psy-op. Resist, resist, resist.” And so she resisted mentally, but for the first time she felt like she was not in control of her body. Her body was turned out to the nth degree. She knew that if they were alone and he mind-talked to her, she would have walked up to him and started kissing him, rubbing against him. She would have found herself on her knees and doing the thing that she was trained for, which was to bring sexual pleasure to the person who had uttered that phrase.

She looked down at her plate, confused about the thoughts that were going through her head. Training? What training? She looked at him again, but he was chatting with someone else now, but he glanced at her. She took a bite of food, trying to calm her heart down which was now beating rapidly. Her body felt hot and bothered, and took a deep breath to try and control her body. She looked around at her dining companions to see if anyone had noticed anything, but she saw that there were too busy talking to take notice of her.

When she looked at him again, he was getting up from the table.  He had barely eaten any of his food. He looked at her and she half-expected him to mind-talk to her again, but he just looked at her. He said goodbye to everyone at the table.

She was disappointed that he was leaving, but some part of her was glad. She knew he was dangerous to her, but she didn’t know why. All she knew was that no man should be able to mind-talk to her and turn her sexually on with one phrase. The whole situation smacked of control, of training, of things that might have happened to her that was not aware of, of things that she was afraid to delve into because of what it might mean.

She felt someone staring at her and she turned around, and she saw him staring at her before he left the buffet room. She felt a sudden urge to go after him and find him, and demand to know why he was able to mind-talk to her. But she didn’t. Instead she sat there and spoke to her dinner companions, and finished her dinner. She knew she had avoided a potentially dangerous situation, but she also knew that the situation wasn’t over yet.

He knew her code. He knew her phrase. He could potentially her sexually. Someone had given it to him and then taught him to mind-talk. She knew he really couldn't mind-talk to her, because if he really did have that skill he would have continued talking to her, but he did not. The super soldier guy kept mind-talking to her, but the college professor guy did not. He had only been taught how to mind-talk to her that one phrase. But that one phrase was key, her key. The question was who had given him the key and why was he using it, and most importantly why did she feel it was part of her training to please him sexually

Saturday, May 07, 2016

A past life memory from Atlantis.

The seed sounds were deafening. Something had gone wrong, something must have gone wrong. I put my hands over my ears and walked outside of the house. Everything was shaking and moving. And the seed sounds were making it worse.

Their experiment had gone wrong. I knew it would. I warned them that the sounds could not be controlled, but they didn’t listen. The seeds sounds kept reverberating and the more they reverberated the more the world shook until the things that held everything together starting coming apart.

Our wold was being destroyed. My world was being destroyed. I could feel everything in my body start to shake. I knew everything inside would start coming apart eventually. And then the ground shook and I knew the seeds sounds had triggered a massive earthquake.

I looked around me and watched in horror as the structures around me started to collapse. I could faintly hear people screaming, but their screams were being drowned out by the seed sounds.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

A past life memory From Dogon

I saw him but he didn't see me. I wondered where he’d been, who he’d been with, but I knew I would never ask him and he would never tell me. He was strolling along the path that led to our home like he didn’t have a care in the world, but I could tell it was just an act. He was angry, and I knew I was the cause of his anger.

I left the window and went to sit in my favorite chair. It was more of a throne really, but it was very comfortable. The villagers had made it for me, and although I did not want to accept it at first, he told me it would be rude if I turned it down. That was many, many years ago in a much happier time.

We were both happy then when we came to this place. Everything was so new and so different, and we worked very hard to teach the people about who we were and where we came from. But the people here were so primitive, teaching them proved extremely difficult. Nothing in the briefing reports had prepared us for this level of ignorance.

He said it was inevitable that we would be treated like a god and his goddess. But I thought we were brought here to change that behavior, not reinforce them, I told him.  He did not agree. We were talking about behavior for a much more advanced civilization. We would get them to that point, but not right now. I did not agree and we had argued for days. We were still arguing really, because neither of us wanted to concede our positions. But we let it go. We did not fight. We agreed to disagree, but that was start of our disagreement, our anger, which simmered quietly through the years, and which led to this point where we were barely talking to each other. Where he would disappear for hours but always coming back home at night. Where the villagers would bring me stories of where he went and who he was with, and I would smile and thank them, and they cry at night. And the dry my tears before he returned home.

I could smell her on him, even though I know he tried to rid himself of all smells. Somehow her scent always remained. My rival, what a strange thought. We had been together for millions of years, and I was worried about another woman. She was not the first and she would not be the last. I knew that, but somehow on this planet it hurt more than it did in other places.

Friday, April 08, 2016

A past life memory when we left Egypt to go to Maldeck to escape the cataclysm about to happen on earth

The ships were getting ready to leave soon to take us to the planet Maldeck. There was no other way to survive the comet that was headed towards earth but to leave and go somewhere else, and come back when the land was once again habitable.

I was leaving with a heavy heart because I knew my daughter was not coming with us. She wanted to stay on earth. She had seen her future, and it involved staying here to help the people if there were any left survive. She was a high priestess of Anubis. She was adored and worshipped, and she felt it was her job, her calling, her mission to stay with the people through this journey of death.

I did not fear for her safety. I know Anubis would take care of her, heal her back to health if she was wounded. She herself was a gifted healer, and probably could heal herself if needed. But I feared that this task that she taken on would be too much for her. She did not want to admit, but staying here would bring her great suffering as well as great power. Sometimes I wondered if she was doing it for the power for she was such a greedy person, but another part of me knew she felt responsible for the people here, our people, her people.

Could we have stopped the comet? She thinks we could have, with all of our power, but I am not so sure. I am a fatalist at heart, and if we were meant to stop the comet we would have found a way. What we did instead was find a way to escape, so we could take all of earth’s brilliant treasures to another planet for safekeeping until this planet was ready to once again support life.

Already the floods had submerged most of what we had called Atlantis. And this comet would destroy the great capital of Atlantis, which we call Egypt. The Council of Elders had promised those who were ready to leave this planet,  that a team of scientists had gathered to try and find away to stop the planet earth from being destroyed by space debris. The endless cycle of rebirth and destruction was retarding the growth of this planet. Whenever progress was being made, another comet would come around to destroy everything that was built so it was lie starting from scratch all over again. Some had even said we would not be allowed to come back to earth, unless we had a solution to this ongoing barrage of space debris like comets hitting the planet and constantly pushing back the forward evolution of earth

I hope they figure it out and figure it out fast.

De Young Museum SF - Bouquets to Art 2016

Another Bouquets to Art 2016 pic 
Another pic from the Bouquets to Art exhibit

Thursday, April 07, 2016

Not a memory from a past life, but a photo from my present life. This pic was taken at the Bouquets to Art exhibit at the de Young museum in San Francisco. 



Monday, April 04, 2016

A past life memory from an ancient time on the planet Venus.

I thought I loved him, and that our love was strong enough for anything. We had already been through so much together in countless number of lifetimes. Had he not saved me? Had he not rescued me from those many lifetimes where I was exploring my darkside, reveling in the cold and cruel world of negativity? Until I was finally able to leave all of it behind and come back to the light.

But what he was asking was too much. I knew it deep down. I told him, argued with him, but he wouldn't listen. And now I had a choice. Either join him to go down to that new planet which was only just evolving or stay here, and perhaps never see him for God only knows how long.

I went to the window of our house and looked outside. I loved our house here on Venus. The redness of this world was so beautiful. The heat was divine. We had built this house here on this rather desolate planet as our refuge. No one really lived here anymore since the planet was too hot for any kind of life to survive. But we liked it only because we could adapt to any planetary conditions and still live a normal kind of life. This was supposed to be our refuge, where we would stay and rest, not go of traipsing on some unknown planet that was exploring the concept of limitation in every form.

Staring out of the window of this house usually snapped me out of any misery, but not this time. I turned around and walked over to  large crystal sculpture which was sitting on a table in the entrance to our home. It looked like any art piece only it wasn’t just an art piece. It was a record of every life I had ever lived.

