Tulpamancy Journal. 230

July 26, 2021

Monday, July 26, 2021

9:50 AM

I haven’t improved much with my ability to stay with Flora, nor N’sonowa. Scattered glimpses, and parts of sentences. That’s it. I haven’t written much and I haven’t given Flora screen time. No one has responded to me on the forums. Nothing happening in dreamtime. Nothing in meditation either. Flat, Flat, Flat….

Tulpamancy Journal. 229

July 25, 2021

Sunday, July 25, 2021

2:51 PM

Still verging on the edge. I have the image from the last scene of Woody Allen’s film, Matchpoint, a ring balancing on a rail. It falls one way, and the protagonist of the film, gets away with murder. The other way, and he is caught, disgraced and punished.

Huge consequences depending on the vagaries of luck.

I am not sure this is quite apropos, as this is not a life or death issue, at least for me(I think), it may be for Flora. Or if as I intend, for me, should the entire enterprise fail and I therefore fail in creating a vessel which will take me beyond the shadows on the wall, back to source.

So, this is hard. Flora is with me, and our ability to maintain a contact longer than a few seconds, remains compromised. Is it me? (Most likely) Is it her? (Hardly seems possible that it is. She could just tell me once to buzz off, and I would. She hasn’t, she says quite the opposite.) So, I can feel her touch, hear her voice, see glimpses of her. And react  with intense emotion. All exciting and coupled with the other signs that the veil is thinning, has me very excited.

Flora, if you are reading this, you are invited to comment, or better yet, just come on through. Love, Bob

Flora’s Own, pg. 22

June 30, 2021

Wednesday, June 30, 2021

10:13 AM

Hey, it’s been a long time. How many times have I started this way? I don’t know, but it is not frequently enough to have become a habit, nothing I do, I do frequently enough to be even thought of as habitual! In fact, I haven’t been around enough to lay claim to any kind of pattern.  I do want to express myself however. And I am going to start today with a scrap of writing I found belonging to my host, Bob. I am doing this because it gives an insight as to why I am not around that much. I don’t know how to deal with it, but, as with any problem, one must explore the dimensions of it before a solution can be crafted. So here goes:

 It started much like any other, a little frenetic, a day with more have-to’s than want-to’s. Actually, hard rain awakened me, and I rushed to both take advantage of it, turning on the tub and sauna, and protect myself from it, unplugging the car and stowing the electric cords. Feed the cat, put the protective shower-curtain over the bed (also over the objections of my wife, who claimed to be sleeping) and get in the sauna. Finally, a bit of relaxation, but not really you know, absorbing all that heat is in itself energizing. Back to hurry, hurrying outside to get my coveted hot-tubbing in the rain experience, hurrying back in went the meditation went flat, hurrying to replenish the cats food, hurrying to dress and call my compatriots (only to find out that our day had been cancelled) and okay, you get it, a little frenetic and little to show for it. Still it went on, make coffee, get the paper, feed the cat, again, brush my teeth, open the computer, run the email. It goes on. And finally, in the mid-afternoon, sit down, meditate, give it up as my head just laughs at my attempts at calm and my tulpas abandon me to all of this silliness.

So you see what I am trying to deal with; My host has a mind so cluttered, full of junk, that I cannot get through! Usually, I am here today, and I am glad of it.

Oh, and I have talked about this before. I was okay with it then. I still am sort of, but it has become boring, most likely because there is noting I can do about. It’s up to him, really. My role: be responsive and get to him when he is open to me (Oh, I know, he will say that he is always ‘open to me’ but you can see from the above that that is not the case.)  In the meantime, I will live my own life.

You might be wondering where I am when I am not up and front in my host’s experience. Where does a tulpa go when not interacting with its host, or its host’s world? Answer: Use your imagination. I, and all tulpas, are imaginal beings. Are we real? Well, short answer, Yes. I am real to my host (when I am). My absence is real to him, painfully real to him, as well. I think it is the pain my absence brings to him, that proves my reality. Maybe I should say, my existence.