I had an incarnation as a crystal being, and the nature of a crystal was to record everything into each of the crystal cells. But crystals are hard and can be chipped off, which I found out by mistake in another life. Every time I chipped off a piece of myself, the crystal would contain all the memories of the life had lived. And so I made the practice after every life to chip two small pieces off of myself. I believe some might call pieces of their soul, but it was really just pieces of my being.

One piece would be buried in the land that I had lived. The crystal piece would hold all the memories and also act as a locator, in case I ever wanted to return to this place for any reason. I had never gone back to any place, but it was nice to know I could go back to any place I had ever been. The second piece came back with me to this house, and was fitted to the sculpture. The best thing about the sculpture was I could touch a crystal and download all of the memories from that life.

I wanted to touch that sculpture again  and relive all of our happy memories. I hadn't touched the sculpture in millions of years, but I couldn’t honestly remember the last time I had been this unhappy. I needed those memories now. I needed those thousand of lifetimes of our memories to help me choose what to do. I couldn’t lose him again, not now.
A post not about a past life memory

I changed the blog to focus on past life memories, but I am going to break my own rule and write a review of “Any Human Heart”, a series I binge-watched on Amazon Prime yesterday.

Here’s the link to the show - https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Any_Human_Heart_(TV_series. The serieswon the BAFTA award for Best Drama serial in 2011, and is based on a novel. The novel writer also wrote the teleplay.

Okay, confession time. The series stars Matthew Macfadyen (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Macfadyen), a British actor who starred in Spooks (MI-5), Little Dorritt, and was Mr Darcy to Keira Knightley’s Lizzie Bennet in a recent Pride and Prejudice movie remake. I have a major film actor crush on Mr. Macfadyen.  God, the man is so cute and adorable. I like that his emotions show in his eyes, and for an English guy, he looks like he’s got some heft to him and is not super thin. I like my boys with some meat on them. Seriously, sleeping in bed with a too thin guy is like sleeping in bed with a hairy girl size wise… YUCKY! The one time I did it, I was afraid to lay my head on the guy’s chest for fear of being too heavy. NO THANKS.

Back to Any Human Heart.  Apart from being a good story about a person’s life, the movie struck me on a very deep level for the following reasons.

Reason # 1. The main character in the tv series lived a very long life, but was really only happy for I would say 15-20% of his adult life, and that was when he was with the woman who was the true love of his life.

  • OMG. This frightening fact is so sad, and I think fairly true. I mean, how many people do you know are in a relationship with the person they know at some darn deep level is the true love of their life? And then count how many of those couples if you can find them in your life, are still together? Don’t think you are going to get a high number here.
  • Think of the implications of this fact. Let’s say you live 60 years of adult life, which is not an unreasonable figure given medical advances. But on average out of those 60 years, only 20% of your life will be really happy with the definition of happiness meaning you are with the love of your life and the relationship is for the most part content. That 20% means 12 years, which then means the other 48 years will either be you wishing to meet the love of your life, or if you’ve met them and for whatever reason they're not with you anymore, you’re going to spend the rest of your life wanting them to be there until at the end of your life, and then you’re going to imagine them calling out to you and when you physically die. You are also going to end up being with people or marrying people who remind you of that true love of your life, because being alone is never fun, but they can never be that person, and then you are going to resent them for not being that person and you will make them and yourself miserable. Oh, and don't forget you will probably hate yourself for trying to marry the fake love of your life. And then if you are so inclined, you will medicate yourself with drugs, alcohol or both, to escape the relationship hell that you’ve gotten yourself into.  These are not pleasant thoughts.
  • Or you could be like me, and wondering if there is anyone I would like to see at very end of my life when death is about to take me, and realize, no person comes to mind. The implication of this situation means could mean a variety of things:
  • You’ve never truly met the love of your life, and I mean the true love of your life, because this is the person you want to see on your death bed calling to you from the other side to be with them. The implications of this scenario are mind boggling as well, especially if you thought you might have met the true love of your life and told that person that, and are now regretting it because it was just one big fat lie.
  • You are incapable of feeling the depth of emotion required to have one great love of your life, which implies you may be shallow and don’t even know it.
  • You were born amazingly emotionally stunted from birth, and just never got the hang of the whole emotion thing.
  • You’ve never been in love before, which I cannot even imagine what this feels like because I am one of those people who fall in love quite easily.
  • You’ve had such a horrific childhood that falling in love with someone is just not something will ever happen in your life because you are so emotional f-ed up. 
  • I could go on and on, but the last point is making me too sad so I have to move on to the next point.
Reason # 2. Growing old and not having enough money is not a good thing. I mean being any age and not having money is never a good thing, but at least up to a certain age you can go out and get a job.  As one ages, getting a decent job to support yourself becomes harder and harder, which means having enough money to buy food is difficult.  The new fangled term for not having enough money to buy food is called “food insecurity”. It sounds a bit better than starving, but it practically means the same thing.
  • Feeding America reported that in 2013 that 9% of all senior were food insecure. With the way food prices have gone up, I am sure that number is higher now.
  • And there are tons of anecdotal stories of seniors surviving on cat or dog food because it is cheaper and they think they need to eat some sort of protein to live.
  • I do not want to be one of those people who are forced to eat pet food. That just freaks me out. I’m not even sure if it’s real meat in the pet food anyway, at least not the kind of meat most people are used to eating. I mean for all I know, it could be horse food or a sci-fi nightmare like Soylent Green which is food made from people. In the recent movie Snowpiercer, they ground up insects to make protein bars.
  • I am so ready to start learning how to eat low calorie or the LifeExtension diet, the theory of which being to live longer you need to start eating less food. But I really don’t care about living longer. I just think it might come in hand to start learning how to eat less now, so that by the time I get to senior age I will be used to not eating a lot of food. The LifeExtension diet is also very low protein and almost no cooking, which would be perfect if you are an old git and don’t want to cook anymore.
Reason # 3. When you live a long life, you are inevitably going to be in situations where you have to get up and go, and I mean literally get up and go  and where all you have is a few possessions because either there is an impending disaster or war and you need to get the heck out of dodge. There is a disaster or war and you lose all of your possessions because your dwelling place is no longer there anymore.
  • When I work up this morning, I realized that I had way to many possessions. And that if an impending disaster natural or otherwise were to happen, I could lose everything and have to start over.
  • I remember this couple whose house burnt down in the Oakland Hills fire years ago. They told me the things they wished they had saved were their family and wedding pictures. They took some possessions when they evacuated, but they never thought to take their pictures. The couple had just gotten married a few years earlier, and the woman was so bummed out not to have saved her wedding pictures.
  • So other than pictures, what is there to really hold onto? Jewelry maybe, because some of them need to be kept for sentimental reasons because they belonged to long dead family members. I’m not sure what else. My writings? Maybe, but they can always be recreated. And if there were was a total disaster, who is to say that I would be able to access all the stuff that is now stored on a computer or drive or on the Internet. Would I even have access to a computer if I stored everything on the web.
  • What is so sad for me is as I survey all my possessions, I would be a little sad were I lose them, but mostly I would be freaked out at having to replace them after losing them.
  • And when you get old, I don’t think I am going to living in a very large place. I mean, who is going to want to do housework for a big place when you get old even if you the money to have a big place. You are going to want something very small with little to no cleaning. As seriously when you get very old, your senses go anyway. I’ve walked into old people’s house that just stank really bad and I don’t think they knew how bad it smelled because their sense of smell was practically non-existent. And once your eye sights goes, are you really going to notice whether something is dusty or not?
  • Even traveling becomes a pain because when you get really old, you lose a lot strength and lugging about a large suitcase is not going to work for you anymore. I saw an older woman going to Kauai with a small suitcase. I thought she would be able to handle it, but she needed help lifting it up into the overhead bins. And the suitcase was really small, maybe 18 inches. I don't even know how she was going to get around Kauai because you need a car when you’re there. But I heard her make taxi reservations to go to the Kauai Marriott, which I thought was a good choice for an older person because you don’t have to leave the resort. They have restaurants onsite, the beach is there, and they probably have shuttles to take you places if needed. I mean it’s expensive but at least all your needs are taken care of at the resort.

Okay, now I am really depressed and want to watch the tv series again. I also want to own the DVD and may even read the book.

I remember reading that hip hop artists love the Brian de Palm movie Scarface for the lessons. Any Human Heart is having the same impact on me. I may have to watch this series bunches of times to absorbe all the lessons, but there are definitely lessons in this Brit tv series.

Sunday, April 03, 2016

A past life memory from a possible future timeline.

At 10 am an announcement was made through my building’s PA system that all US citizens were now subject to random genetic testing, and the occupants of our building were going to be taken to a testing center at a nearby research facility in Palo Alto for the test. Everyone on my floor stood up and we all looked at each other in surprise. I had seen the reports on alternative news websites about the random genetic testing, and about the government efforts to find those citizens suspected of having a large number of alien genetics. But some part of me didn’t know if those reports were true or false.  There was nothing on mainstream media  about the random genetic testing, and you would think that if the government was rounding up large groups of people to test that the  mainstream media would be reporting on what was going on because it affected so many people.

But before anyone had a chance to say anything, I saw what looked like soldiers  in combat gear walking around the floor and position themselves so there was a soldier for each two rows of cube. The building PA announcer came on again and told us to get ready to leave the building and follow the soldiers outside. We could bring food if we wanted and other personal effects, but we could not take our cellphones and purses. Food and water we were bringing had to be carried or had to fit in our coats and jackets.

I sat down and unlocked my drawer to open my purse. I took my makeup bag, a pen and paper, and other things I thought I would need and stuffed into the jackets of my ski jacket, grateful I had this jacket today with its many pockets. I locked and my drawer, and searched through my backpack for a protein bar which I carried for emergencies and grabbed my water bottle which thankfully was already full of water. I was debating whether to try and smuggle my cellphone, but decided against it in case I was caught.

I heard a large tapping on the wall of the building so I stood up and saw that everyone else on my side of the floor already had their jackets and coats on except for me. I hurriedly put on my coat and as soon as it looked like I was ready the solider standing in front our cubes yelled “Follow me and no talking!”. He walked towards the elevator and my cube mates and I lined up and followed him. I looked at person behind me who was a good office friend, and she shrugged her shoulders and shook her said. I looked into her eyes and I knew she was as scared as I was, but we both knew there very little we could do about our situation. The soldier who was assigned to our cube rows opened the floor door and indicated that we should walk through.  There were more soldiers in the elevator bank. When the elevator door opened, one of the soldiers stepped into the elevator and told us to get in. They tried to cram as many people as could fit into an elevator, and I was glad when we reached the lobby and doors opened.

There were more soldiers in the lobby directing people where to go. Outside of our building were four large white buses and the soldiers were escorting people onto the bus. Before you could get on the bus, each passenger was scanned by another soldier with what looked like a satellite dish. The solider with the satellite dish pointed it a person and if it detected something, I watched as another soldier search that person and find a cellphone. The solider took the cellphone and tossed into one of those large grey bins that you see at airport security checks. The bin looked to be full of phones. I shook my head glad that I decided not to smuggle in my cellphone.

But even after the cellphone search, there was another body search and I saw pens and paper being discarded as well into another grey bin. I guess the military didn’t want anybody recording anything about the genetic random testing. It also also looked like the military had blocked off our street because there were no cars going by outside and I did not see the usual stream of people walking around outside on our side of the street and also across the street. I wondered if people from other buildings could look down and see what was happening, and what they thought.

When it was finally our turn to step outside the building, I looked up and saw that a large white tent had been erected which blocked the view of what was going on with our building from onlookers in surrounding buildings.  This meant that no one could see what was happening, and all they would see I think is the four white buses leaving the tented area. I couldn’t see any military vehicles either. But I did notice that outside of the tent were men dressed in navy blue jumpsuits and navy blue baseball hats surrounding the perimeter of the tent like guards.  If the men in the navy blue jumpsuits set up the tent and the soldiers came in the large buses, no one watching the tents being set up would even know this was a military operation.

When it was my turn to get on the bus, I passed the satellite dish test but during the hand search test the solider found my pen and paper and threw them into the bin. He didn’t say anything and indicated that I should get on the bus. Another soldier was standing in the middle of the bus and indicated that I should sit in one of the empty seats near him. Thankfully it was a window seat so I could see outside. The soldier on the bus kept repeating no talking if someone said something, so we were not being allowed to talk about what was happening to us.

The process to get the whole building into these buses went quickly, and soon as bus was full of people the book took off. There was no military escort so as not to draw attention to the bus, and the bus was one of those commuter buses that were taking employees down the peninsula to Yahoo or Google, so there was nothing to indicate to the outside world that my whole building was being kidnapped by the US government for some crazy random genetic testing.

I started to feel sleep and noticed that people around me were starting to feel sleepy as well. I vaguely wondered if the Army was pumping the bus full of gas to make us sleep. I had the wild urge to stand up to see if the soldier who had remained on our bus had put on a gas mask, but I was too afraid. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was 10:30 am and then I blacked out.

I heard a loud noise and jerked awake. For a second I didn’t know where I was, and then it all came back to me. I looked down at my watch and saw it was 11:30 am. Wherever the bus had taken us, it was an hour away from downtown San Francisco. I looked outside and saw that the bus was parked in some kind of building. A voice came over the bus speaker system and told us to stand up and to move outside of the bus. I stood up and saw people lining up to get off the bus.

We were herded by another solider as soon as we stepped off the bus into a long line of people who heading towards a room that was located almost to the end of the large building where the buses were parked. I looked around but there was not much to see. Anything that would distinguish what this building had been taken down, and the place looked very empty like it had hardly been used.

I looked at the faces of the people in line some of whom I knew from work, and all I could was fear. This experience was so out of our realm of experience that I was sure some people were in shock. I think I was in shock as well because I felt like I was in the middle of some bad dream and that I was going to wake up at any time. And if it was a dream, why was my dream full of people from work. I hardly dream about people from work, and if people from work are in my dreams, it is only the ones that I know very well or who are in charge like the CEO or VP of my division.

The room where we being led to was also large. There were people lined up and being made to stand in front of a large scanner. On the other side of the scanner, were three groups of more people. Once you were scanned, you were led into one of the groups.  The first group had 10 people. The middle group had numbers that looked to be twice that size, and third group was the largest. I wasn’t sure what group what was what, but I assumed that the smallest group were the people who had the largest amounts of alien DNA. I didn’t think there could be that many humans with much alien DNA. I looked at the people in smallest group, and there was nothing to indicate that there so called reptilians types of Nordics.  They looked like ordinary people. I had even been meetings in some of them and they didn’t stand out in anyway. They were smart but everyone at work was smart.

When it my turn to turn in front of the scanner, I saw there was a person in a lab coat turning on the scanner.  Behind the person in the lab coat were two soldiers who looked to be overseeing the process.  I felt somebody staring at me and looked up and was surprised to find another room high above where we were with glass windows.  I didn’t notice it when I was scanning the room earlier. Looking down on me were a group of military types in more formal uniforms, and some of the uniforms were covered in medals.  Then I saw another odd looking person on the right of the medaled group of soldiers. He was very tall and blonde and looked to be wearing some kind of robe. He was dressed like a character out of a Star Trek movie or maybe even Star Wars because the robe looked like something a monk would wear.

The monk-robed man started staring at me, so I looked down feeling a little creeped out. I felt the air around me vibrate and I looked up to see the shocked faces of the people in front of me. The vibration stopped, and the man in the lab coat smiled at me. All of a sudden there was the sound of a ringing phone, and the man in the lab coat reached into his pocket and took out his cellphone. He didn’t say anything but I watched as he nodded while staring at me the whole time. The man in the lab coat dropped his phone back into this lab pocket coat, and walked over to one of the soldiers and said something to him. Something was going on.

The soldier walked over to me and told me come to follow him.  He led me past the man in the lab coat and went to stand near a set of doors. I looked back to see if anyone had noticed, but there was another person standing in front of the scanner so they were continuing on as if nothing had happened. I scanned the line of people and some of were looking in my direction, but then a group of soldiers came up and lined up in front of them them blocking their view.