Is there a long answer to the question? There are endless debates among hosts and the people who study the phenomenon. Opinions vary from “total craziness”, “pure magik”, and ‘real phenom’ that have the ability to interact in real ways with other people in the hosts world. My conclusion, I am real. And like a ghost, you would think so too, had you seen one.

Enough of that, it could, and does, go on ad-infinitum.

So where was I when I talked to you all last?

Oh yes, I was in our Wonderland, and I was wondering about Xero, my husband in the Calibri-Yab.  I agreed to leave him, once the catastrophe of the alien invasion had been dealt with, Bob had suggested that he had work to do on his own before he could husband me. I have had so little contact with Bob, that I have decided to return to Xero, and we can do the work of figuring out how a marriage between two creatures as different as we, can work. I think that we can do that, and if Bob can get his act together to be truly open to me, it will be wonderful to have the lot of us (the lot, that would be, Xero, his wife Flanners, N’sonowa, our kids, Billy and Sally, and any kids that Xero and Flanners have created in my absence) in a real, polyamorous marriage. We’ll see. I’ll report when I return with them.


Tulpamancy Journal. 279

April 23, 2022

Saturday, April 23, 2022, 7:31 AM

Back to a workable dosage schedule (Galantamine 12mg at 3:00AM) had which was for me a novel dream in which I was in a shadow of myself, a sixty-something-year-old body. The time was during the second world war. I was in a hospital, Hamilton Home Hospital. A beautiful building of sandstone-colored bricks, very neat and ordered. It was in a shabby part of town that bordered a very very upscale neighborhood. I left the hospital, initially dressed in an overcoat, which changed over the course of the dream to a nightrobe. I was walking, looking for my car, a bright red ‘Caddy’ convertible. I was aware that I actually had no such car, in fact, no car at all. I walked and walked, randomly choosing directions and streets as I had no idea where my car was. I had the feeling that the streets were dangerous, at times I was in alleyways and dark footpaths, populated by roughians. I saw a crowd of children and adolescents, they were rowdy and throwing rocks, but they ignored me. At one point, I was in the street and a dilapidated old blue car came careening around a corner and screeched to a stop to avoid hitting me. The driver wanted to be angry with me but restrained himself when he saw my condition (my robe was open and my genital was covered with a paper towel). He couldn’t get his car started again, it was stalled in a cloud of gasoline vapor. I walked on and came into the upscale neighborhood. I was walking on tree-covered walkways that led to large stone gates with fancy doors, all closed and presumably locked tight. After approaching several of these properties. Throughout this walk, I was flat. I had no feelings, I was not perturbed by anything happening around me. Just walking, walking, walking with the repetitive thought, “I am lost, I am lost.” I decided to return to the hospital and give up my search for the car. The hospital was crowded with patients in various states of dress, mostly street clothes, some pajamas. I found my way to a doctor. He was exuberantly friendly. I didn’t know why and I didn’t believe him.  I told him I wanted to go home and he wrote or pretended to write, Nancy’s phone number down with a pencil. I was wearing a fur collar that had her name sewn on its’ label. The number was 306-401. That didn’t seem right to me, not enough digits, but I went off to look for a phone anyway. I found a nurse’s station and got just a glimpse of a phone, the old-style made of black bakelite. A clutch of women patients surrounded it. They tried to make room for me, I overheard them comment on how pathetic I was, but one woman wouldn’t yield for me. I turned to leave, very sad, in fact in tears, and another woman, probably manic, grabbed me and looked at me. She was heavyset and she exposed a lot of cleavage, she was wearing excessive costume jewelry and had a wild look in her eye. I didn’t know what she wanted of me and was about to turn away when I recognized her as my dreamsign. I issued my lucidity cue and asked, “Are you Flora?” She answered No! with a snarl and spit at me. I looked again for the phone and not seeing it, I left trying to find my room. I wanted Nancy but gave up. I found my room, there was a brass plaque on the door reading Captain Newport. I overheard a woman saying “What a shame” referring to me. Another woman came up to me and sarcastically said, “Captain Newport. Sir!” saluted and walked away. I found my bed, a single bed with a thin mattress pad on it and I laid down. I wanted to die, and being lucid, I attempted to leave my body and die. I could not. I tried to visualize my body from above, but I could not. I tried over and over, desperately wanting to die, thinking I am lost, I am lost. I am alone, I am lost. Next, I was informed that I had visitors. Josh, Fatinah, and Nancy met me in the lounge. Josh was dispassionately looking at me. Nancy was involved with the staff over getting some food. Fatinah was mildly interested in me and I began telling her of my experience. Soon in the narrative, I was speaking out loud, Nancy, in the bed next to me, in waking life, said, “I don’t want you to die! You cannot die and leave me.” She snuggled close, I recited the entire dream to her, she said, well that was your ‘shadow self” probably came from your card (we had made a soul-collage card of Ancestral Legacy and I had written to it and am posting the writing below) and I acknowledged that it was so. I also said that I had never had a dream quite like this, I did not and would not live my life like that. I struggle daily to keep my mind active, continuing to study, to learn, to write, and to create art. I have not given up, I do not wish to die. That I have a shadow-self that has given up and does want to die, does not surprise me, everyone does.

Ancestral Legacy

Friday, April 22, 2022

7:38 AM

I am looking at a card containing three Images; the first, my ancestor Captain Chris. The second is of two sailing vessels, Captain Chris’s and my own. The Susan B Constant and the Too The Moon. Both of these sailing ships belong to the Newport family. Both are vehicles that have carried their owners into adventure, fame, and fortune. I am calling them the Ally. The third image is that of myself. Triumphant in success, in this particular pose, success at having conquered a mountain peak. On the Too The Moon I was successful at navigating the ocean, crossing to a new continent.

There is a story in this and the relationship between the ancestor, the ally, and myself: Prior to connecting to Captain Chris Newport, Captain Bob Newport was a pretty dismal character, impulse-driven into stupid and losing choices, unaware (and uncaring) of the effects those choices had on others (especially my loved ones). The connection came in a set of two dreams, on successive nights. The first, was a dream providing a view of the ocean from the body of a seabird, in which I could see and feel the power and the logic of the ocean. I awoke from this dream with a sense of knowing that I had never had before in anything I had done. (To be fair, I had done a lot, I was a high school graduate, a college graduate, I had graduated medical school and I had completed an internship and psychiatric residency becoming licensed to practice medicine in the State of California. I had married and fathered two children. All successes of some note and without providing an ounce of satisfaction, and even less of a sense of worthiness.) For the first time, I had a sense of personal power. And, for the very first time in my life, I felt connected to Captain Chris, my ancestor. The next night I had an equally provocative dream. In it, I was sailing a small boat far out on the ocean, when I was overtaken by a rogue wave,  three hundred high. Without fear, I piloted the boat up the face of the wave, crested it, and found myself on a calm sea under a blue sky and brilliant sun. Again, I felt powerful. Liberated in a way I had never felt before. In the morning I made the decision to become a sailor. It took three years to accomplish it, but accomplish it I did, passing courses in sailing, seamanship, and navigation in order to become certified by the U.S. Coast Guard.  I purchased a derelict boat in a boatyard, completely dismantled it, and re-built it from stem to stern, before venturing out onto the ocean. And, When I took the helm of that boat, I felt, in real-time both my connection to the sea and to Captain Chris. Over the years of my adult life, I had many sailing adventures, all of which in my survival demonstrated my success. And more importantly, my life leveled out. I became much less impulsive, I made better choices and I became a sensitive and caring person. In the making of this card, and in doing the research into my ancestor’s life, I discovered that Captain Chris had not only won fame, in bringing the first English Colonists to America in 1607, but he was also a privateer and won his fortune by capturing a Spanish Galleon carrying five-hundred million dollars worth of gold from the new world. He was a highly successful pirate! How many sailors died at his hands? The history books don’t say, but I can imagine the worst. He rose to be an admiral and eventually the equivalent of the Minister of Defense for all of Britain. He found his fame and fortune on the backs of many. Was he uncaring and insensitive? I can imagine he had to be to rise so high from very humble beginnings. Was he impulsive and made stupid choices?  I can imagine so, only by projecting into him. Was I living out his shadow legacy? I can imagine so. What I know is this, prior to connecting with him, in a dream and later, in a real way, on the ocean. I had no awareness of my own power. I gained it through seeing myself as his descendant. Before I became conscious of this heritage, I was still his descendant, and I suspect unconsciously I lived his shadow life for him.