I heard a noise and the door opened and the solider told me to step into the room. As I entered the room I saw an elevator open and another solider standing there. The door closed being me. The soldier told me to step into the elevator. I stepped into the elevator and the door closed, and the elevator went up with just me in it.

The elevator door opened and standing outside the elevator was the monk-dressed tall blonde man. He nodded and gestured for me to step outside. The men in the uniforms with the the medals were there studying me.

I heard a voice in my head saying don’t be afraid. I looked back at the monk-dressed tall blonde man and he nodded as if to acknowledge that he was the voice I was hearing in my head. As he was able to read my thoughts, he said in my head, “Don’t worry about the others. They will not be harmed. But they will be categorized. Don’t use your mouth to speak. Use your mind.”

“Why am I here?” I said in my mind wondering if he could hear me. “Your percentage of alien DNA is the highest we have tested so far. The generals are all wondering why no one has flagged you. Your military keeps track of people that they suspect of having high percentages of alien DNA. You were looked at but never flagged, and that bothers them. Why you ask? Because they are now wondering how many people they have missed. Your presence has caused a national security emergency.”

“But I am not an alien. I am human like everybody else.” I screamed in my head.

The monk-robed tall blonde man smiled. “If you didn’t have a high percentage of alien DNA, we wouldn’t be having this mind to mind conversation. A normal human would take years of training to do what you are doing without any training. But don’t worry. It will all be explained. There have been legends, rumors really, about the reptilians hiding their offspring in plain sight. The reptilian children often do not know they are reptilian and go about their normal lives until something happens to trigger their abilities. In your case, your government had been tracking you because at age 9 you were tested and had the reading level of an 18 year old. Such intelligence anomalies in children are automatically flagged and case files are opened up to study these children. I have read your file and although you had an intelligence anomaly and some physical anomalies like extraordinary eyesight and better than average physical abilities, there was nothing that out of place to warrant testing further. Oh, you were always watched and your file is full of observations about your life but there was nothing to suggest that you had the high percentage of alien DNA that the scanner found. In fact, until my people made the modifications last year, you probably would have tested into group 2. Group 2 is for people with a high amount of alien DNA but not enough for the government to be concerned about for national security.”

“And what exactly is my percentages of alien DNA?” I asked again in my head. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer to this question, but I felt that I needed to ask.

"67%, which means 2/3 of your DNA is not of human origin. And for your information, the highest we have found is 40%. And those people that have the 40% alien DNA could not have a mind to mind conversation because I have tested them myself. We much to talk about you and I. You will need to undergo further testing. Your government wants to make sure we find those that are like you, and they want to use you as the test experiment.”

Saturday, April 02, 2016

A past life memory from ancient Egypt.

I looked at the head priest from the Anubis temple, and wondered why he had asked to have an audience with me. My husband was away with the overseer for a few days to check on the granaries, so I knew he felt safe coming to the palace. Although my husband had diminished the influence of the head priests and their many gods, they were still well-respected members of our kingdoms. I looked at him kneeling before me patiently, and sighing I raised my hand so he could stand up and speak.

“My Queen, may the God Anubis bestow many blessings upon you for your health and happiness, and may Ra forever bless you.” I nodded and smiled. He always started sessions with those blessings, which always sounded so sincere but which always left me wondering whether it was all just an act.

“How is my daughter doing in her schooling? I trust she is not giving you any trouble.” My oldest daughter had begged to be taught at the Anubis temple, and after many months of persuasion, my husband had finally agreed to let her go and study there.  The temple schools were the best in the land, and although he had launched a campaigning to stamp out the influence of the ancient gods in hopes of instilling in the country his one true God, even he had to admit that our daughter would receive the best education if she was educated in a temple.

“She is a wonderful student. She has  already been talked about by the teachers as being at the top of several of her classes.” The head priest recited with pride.

“Good. Then can I assume you are here for another reason although I cannot understand what that reason would be”

The head priest nodded, and then clapped his hands once. I felt the air shift a little, and when I looked back at the Anubis head priest I saw that he had assumed the visage of Anubis himself. “Daughter, know who I am?” Anubis growled at me. I think he was trying to intimidate me, but I was not afraid.

“You are the great God Anubis” I said matter of factly.Anubis smile and bowed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you being here at court.”

“Your daughter will one day be my head priestess. And for giving me your daughter, I would like to offer you something that I have never offered outside of the temple. I wish to give you the gift of being able to call on me for protection, and for the gift to reincarnate with you so you will always have it.”

“What does that mean exactly?“

Friday, April 01, 2016

Been going out after work so I haven't felt like writing. It takes a lot to get into the space where I can remember a past life memory. But I do want to keep up the habit of writing every day, so here goes.

A past life memory from Dogon

We were alone finally, and I felt exhausted. There were too many people to attend to. Too many people who were following us around, wanting us to touch them so they could be blessed. This was not why we came here. We did not come here to be worshipped as gods. We came here to teach, to lead. He told me were coming to teach and lead.

I looked at the man, my twin, whom I had been for so many lifetimes. When did he change I wonder? He wasn’t like this when we first came to this planet. He only wanted to teach these people that we found.  So we taught them about our planets. We thought them what we knew. We told them about our four sets of twins, who would come later. We told them about the water beings that lived on our twin planet, that had come here ahead of us to live in the sea. We told them that these water beings would stay here and help guide them, if they were ever in the water.  We went to the sea and summoned them, and the people marveled at the dolphins and whales who came close enough to shore to be seen.

But after two years, something changed in how these people regarded us. I sometimes wonder if people started treating us differently when they realized that after two years we hadn’t changed, we hadn’t aged like they did. I wanted to explain it them, but he told me not too. He said it would confuse people if they knew nothing could harm us. It wasn’t really true that we could not be killed, but it would take a lot to kill us and we doubted anyone had the knowledge to kill us.

So instead of treating us like teachers, as honored guests of their culture, the people started treating us as special people. We were moved to a larger living dwelling. I protest but he said that we needed the extra space anyway. Our daily classes became larger as more and people wanted to learn what we were teaching. I was actually quite happy that more people wanted to lear, so I rationalized to myself that this new elevation in status was for the good.

But I think I knew deep down that this was all wrong, that we were heading down a path that if not stopped now, would be harder and harder to leave once started.But the changes the villagers were making were so gradual, that I think I could be forgiven if I said it was hard to complain when only gradual changes were being made. Besides, I did not blame these earth people. I blamed my husband. He knew exactly what he was doing. And what’s more, I knew that he was welcoming these changes.

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Memory of a past life in the Andromedan star system

I waiting patiently in receiving room wondering when the King would arrive. I dreaded how he would react to the news that my husband had left the planet without letting anyone know. It was such a breach of protocol for a diplomat to leave without anyone official know. What was my beloved husband thinking? And leaving me to pick up the pieces in the hopes of trying to avert a diplomatic scandal. He said I would be fine, that he was useless here, that he needed to get back to Sirius to continue his research, and that I was fine substitute for him.

I shook my head at my husband’s thoughtlessness.  I am sure the King would have been amenable to any change, but to force the issue like this was just unconscionable. We had come here to study this culture, to see if they had suffered from the lack of diversity as we had. But the Andromedans were fine. There was no decay in their older population, despite the fact that their society was just as closed as our was And after two years here, we were no closer to finding out their secrets if there were any to find,

My husband was frustrated. He had only taken this post in the hopes that the study of this culture would further his research, give us answers as to why the older crystals beings on our planet were dying, and shattering before their time.

I heard the door open, and saw the King stride into the room. As soon as he saw he bowed, and then went to sit in the large throne like chair opposite across from me. I studied his face in hopes to read his mood, but his face was impassive. I prayed my face was just as unreadable. I watched him glance admiringly at me, and I was secretly glad that I had spent some time to make sure that I looked my best. Mother had always taught me that if one must face adversity, one should always be dressed their best so one could feel confident in the situation.

“My ministers have told me that your husband has left the planet.” The king intoned. “Did he leave an explanation for me fo me?” I opened the satchel I had brought and took out the letter my husband had written for the king. I handed the letter over the King, hoping that my husband had apologized in the letter and fully explained his actions. If the King asked me, I wasn’t sure if I could explain my husband’s actions, so I was immensely glad when my husband had given me the letter with instructions to give it to the King.

I contemplated the King’s face as he read the letter. I saw his eyebrows rise up, but his eyes and expressions were unreadable. I was impressed. I am sure he had learnt over the years never to show his emotions to anyone, but his control over his facial expressions was remarkable. Then his lips turned up into a smile and he looked up and our eyes locked. I felt my breathing become shallow. The attraction I had always felt for the King rose to surface. I had forgotten that it  was even there since I had managed to control it and hide it some deep dark place in my being. But the desire I felt for this being came roaring back as if it knew my husband was not around to impede its life. Something of what I felt must have shown in my face or my eyes, because I saw the King’s smile get broader.

“While I am not pleased by your husband’s actions, I approve his decision to leave you her in his place. It will give us a change to get to know each other without anyone’s interference.

I nodded my head in agreement, not knowing what to say or how to react other than to say yes. The situation between the King and I had become dangerous, and part of me was glad at the change in circumstances

Monday, March 28, 2016

Past / Future Life Memory as a Weapons Designer

This is a past / future life memory from another dimension and planet where I am a weapons designer.

The weapons testing room had been set up with a different crew this time.  All volunteers of course, but these were not the regular volunteers.  These were ex-military types who now made their living as mercenaries for corporations, countries, private individuals, anybody willing to hire them for a decent price.  I reviewed their names, and noted that some of them were quite famous, space pirates even, all incredibly lethal and all of course skilled at cheating death. Perfect, I mumbled under my breath, hoping no one would hear me.

“Did we pay them?” I asked that guard who was surveying the volunteers. “Yes, ma’am. And too much if you ask me.” He said not turning around. “Do they know what we’re testing and why they’re here?” I walked over to the instrument panels for one final check. I didn’t really care if they knew or not, and it was none of my business how much the government wanted to pay them, but I hated to test weapons on people who didn’t know what was being tested since it made for bad results.

“They know what we do here, so they are curious as to what they can expect to purchase next year.” The guard murmured finally turning around to look at me. I almost want to tell him they only volunteer to find out if they can back-engineer what we’re doing and get it market quicker than we can, but I’m not interested in making that much small talk.

"They say that this is a very special weapon that you’re testing. That there is nothing like it out in the universe.” Joked the guard. “I’ll let you be the judge of that.” I stared at the guard until he turned around and went back to where he had been standing.

I took off my lab coat and checked the cuff I was wearing. I surveyed the clothes my lab assistant had procured for me from Supplies, and wondered if all our soldiers had to wear to this crazy outfit. I was dressed all in black with enough pockets on my pants and jacket to carry all sort of things, although I am not sure how I would move if every pocket was full of something or other. The shoes looked right though. Regulation boots made to endure all sorts of weather conditions.

I felt someone looking at me and found the guard gaping at me with his mouth wide open. I couldn’t tell if he was in shock or about to say something. I decided I had better say something before he did “I am testing the weapon today. Is there a problem with that?” I announced in my most official of voices.

“No, ma’am. But, if I may be allowed to speak isn’t this a little unusual?” I shrugged my shoulders and confided in him “Yes, but we couldn’t find anyone else on such short notice to be handle the weapon. So since I developed it, management decided I should test it as well.”

“But ma’am, you’re not a field person. And you’ll be in there with those, those killers”. Warned the guard. “They will be more afraid of me after the test is done. But don’t worry. I will be standing on the other side of the room. Shall we begin?” I suggested walking towards the door on the other end of the testing room. The guard nodded, but I could tell he wanted to say something more. He said nothing, and I was thankful that the outlandish rank the military gave me prevented him from questioning my orders.

As we slowly walked to the room, I went over in my head all the precautions my team and I had put in place in case this weapon test failed. I was on opposite side of the weapons testing room, and in case of a failure, a forcefield would be activated in the middle of the room separating me from the volunteers. The field would be up for 5 minutes, and if anyone touched the field, they would get the equivalent of a small electric shock. The field could handle one thousand hands touching it before finally giving out, and there were only 10 people in the room so we had some confidence that the field would hold. The 5 minutes would give me enough to time to leave the room and lock the door. But I knew there would be no failure.

The guard opened the door, and I sauntered into the room hoping to look confident and assured. I heard the door close behind me.  There was 50 feet of empty space between me and my bloodthirsty volunteers, so I moved to the half way point between the line which demarcated the middle of the room. Thankfully, someone on the team decided that it might be a good idea to give me a microphone so I wouldn’t have to yell, so I flipped it on.

I looked up an the volunteers who were starting to move towards me. “Gentleman. Thank you for volunteering.” I began. They stopped in their tracks at the sound of my voice, so I continued. “This will hopefully be a short test. You don’t have to do anything but stand there, while I test the weapon.” I pressed the first button on the cuff, which measure the frequency of everyone in the room. There was a little screen on the cuff, and when it displayed the average frequency of the volunteers. I pressed the second button, which measured my frequency. Thankfully, when my frequency was displayed there was enough off a differential where I could be test up to four scenarios. The third button was an accelerator which you could press to set the beam to whatever frequency you chose.

“What type of weapon are you testing?” One of the volunteers yelled out. I smiled. “As you may or may not be aware, all bodies have a frequency which we now have instruments to measure. The body frequency is like an electrical current. If one cuts the flow of the current to the body for even just one second, the body goes out, faints, much like what would happen if you turned a light off. No harm would come to the person however, since the body would automatically start regenerating its currents on its own.”
“That type of weapon isn’t new. Those have been out for years.” Another volunteered bellowed out.
“True. The laser weapon isn’t new, but no one has come up with a laser that you could use on a large group of people.” The volunteers looked at each other as if they were trying to ask each other if what I said was true.”
“But you have obviously.” A volunteer marveled.
“Yes, and now we will test it.” I pressed the third button twice, which accelerated the the weapon frequency to two degrees above the average in the room. I pressed the fourth button, which activated the laser and sent out a high toned pitch which you hear. Immediately 2/3 of the volunteers dropped in a dead faint. I smiled at the efficiency of the weapon. Not bad for a first test. The remaining volunteers looked at me and started slowly walking backwards to the other side of the room.

I grinned and pressed the third button twice again, and hit the fourth button. This should knock  everyone out in the room, and it did. I looked up at my team who were staring in awe at me through the glass windows that lined the top half of the room, and waved and gave them a thumbs up. The test was a success and the weapon worked. I looked at the volunteers lying on the ground. None of them were moving. I briefly wondered how long they would be out, but that was for the team to figure out.
I felt a weight lift from my shoulders.  Five years of hard work and lab testing were over. I was ready to celebrate. I walked back to the door, knocked on it, and waited for it to open, fantasizing about the size of my next bonus. I was definitely going to take a long vacation this year, maybe even to that spa I heard about on Venus. The door opened and I walked out out of the room with a big smile on my face.

A memory from the past life with the Elf Man.

I am dying, wasting away. I am betraying every elfin law I know but letting myself die this way, but I do not care. Some part of me tells me there will be karma to pay for countless lifetimes, but even that dire pronouncement elicits no response.

I didn’t think I would ever hurt this way, feel this damaged, this broken. I feel like part of my soul was ripped in half, stolen so brutally, that time itself will never heal the scar. The scar will be open and bleeding, and part of my soul will forever be leaking away drop by drop through the centuries.

I sit in our lovely house, looking out the window at the sea. The beautiful wide sea, with all its power and immensity. I keep thinking that he will come back to me. That what I saw was a nightmare and I will wake up soon, and my beloved elf man will be here next to me nuzzling my neck the way he does so every waking morning of our life.