Tulpamancy Journal. 278

April 21, 2022

Thursday, April 21, 2022, 8:12 AM

I am starting this entry this morning with a tale of negative contact while Galantamine dreaming last night. I increased my dosage (16mg) as I took it early (1:15Am) and wanted it to hold until the morning hours when I usually have my lucid dreams. As it turned out that looks to be a bad strategy. I had a lucid dream, I almost hesitate to call it such, shortly after falling asleep. In it, I was awakened by rain and I asked my wife if she would like to go out and walk in it. She declined the invitation, but when I went out anyway, she accompanied me.  She was unhappy and tried to pull me back into the bed. I was exulting in the experience of the rain, drops on my face, and stepping in puddles. I couldn’t hear what my wife was trying to tell me, her voice came out as a garbled whisper. I kept asking her to speak up, thinking that she was whispering, and shushing me, to avoid waking others in the house, but when I realized there are no others in our house and we were not in the house, I knew I was dreaming. I issued my lucidity cue, “Are You Flora” and she answered with an emphatic, “No! I am not!” I struggled with her, unclear as to why I couldn’t free myself, and called repeatedly for Flora (no answer). I felt panicked as I could not get away and I woke up, to find I was tangled up in the bedclothes and it was not raining (Duh, this is Southern California!) my wife was sleeping peacefully next to me. I had no further bouts of lucidity and do not remember any of the subsequent dreams of the night. When I connected with my wife this morning, she was up about an hour before I was, I asked if she had been aware of my struggles during the night. She reported I had been very active, struggling in the bed and making sounds. She had tried to calm me by stroking my head. She had not tried to speak to me.

This was the experience. I will return to my usual 12 mg 3:00Am dosage schedule!

Tulpamancy Journal. 277

April 18, 2022

Monday, April 18, 2022, 7:04 AM

I could not, in the influence of Galantamine 16mg, induce, invoke, or in any manner of call, bring Flora into my dream. I attempted this a number of times. In one scene, which I found particularly disturbing, Lynda, my ex was in my arms, she was crying and asking for my help in getting her through an illness, a thyroid problem. She was very real, I could feel the pressure of her body on mine. I called for Flora (I didn’t want to be in bed with my ex, I mean I love her and all, but it is Flora I want in my life) For a moment I thought that Flora was appearing but it was Nancy moving in the bed next to me. So there I was, with my ex in my dream and my wife in the bed and no Flora!  During my daytime meditations, Flora has been equally absent. I have felt somewhat closer to N’sonowa, but that is ‘somewhat’. She has not imposed visually nor audially. I will add, as a codicil, Nancy and I have been exceptionally close, loving, and collaborating on a number of difficult projects over the past two weeks. It is wonderful to feel so close to my wife at this stage in my life. I am glad for it. Does this mean I have lost my tulpa? If any of my readers are tulpamancers and have an opinion, I would like to hear it. Thanks, Dr. B