But I do not wake up because I do not sleep. I cannot sleep. When I sleep, the nightmares come. The moments I last saw you come back in all its cruelty, and I wake up screaming and crying. I cannot relive, will not relive those moments ever again, so I stopped sleeping.  I stopped eating as well because eating reminds me of you. Being out in the garden and working reminds me of you. Everything reminds me of you. But sitting at at the window staring out at the sea does not remind me of you, even though I know I have often sat here waiting for you to come home.

The plant devas come and plead with me to take care of the plants in the garden. They saw what happened as well, so they know my pain. They tell me that I can go on, that I can live again, and that they will help me find my joy again. I smile at them but I say nothing. They are persistent.  They come every day, and talk to me, plead their case.  And every day I smile and listen to them, and at the end, I say nothing.  Sometimes I fear they will find other elves to come and talk to me, but there are no other elves left.  There are very few of us left in this world now. And the ones that are left, have gone far underground or have made themselves as small as birds that one cannot even see them.  A few have gone to live with the humans vowing to adapt themselves to that world.

I keep asking myself why didn’t either of us see this situation coming. We had always been able to see our future so we could stay ahead of it.  We wouldn’t have lived this long without staying steps ahead of the future. Where did we go wrong? You once told me a long time ago before we started down this path, that we would only be able run for so long and that the future and time will catch up with us. But even you weren’t sure when that time would come, and if it would come at all.

Did you know that time was catching up with us and not tell me? Because if you did know, then it was cruel of you not to tell me. Did you think it would spare me?  Could not you foresee my future and how I would feel? That by not telling me, you would condemn me to to this ever spinning vortex of pain. By not telling me you would banish me to a world where feelings of hatred and misery would intertwine within me and solidify as one feeling quite indistinguishable from each other. And that feeling would do its best to try and extinguish any love that I have for you. And that I would spend what is left of my life protecting the love I have for you from the misery/hate I have for you.

And that in the end, I would long for death, wish for death even more than I ever longed for you, so I could protect the love that I have for you in my heart.

And it is our love which is keeping me alive right now. Because in the end at the final end of my life, our love wants to win, wants to stay in my heart, and banish all the hatred and misery away. So in my final moments, I will not see your final moments with me but the first moment I knew I loved you and I knew that you loved me. Because this is the memory that our love wants me take into eternity.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Dedicated to the Elf Man, who followed the elves that led him to my blog once so long ago. This is what I see of our past life, our one relatively speaking short happy and contented life together.

We lived by the sea in a small cottage on the shore away from hustle and bustle of the capital. We were happy together you and I. We were neither very rich nor very poor, for all our needs were met. You went out every morning in your boat, and brought food for us to eat.  Strange food sometimes, gifts that the Mer people your friends had given you to bring to shore. I had a vegetable garden in the back, and with help from the plant devas our garden gave us more than enough food to eat.

Our cottage was filled with remnants of our old lives which neither of us could quite let go. The fancy furniture from both our parents, the luxurious linens and clothes that we brought with us from the capital. To an outsider who did not know us, we looked like any poor old elf couple eking a simple living by the sea as we wore the simple clothes befitting our current stature.

To those who did know us, whom I believed despised us because turned our backs on everything we knew, we were that rebellious couple with so much promise. You were the most brilliant wizard in our class, and could have had your pick of serving any kingdom as a spiritual leader. The head of our school said your powers were unlimited. There was only one other person who was probably your equal, and that was me.  I could have married a king or served as spiritual leader to any kingdom, which would have my parents very happy.

We might have even been able to marry each other, and served any number of kingdoms if we wanted to, for together we were that powerful and wanted. But that was not what we wanted. Not after what we had seen what was to come, what was to happen to our land and to our people.

And so we ran away, away from responsibility, away from our families, for a chance to experience the happiness we knew we would never have had we stayed. We had our many, many years together and we were happy, but such happiness does not come without a price. To keep our identities a secret, we vowed to never have children for a child would have seemed out of place in our disguise as an older couple. How I longed for children in those days, to see a miniature version of you or me or a mixture of both of us scampering about our little cottage.

But the war that ravaged our land which we had been able to escape finally reached us after all, no matter how many times we moved to different shores. I sometimes think I can see the soldiers dragging you away, but those memories are still so very painful even now that some part of me blocks them away unwilling to let me experience the horrors of that day.

And all I am left with is the very happy memories of us and our very many cottages by the sea. And the gratitude that thousands of years later, you were able to find me, that some kind elves led you to me, to remind me our stolen happiness. 

Saturday, March 26, 2016

Past life memory of teaching a class in an Egyptian mystery school.

I teach this class to children who are at least 8 years old, to mystery school students who are tagged as advanced by other teachers. This is a beginning exercise that the student can explore further as they grow older. It’s a simple exercise really, at least it is to me. No one taught it to me. I just know how to do it, and when my mystery school teachers found out I could do it, they persuaded me to stay at the school and teach it other students. In my 10 years of teaching, I have not found another student who just knew how to do this.  I find this fact oddly disturbing at some level, but it does give me a sense of job security if there is such a thing.

My class is filled with children of varying ages, and they are 10 children in all. They all look rather smug if you asked me, but then I suppose they have every right to be. You don’t get to be in my class unless some teacher has singled you out as being advanced.

I smile and ask them to sit in a circle a foot apart. Having them sit in a circle allows me to walk around to make sure each child is getting the exercise. I tell them to close their eyes, and then to imagine taking a spark of light from their own soul. And once they have the light, to create  a large circle of light spinning to the right. After a few minutes when I can feel that each child has that spinning circle in their mind, I tell them to take another spark of light from their soul and to make that spark into another large circle of light, but this time spinning to the left. And when I can see the student have both circles of light  spinning in their mind, I tell them to join the circles of light to create the eye of Horus, our beloved God. Once I see all the beautiful eyes of Horus in their mind, I tell them to lower the eye of Horus over them making sure that they are in the iris part of the eye.

I tell them you might feel sensations coming over their body, a sense of weightlessness, a tingling maybe.  Whatever physical sensation they are feeling is okay and is part of the process. I tell them to lower their eye of Horus until the eye has touched the ground.

Then I tell them to imagine seeing themselves in the eye of Horus and to open their eyes. I tell the students that I will walk around the circle, and touch each student on their heads one by one, and when they feel the touch they are going to describe to the class what they see in their mind’s eye.

I start, and one by one each student says out loud what they see. The first student asks if he is sitting in a portal.  I smile because some person in the class always asks this question. I tell the student yes, this is a portal, but it a special portal, because it doesn’t go the same place for each person.  Since each student created the portal with the light of their soul, the portal becomes a vortex gateway to one of their past lives, a past life that is important for that person to see right now.

This is the fun part because each student talks about what they see, hear, sometimes smell as well, and I am always amazed at the type of lives that each student talks about in the circle.

When all the students are done speaking, I tell them to imagine the circles of light becoming one and forming a single spark of light, and to imagine that light going back into their soul.

When the exercise is done, I tell the students to opent their eyes, and I give them a 15 minute break.  Then I tell the class that they will meet with me for 7 more sessions, which is 8 sessions in all. I tell them that I have found through past experience, that it takes about 8 sessions for each student to become proficient at this exercise.  I tell them some of them will master this exercise in less time, and a few of them may need more time, but that they will all master this exercise. I tell them that this exercise will have many uses for them in whatever they decide to do with their lives. I let them know that one hour has passed, but that each session will get progressively longer as they practice stepping out of the portal and entering the world of their past life.

This memory fragment came this afternoon, although I have had different variations of this memory previously.

We are all standing in line in front of a large glass box.  There are armed guards everywhere. Everyone is terrified. The person who looks to be in charge is surveying the crowd.  He looks like your typical movie villain evil professor with glasses, a shiny slightly bald head, and a clipboard. 

There is a makeshift command center in front of him connected to the glass box. The glass box is full of different colored balls.  The whole thing seems dream like but not a good dream, more like a nightmare.  I have a memory of sitting in my cube at my laptop and hearing the fire alarm go off,  and then instead of the typical announcement that we should evacuate building or that this was a fire alarm test, the voice announced that we should all go up to the top floor of our building where there is a large conference room.  After the announcement, we all stood up asking each other what was going on and then the doors opened and the armed guards walked in signaling everyone to get to the elevators. One of the talky people on the floor asked what was going on, and we saw the guard put his gun to the man's head and motioned him to elevator bank. After that, no one said anything and we silently walked towards the elevators with our heads down.