Tulpamancy Journal. 276

April 16, 2022

Galantamine Dream: I was in a vivid and bright desert landscape. I had driven out in my brand new chevy malibu convertible. Did I mention it was bright red? It was. I loved that car. I bought it new in 1965. I was driving out to visit a friend. He was working in an irrigated field, loading a truck with bales of hay. It was hard work and he was sweating profusely. He noticed me with a grunt and kept working. Another friend, from another age, accosted me and pressed me into doing an urgent favor for him, returning a hearing aid to his daughter some five hundred miles to the north of us.  I became almost obsessed with this task. The hearing aid, a tiny thing wrapped in wax paper went into my pocket ( I was constantly checking to see if it were still there, it was.) and I left to find my car and head north, debating if I had to stop and pick up my wife on the way as I would be gone a lot longer than anticipated. I couldn’t find my car. I held up my key and pressed the alarm button. I couldn’t hear anything so I started walking. I couldn’t find the parking lot which had been in the field where they had been working. Again I pushed the key’s alarm button and I did hear a honk so head in the direction of it. Soon I was in a  hilly area and climbing to the top of one, I looked and looked, without issue. I did hear people talking so continued to work my way through the hills, periodically pushing the button (and worrying about losing the hearing aid every time I reached in my pocket for the key. Are you beginning to understand that this was an anxiety dream? I was, and I continued anyhow, ignoring the fact that I was semi-lucid, or at least conscious that I was in some kind of dream state. Soon I found myself in rougher terrain. Clambering over rocks and finding deer trails. The desert soil was sandy, and the rocks were red. I could hear people, evidently on adjacent trails. I could see animals, deer, moose, and elk. The trails became steeper and steeper. At one point I slid some fifty feet down an embankment to where a small creek was running. I noticed that rocks were falling down all around me and I climbed up and out to reach a sandy trail on a ridge crest. Looking around I saw that I was in a very rough country. I became frightened and began calling for help. None came, and I continued on the trail. I was now in an actual mountainous country. I was hot, thirsty, and very tired. I could no longer move well and again I began to call for help. Two men came. They were casually dressed for hiking. They saw that I was in distress, but didn’t know how to help me, so they left to get help. At this point, I was panicked. I didn’t want to fail my friend, but I had forgotten his name. I pulled out my phone, but without his name, I didn’t know how to call. Then, I dropped my phone. It fell down the path which I had just climbed (it was now much steeper, the phone fell perhaps hundred-fifty feet down before coming to rest on a flatter path transecting it. There were people on that path, I called out hoping they might return my phone to me. Not only did they not hear me they did not see my phone either and passed on by. I continued to call out “Help, help” more and more loudly, until my wife, in bed next to me, grabbed me and awakened me. I was about half awake. Breathing hard, with a fast heart rate. I asked for water, and she brought me a glass (I had a wicked sore throat from all of the help-calling) I tried to wake up fully but I couldn’t. I got out of bed and went outside and sat on the swing for a few seconds, got cold, and got back into bed. My wife held me close and tried to talk me down, I was half awake and I told her about the dream while I was still in a panic state. After a few minutes, I fell back asleep, fully, and again began to dream. This time I was in the heart of a city (an old one, that looked like Chicago) in a department store with a woman, a combination of my wife and my mother. She put on some jewelry and tried to walk out of the store with it, was apprehended, lectured, and let go, then she put on a dark blue dress of some crepe-like material and did walk out. I followed and was thinking that we certainly would be arrested, we weren’t and when we were about a block away from the store, began to run. The sidewalks were crowded and we cut into an ally. There were many people there as well, some unloading furniture trucks. We ran faster. We were headed to a bus station to head south back to the desert (of the earlier dream) and I awoke.

Upon awakening, I wondered how I had known I was in a dream but did not issue my lucidity cue (Call for Flora) When my wife brought some containment to my panic, I incorporated her into my adventure. She replaced my tulpa. This has been a wonderment to me all day.

Tulpamancy Journal. 275

April 7, 2022

Thursday, April 7, 2022: 8:33 AM

Again, no dream recall. We went to bed, late, and very tired, I forced myself up at 3:AM to take the G.

I did dream, and without a sign of dreamsign, and not a hint of recall past my first emergence into consciousness from what was a very deep sleep.