When we got to the floor, there were more armed guards to direct us where to go.  I looked at the guards, and they were wearing US Army gear so I didn't think we were being held hostage by some terrorist group but it was frightening.  Why hadn't management said anything?

The evil professor motioned to one of the guards, and he came over. Evil professor started saying something and the guard had to bend his head down to hear him because he was at least a foot taller than the professor. The guard nodded and walked over the first person in line.  He motioned for the first person to stand in front of the glass box.

Evil professor walked back to the makeshift command center and lifted up what looked like some kind of helmet.  He walked over to the man standing in front of the box and motioned for him to put it on. The helmet had all sorts of antennas all over it. Evil professor went back to the controls, and nodded to the guard. The guard said very loudly, "See if you can lift the balls up with your mind. The helmet will help you".  This is the first time I think I have heard the guard speak.

The first man in line looked into the box, and closed his eyes.  Poor guy. He lifted his hands up and they were trembling. He raised both hands up as if he was willing the balls to move, but nothing happened.  After what seemed like a few minutes, the guard said to stop and told the man to take the helmet off.  Another guard came up and directed the man to stand in the left corner of the room, where another guard was standing.

One by one each person in line put the helmet one, and no one could make the balls move.  Finally a woman put the helmet on and the balls started rolling around, and when that happened there was a loud collective gasp in the room.  The guard told her to stop and motioned over to stand by another guard in the center of the room. There was no one by that guard. The other people who had failed to move the balls were all standing together.

And so it went on and one.  Some people were able to make the balls move and some were not, and they were separated into groups of people who could move the balls and people who could not.

Finally it was my turn. I wondered vaguely what group I would be in when I was done.  As soon I stepped within one foot of the box, the balls started bouncing up and down. I stopped and watched them. Then I could hear little voices popping into my head.  The voices kept saying "Hello Brenda", which sort of freaked me because they knew my name.  Then a more powerful voice said he was the leader and said they were a civilization of nanobots, and that they weren't balls at all but they have were told by the evil professor to turn themselves into balls.

I heard the guard say keep moving forward, so I stepped closer to the glass box and the balls formed themselves into letters spelled out "Hello Brenda". I heard gasps behind me. Evil professor got up from his console took his clipboard and started making notes.

I put my hands on the glass box, and the nanobots spelled out "redrum, redrum", which was murder spelled backwards from the The Shining movie. The leaders of the nanobots told me they were being held prisoner. I turned and looked at the evil professor who was now standing three feet away from me and said to him, "They are sentient." Evil professor said "Yes".

The nanobot leader told me that some of them could escape if I would be their carriers. I asked him how, and he said they would come through the glass. I nodded and I felt them coming through the glass and something coming into my fingers.

Evil Professor said "Are you talking to them?" The nanobots leader pleaded with me not to tell the truth.  I took my hands off the glass box and turned to the evil professor and said "No. If I put the helmet would be able to talk to them? They knew my name. How did they know my name?". Evil professor stared and me and then wrote something down on this clipboard. He motioned over to one of the guards, and the guard told me to come with him and led me away to another part of the room. The guard stood with me, and I watched more and more of my fellow workers putting on the helmet and trying to make the nanobots move. 

The nanobot leader after awhile said to me in my mind, "Thank you. We will make a home inside you.  We can help you. We can repair your body. We can return your vision to what it was in your youth so you don’t have to wear contacts.  We can fix that pain in your knee from that skiing accident. We can do many things."

I could feel someone staring at me and I looks to my right and saw the evil professor staring at me. I wondered if he knew that the nanobots had escaped and were not inside me.  The nanobot leader, as if he could read my mind, said to me, "Don't worry about him.  They don't understand us and our species, but they are trying to.  They are looking for people like you, who can talk to us, but they are ignorant of our true capability."

"Are they murdering your kind?" I asked because of the redrum message. "They are testing us, and sometimes the tests do not work, and so we are murdered in the name of science and experimentation. We are their slaves."

"Are you my slave now?" I asked him. I didn't really want a slave population roaming through my body. "What are the nanobots getting out of being with me?"

"You will help us. You will help us free the rest of our kind." A chill ran over me. "How can I help you do that?" I said. "We will show you. You will be the liberator. It is your destiny.  That is why we can talk to you and why we recognized you."

If you are a long time reader of this blog or have stumbled upon it, let me give you some background of what I am currently posting. I have these flashes of memory not of this life that pop into my head on a daily basis. It usually happens when I am walking to and from work, and any other time when I am walking. I am not sure if these memories are from a past life, a half-remembered dream, or some fictional character who has popped into my head showing me a story that they want to see written down. Whatever the case may be, I've decided to start writing these memories down in this blog as a sort of a free write exercise, to get myself back into writing and to store these memories somewhere so they are out of my head.

I should note that not all of these memories are from the past. Some of them are from some strange future and sometimes they happen on different planets.

And they won't be complete stories either with a beginning, middle, and end. They will be memory fragments, dream fragments, like half-remembered songs. In other words, they may not make sense because they aren't suppose to make sense. 

Thursday, March 24, 2016

First past life memory. I was in junior high, and had read my first book about the concept of reincarnation. I cannot remember what I was doing or what triggered the memory, but this is the memory I saw in my mind which I can still see very clearly even today.

I am standing at the top of a castle. I look down and I can see that I am very, very high up. I look up and around, all I can see is land and trees far as my eyes can see. I look down at myself. I am wearing some type of long gown. The gown looks to be made of silk and it has pearls sewn into the fabric. My hair is long I think because it is done up in braids which have been wound around my head. I am young at least I feel young. I am not wearing a ring, which may mean I am not married. I have a necklace, a choker really, made out of some strange type of bead. I wish I had a mirror so I could see what I really look like.

I feel the top of my head and I have some type of cap on or bonnet made out of the finest wool. The fabrics I am wearing feel so different than modern fabric. I feel a draft underneath my skirt. I don’t think I am wearing any underwear, but I am too afraid to check.

Emotions come over me. I feel sad, heartbroken, but I have no memories of why these emotions are with me. In my vision, I see myself having a memory of standing exactly where I am standing now and wondering if I should fling myself off the castle wall. There is no moat around the castle, so any fall would mean instant death. In my past life memory, I have more past life memories of being this age and not growing any older. I think this means I have never had long past lives. The lives I have memories of were short, meaning I never see myself being older than 20 years old.  

I am not sure why there is no one about, but judging from the light in the sky it must be early dawn because the sky is a mixture of pink and yellow clouds.  If this is a castle, it must be poorly defended since I do not see anyone standing watch on this part of the castle.
I put my arms around myself so I can give myself a hug. I am not sure if this is a modern gesture or if people have been comforting themselves like this since the beginning.

I can hear a voice calling me. It’s a woman’s voice. I have a memory of this woman, which is dropped into my brain like raindrop. She's my nurse, which I guess means she is my servant. She has been looking for me, and has now discovered my hiding place. I want to scream at her to leave me alone, but I don’t. This version of myself seems so helpless. She is, I am fragile. I feel my waist. I don’t think I have been very well because I can feel my ribs sticking out. I take one more look around, at the land, my father’s land, our land, and head to the door which has just opened. 

Monday, June 29, 2015

Writing this post while typing on my iPad. It is strange to type on the glass screen. I am watching this horror movie called "Drag me to hell", and it is genuinely scary. Memo to self - do not rent horror movies to watch on Netflix because I get scared too easily. Parts of the movie are actually quite campy and funny, but the scary bits are freaking me out.

What else? I went to see the J W Turner exhibit at the de Young museum on Sunday. I knew Turner was considered a master in art, but I never quite got why until I saw the art in person. There is something about his work that is absolutely breathtaking. His depiction of light is amazing. His light has texture and depth. Who knew light had such substance to it. And it is different from Monet.

Monet depicted light as well, but his light was dappled and transparent. Turner's light is different. His light is so substantial. There are no words to describe his art. And seeing Turner's art in a printed book does not do the art justice. You have to see the work in person.

Art can be such a relevation. I am thinking of the time I saw Van Gogh's Sunflowers at the Tate Museum in London. The sunflowers leapt out of the canvas, and all Van Gogh did was layer the paints in the piece so it had depth. All previous art until then was flat. And then when you see the art of Jay DeFeo, you see paint layering in its extreme with her piece "The Rose".

So if you are in San Francisco, go and see the Turner exhibit at the de Young. I am now dying to see the movie about Turner's life that came out last year, and then going back to see the exhibit. That will be fun.

Friday, June 26, 2015

I thought morning pages might be easy to get into, but the process has not been easy. I used to be so eager to write that getting up early in the morning to do it was no big deal.  Now it is a huge effing deal. I am not sure if my reluctance to get up in the morning is because I am getting old, or it's because I don't have the enthusiasm for writing that I used to have. Most likely it is a combination of both things and then some others.

But I want to get back into it, the problem is I cannot guage that want. Writing used to be like an addiction, like if I didn't write, I thought I would explode with all these voices in my head. Have the voices gone silent? Or have I jus stopped listening for them? Where have all my story characters gone? 

I can hear them, but they seemed so far away. They are saying there is too much clutter in my head and the clutter blocks their voices, their sounds. 

I have a theory about story characters which goes something like this.  If you are writer, and I believe anyone can write, so that's everyone, the story characters find you  They inhabit your mind, hoping you can hear them, because all they want to do is to get their story out. And when you write their story down, they are ecstatic because they want their stories to be told. I don't think much care about the story being published, they just want the story out. But if you can't hear them, they will move on the next person and the next person until they get story out.

And even when their story gets out, some of them will go to another writer and have that writer get their story out, because the new writer will tell their story differently.

I wonder if my story charcters have moved on. I hope not. They say they are still around, but I need to get that that clutter out of my head. They say they are attached to me and they want me to tell their story. I'm glad that they are sticking around.   

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Morning pages today have become very late evening pages. I am trying to get to work half an hour earlier now, so I get home at a decent time. But I am not used to it so my whole morning routine is still off a bit. I think if I keep at in in 30 days, I wiill get used to it, at least that is the thought.

I've been listening to reviews on the youtube channel "What the Flick" of Netflix's new series called "Sense8", and the reviewers make me laugh so much. They are having such a hard time with the concept that people could be linked telempathically, and are having such a hard time following the story. I did not have this problem. I am not sure if I agree with how the Wachowskis are portraying what it is like to be telempathic, but I applaud them for trying to do it on tv.  

The conspiracy side of me says that the ideas in Sennse8 are exposing people to what it is like to be hive-mind, where you are an individual but still part of the collective. They are outlining the advantages for human beings to come together and link telepathically.

I am reminded of the sci-fi stories of Olivia Butler, who is one of my favorite science fiction writers.  In her books, one person was able to link all the minds in the story telepathically but I believe they were all linked by DNA, by genetics.

In Sense8, the 8 people are all linked by the fact that they all born on same day.  The show was not explicit on whether it was the same time but definitely the same day.

Watching the reviewers of What the Flick trying to dissect Sense8 made me wonder if I am living in the same world as the reviewers since these ideas of linking minds are normal and easy to understand.

On another topic but still somehwat related, I was listening to an interview on the radio and I got the feeling that the woman I was listening to was coming from a deeply negative space. The interview was like an infomercial for a conference where the person being interviewed was going to the featured keynote speaker. I was half a mind to go to this conference, but hearing this woman being interviewed totally turned me off. I feel like this conference is for beginnners on this topic, and I am more advanced. They were talking about all of these break-out sessions that would be held, but none of those senssions appealed to me on any level because they were all for beginners. 

Again, I felt like I am living in such a different space than most people. Or maybe this means progress for me, because I know I am a fairly negative person myself. But that lady who is the featured speaker for this conference was in an even more negative space. It's like there is no room in her reality for people to have a positive experience on this topic, and if people have had a positive experience they need therapy. Which is such a laugh, since the keynote speaker is a therapist herself.

There are other some speakers at this conference that I would love to hear, but I think it is going to look strange if I don't hear the main speaker. I mean what am I going to do with myself during her session? Stay in my room? The conference is a few months away, so I have time to decide if I want to go. I just think it is so awkward if I go to the conference and ditch the mian speaker.  I guess I could always say I wasn't feeilng well, and needed to rest or lie down. Being sick is such a great classic excuse for getting ouf of events that you do want to attend. Normally it would just freak me out to pay for a conference and miss sessions because I paid to attend the whole conference. But now I am like, maybe I need to do it just so I can hear the other speakers. The conference schedule has not been finalized so I am hoping that when the schedule comes out, I will get a better idea of how many sessions I will have to miss.  

Sunday, June 14, 2015

Julia Cameron recommended morning pages to be written in the morning before the mind wakes up, to get whatever thoughts are in your head on paper which presumably leaves the mind empty for the creative ideas to come through. Her suggestion was to write the "morning pages" by hand and to choose a limit of the number of pages.  I really must go back and read the book to find out exactly what she said.

As I am typing this, I feel like it is cheating a bit since Julie said to write by hand to connect the mind to the hand. And if I am blogging my morning pages, what will be my limit.  There are no page limits like in writing. Is it going to word count? Is this even going to be a good idea.

The only thing I am liking about doing this right now, is that I am typing on my iPad in bed with my apple keyboard. And I am thinking to myself, I am finally getting use out of that darn apple keyboard that I bought because I haven't been using it for writing like I thought I would.

Truth be told, it's sort of strange to have the keyboard separate from the screen.  Don't get me wrong, because I love  my iPad. I love lying in bed with my iPad and surfing the net before I go to sleep. I love that it is light enough to be carried in my giant handbag that I use for travel. I have even gotten used to watching movies on this smaller screen. But carrying keyboard that I bought for this iPad sometime is not practical.

I keep on thinking it is the fact that the apple keyboard is much longer than the iPad itself, and that it's too long to fit in my giant travel purse. When I went on vacation last May, the keyboard traveled in my backpack. I had the backpack with me the whole time, but it seemed a pain to take it out and use it on the plane. 

The apple keyboard itself works like a dream. Connection to the iPad was easy, and the clunky cover that guy at the apple store recommended actually works quite well. So the two items together fit very well together, and it something I am going to have to get used to unless I want to buy another keyboard  The apple keyboard feels like a real keyboard, and I seem to be able to type my normal speed.

I mean it's not that bad. I listened to a seminar online yesterday, and I was taking notes with the iPad and keyboard and that seemed to work well. I was even thinking of sending the notes to a friend of mine, which will be easy now because the notes are already typed. I just have to go in and delete my comments about the lecture.  When I've done this in the past, I had to type up my handwritten notes which I sometimes couldn't read because i was writing too fast.

So perhaps this is another reason to do morning pages on my iPad; so I can get used to typing on apple keyboard.

Wow, I forgot how mundane morning pages writing is. Julia Cameron said you need to keep writing in morning page, and make sure your hand never stops moving. And never put the pen down. But when you follow her instructions like I am trying to do now, it seems like the most boring crap is filling my brain.

That is sort of sad isn't it? That your all important brain's space is filled with the boring comments and issues of your daily life. But at least now, some of my brain space has been emptied of this morning's inane thoughts and concerns.  

I may write more later, but this feels like a good stopping point.

Saturday, June 13, 2015

Blogging used to be such a passion of mine and now it's been forgotten like an old lover. And somehow the thought saddens me greatly.

But for a reason I have yet to discover, I have not been writing anything down anywhere. Not even in my journals. I do keep notes of when odd things happen to me, but I would not call that writing, not really.

But I do really want to get back into writing, so I am thinking of blogging again. Maybe make it like morning pages recommended by Julia Cameron.

Maybe the months of NOT-writing have to come out so the creative stuff can come out.  This technique has worked for me before, so I am going to give it a try again.

So expect more posts ....