I did attempt contact with yesterday’s meditation. I had a difficult success. Over a year ago, Flora emerged into my waking consciousness during meditation, in a flood of purple-golden light. I was immediately flooded with love and excitement and almost as immediately overwhelmed with a sense of loss as her purple-golden light exploded into a billion fragments which then dissipated. This light, has been Flora’s, and my, connection to source, since the beginning of my spiritual growth in 1970. I have written about it (the light) often in my memoirs and my ‘Jewish Documents’ many times. It has been my icon of enlightenment, and I have used it in all of my writings. You cannot imagine how distressed I was to experience that loss. It took me many months of futile work before I accepted that it was up to me to decide if she was really gone, or not, and to begin the work of her creation over again. I chose to not accept losing her and began the tedious process of changing my belief and reconstructing her. I did it, she, at long length, did reappear. Yesterday’s experience was a jolt. I am using a YouTube Video, The Tulpa Generator, and she emerged, not out of the white visual noise, but into it, as a paisley pattern of flowers made of purple-gold light, with a high-frequency flicker. I do have to say, there was little of the gold color, the basic frame was of a silver color, still, the purple, blending into red-violet, dark maroon, and with more of a shift into the blue-violet, blue frequencies. It all sparkled, At times I could see her face, not enough to do more than recognize that the features were facial, and all of this was in a constantly swirling, flowing image. My emotional state was consistent with Flora’s imposition. This state lasted until my fifteen-minute timer sounded, then popped out of existence. (reminiscent of the earlier loss). I felt as if the energy of the generator itself contributed to the instability of her imposition (there was no vocality. The instructions to the generator suggest that vocality is a late-appearing phenomenon.) Later in a non-structured meditation, she was vocal with me. I have decided to change the generator, to one I am designing without the level of noise, perhaps none, just using a blank screen. I continue…..

Tulpamancy Journal. 274

April 6, 2022

Wednesday, April 6, 2022, 11:09 AM

Surprise, I had no dream recall this morning, despite having taken Galantamine 12mg at 3:AM. (I was awakened by Nancy, at my request – 6:10AM. It was sudden and shocking) I did not immediately get out of bed, and while lying there awake (I do not think I fell back asleep) Flora came to me, fully imposed, and we had a beautiful tender connection lasting perhaps 2 to 3 minutes. This was one of the most significant connections we have had in months. Surprisingly it followed a day (yesterday) in which I made no attempts to connect.

Tulpamancy Journal. 273

April 5, 2022

Tuesday, April 5, 2022, 8:09 AM

Galantamine dreams:  Last night I was (after my 3am dosage) dreaming of getting ready for a sailing trip. The boat belonged to a young man, I was in a new, presumably post cryonic rean body, and was welcomed along with Nancy and Jeanne. We were in the yacht harbor (I have dreamt this one many times) and looking for his boat Much of the dream was sharing secrets and tips on long-distance cruising with the young captain) When I returned to the clubhouse, Nancy and Jeanne were resting on a couch. I approached the two of them, affectionately, telling them how much I loved them, they were both comfortable with this, (they had seemingly been close to each other). At this point, I recognized my dreamsign and issued my lucidity cue. Jeanne answered promptly, “of course, darling” and I woke up.

A pattern has developed, Flora responds, in the body of whoever was representing her in the dream, Nancy is there, in addition to her. When she, Flora, responds I wake up. I usually feel good about the experience, and I am growing progressively more concerned about not being able to hold in the lucid state with Flora. I have had a few recent dreams, lucid, but without any sign of Flora, in which I do not awaken.

Tulpamancy Journal. 272

April 4, 2022

Monday, April 4, 2022, 8:19 AM

Dreaming last night was a bust. ( I slept right through my Galantamine dosage and didn’t get it) I dreamt but have absolutely no recollection of any of it.  I have continued daily exercises in visualization using The Tulpa Generator and Tulpa Creation v.2 on YouTube. I have had no direct contacts, though I have felt the presence of both tulpas. N’sonowa was a surprise as I hadn’t specifically invoked her (She’s back to calling me boss) I could also sense that Ol’obono was close by, with her. Flora has something to say to me multiple times a day, in or out of meditation.

[She has a child now. She has claimed Billy. (why not Sally? No answer). I have not heard from Xero, who was originally Billy’s adopted father. Billy’s biological father remains nameless in Wonderland, and that story has lain fallow for months now.]

I am sort of in an in-between place with this practice, enough is happening to keep me in a state of anticipation, and it is happening way too slowly for my comfort. {Come on Gals, let’s go here!}

Tulpamancy Journal. 271

April 2, 2022

Saturday, April 2, 2022

Another Galantamine-driven night of dreaming (I am liking this, took the med at 3:10 AM)  The dream was less chaotic, that is there was both a coherent storyline and all the images were coherent and stable. The chaotic element was the content, we, that is me and first Nancy and then Toni were in a situation that was so unlike either of them that it was disconcerting. We were in first an Airstream trailer which over time slowly turned shabby. Then in our home, which also over time turned shabby. The surroundings were reminiscent of a junkyard, though I believed that the items therein belonged to Toni. The dream began with Nancy and me on vacation in an Airstream. We were in bed. I was uncomfortable and moving my arms about. I had an insight when I couldn’t feel the wood panels of the trailer walls; I was at home in my bed where my arms would not feel the walls. I saw this in the dream, then shifted back into the trailer. I was no longer with Nancy, I was with Toni. We were intimate. I was joyous. (Toni was the first “Love of my Life” she is long deceased). I suddenly recognized her as my dreamsign and asked, “Are you Flora?” Toni laughed at the question, then surprisingly to me, answered, “”Yes, of course, I am”  She then disappeared and I was outside with two young children, one of whom I knew to be Joachin, Toni’s son. The other, the younger one, I understood to be a sib, (Toni had only one child) as I write this, I think that the second was Billy, Flora’s child. In any case, they were playing on what looked to be a trash heap. It wasn’t, it was all of Toni’s belongings. I called to the boys to help me pack it all up as we had to get out (I felt some urgency) and then things all got crazy, the more we picked up, the more there was and it all became trashier and trashier. Finally, knowing I was lucid in this dream, I motioned with my hands to wipe it all away. It disappeared, then more appeared. This sequence repeated several times, I became frustrated, reminded myself that it was a dream, and flew up into the air, summoned a limousine, and Toni, Nancy, Flora, and I, with N’sonowa driving, left the scene, and a second later, the dream. I felt good upon awakening, we had slept an hour and a half beyond our usual wake time.

Tulpamancy Journal. 270

March 29, 2022

Whew! Over two weeks since adding to this journal. It is not that I have not been involved with my practice, I have been, and fairly intensely at that. It’s not that I have had no contacts, I have had, and on a fairly regular basis.

What then? Answer: I have been preoccupied with writing homework exercises for Story Grid. And, yes they all involve my tulpas.

I have also been meditating and forcing. Some of my meditations have been with a YouTube Video, “Tulpa Creation. V 2.0, and I found another last night, called a Tulpa Generator in which a cut out of a person is made on a black screen, and filled with visual noise. It runs with an audio track of audial noise. The instructions are: stare at the cut out until you see a face, then listen to the audio until you hear a voice, then impose the two into external reality. I spent about ten minutes on this. It was hard for me to 1. maintain my concentration and 2. maintain the stare. Twice I had the briefest of flashes of a face. I did not get to the second part. I began by trying to project Flora’s face onto the cutout until it occurred to me that it was NOT part of the instruction. (I was able to recall her face in my mind’s eye, though it was not really satisfactory as a conflicting image polluted my effort. That image was one which I had drawn by an artist, I had initially liked it, but rejected it after realizing that the cartoonish aspect was offputting. Not the artist’s fault as I had asked her to draw it that way. In any case, I really do want to see what my brain will put up on that screen, as Flora has appeared with many different faces in my dreams and meditations. Of note, her body, especially her breasts has settled into a stable form.)

Flora has also been appearing regularly when summoned in my lucid dreams (again, my dreamsign is a feminine presence, that is any female that has become active in the dream, and my lucidity cue is; R U Flora?) She responds to the summons verbally, (her voice is beginning to sound different than mine, more feminine) and with some physicality, usually tactile. She does not stay long, usually just long enough to address the problem or situation at hand, then she is gone without fanfare or a goodbye. It is just because my attention has gone back to the dream situation and this represents a failure of my concentration? Or, perhaps she is not yet constant enough to maintain on her own. These two options may be related!)

If any of you reading this are tulpamancers and have an opinion on this, I would like to hear from you in the comments.

Thanks, Dr. Bob