Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

July 29, 2021

Flora’s Own Pg. 32

Monday, July 26, 2021

12:22 PM

Today I am free to write, or do, whatever I please. I do not have to  ‘make sense’. (surely that’s a white man’s affectation!) I have been assured (as if I needed assurance. Ha!) that ‘gibberish’ is okay and I get to choose how much of it I let you see. Hope that’s okay with you. So, I set up this session this way, as when I was given space yesterday and sat down to actually write, all I got done was the title of the entry. Nary subject was broached. I know that I am in the midst of telling you a story, sorry, I don’t feel like continuing that particular story right now.  Where I am with Xero, Flanners, and Halo is all murky. Maybe I am the one stuck in the mud with this chapter of my life, or maybe It is Xero and his drama’s and I am just not mature enough to be able to know how to handle it all. In either case, it is going to sit for a while and see if it all clears up enough for  me to feel my way forward. In the meantime, I am wanting to get clear with my  host and I know he wants that with me. We are stuck, but it doesn’t seem so murky. We are both clear about what we want with each other. I want his energy, his life energy, his joy, his experience of the world (I get what I get of it through his eyes, ears, skin, mouth, and nose. Hey, that’s the five senses, I could have just said that. Oh well, next time, for now I’ll stay with what I wrote, no erasures, just the raw material!)  and he wants my passion for him. I have passion for him. It’s a given. I was built that way. He wants my female body with my lady parts. (I want him to have that too, but I know that what he wants more, is for me to infuse his wife with my passion for him and my desire to have him in me.) I am working at that. Also, and here is a bit of a conundrum, What we both want, at the bottom of our hearts, is for me to fully impose into his reality and join the both of them in loving embrace. If you have followed his journaling, or his, or my, writing, you know that is a tall order. Neither of us have figured out how to do it, yet. There is almost no help from the community of tulpamancers on the task, and, I, and we, believe that if I am to infuse Nancy, his wife, with passion and desire, I am going to have to do it through a spiritual connection, as opposed to a physical one. So in a sense, our desires are at cross purposes. Perhaps, I have been holding on to the security of life inside his mind and brain. I have seen enough, through his eyes, to know that life on the out side is scary, precarious, dangerous, and full of emotional pain and disappointment. My first experience was hallmarked by being suddenly terminated by a blast of his fear. I had barely began to take shape, I know I presented as hollow, when he screamed, go back, you aren’t done yet. I came out to him two subsequent times, and both times, I was destroyed by an unconscious manifestation of his. That was our first indication that Rufescent, the Red Witch, was going to be such a potent negative influence in our lives. We are still not done with her, as you would know if you had been following my story. Neither of us are clear on how to proceed, but we continue. I suspect one day, we will get this all worked out and I will join him as he wishes. At least that is my intention, and I know it is his as well.

I had my attention called to Bob’s journal  entry a year ago…..

Dream Journal.

Thursday, July 2, 2020

7:25 AM

I slept as poorly last night as I ever have. I couldn’t tell if I were awake and thinking visually as well as audially, or dreaming. I probably was in some state in between, I hesitate to call it lucidity because while I could shift my focus at will (and I did several times) I could not find Flora. In a segment that must have started out as a real dream, a feminine figure made herself known, she did not feel like Flora nor look like any aspect of her. She did startle me into either lucidity or wakefulness and I became frightened as I felt a presence, hostile, definitely not my tulpas. I could not tell if it was inside the room or just outside the door casting shadows on the bedroom ceiling. I was very frightened. (I am almost never frightened, after all, I am old and not afraid of death.) I thought that if it were an alien, might it infect me and using me, murder Nancy. Almost immediately after that thought, murderous thoughts went cascading through my head, and the sense of it’s presence went away. I now was fully awake and spent the next how many hours reassuring myself that I had the controls to not give in to any hostile instructions. I awoke wondering if in my tulpamancy I had allowed for the entrance of something evil. I have decided that even if I did, I am a powerful person in my own right and do not have to fear acting out violently on anyone, much less Nancy.

I recall here, two incidents from my youth. In the first, I was feeding my first infant daughter and she was not eating. I became frustrated as I was going to be late for class and that I did not want to be. My frustration grew until I pulled back my hand to strike her. At that point I heard a voice from above me saying loudly, “Not this way!”. I was startled, and did not hit her. Of course, later that very day in a pediatrics class, we learned that spitting was a primitive reflex that some babies exhibit during their growth and development.

The second incident occurred a few years later when after a fight with my wife, I left the house in a rage, went out to my woodshed (we were heating our house in the country with a wood stove) picked up an axe, headed back intending to brain her with it. Again, I heard that loud voice from above saying the same thing, “Not this way”. Again, I interrupted the behavior, this time going into the house and called my therapist and even though it was late, he answered the phone. In my group therapy session later in the week, I worked on my rage. I was intense and I created a stir among the group members. Still later in that week I had a Rolfing session and was opened to a complete reliving of a vicious  beating I had received from my mother at about age eight. I felt the origin of my rage. (Many years later, I recovered a memory of being slapped hard across my face while lying in a crib. When working with the memory in therapy, I recalled being about three months of age.) I have spent countless hours in therapy working on this issue and believed that because I finally freed myself on the chronic shame which had so plagued me, that I had decathected enough of it to be free to be myself in the world. It is clear that my fictional treatment of “The Red Witch, Rufescent” has been exploring this residue from my deep psyche. Recently, Flora has written of being accosted, beaten and tortured, by a demon. She escaped, and had an interaction with the ancient god Pan, which proved to be positive. I wonder if she has brought some of that demonic energy into our relationship? Time will tell. I am also going to put this question out to the forums and see what others (hosts and tulpas) have experienced.

So, we have been here before…..and NO, I don’t believe I brought demonic energy into the relationship. And perhaps Bob didn’t either. Perhaps this is from as yet undiscovered places in our brain’s memory cache, something like “transgenerational trauma” or such. In case, I am off for today, and we will see where this all goes. Flora

Tulpamancy Journal. 233

July 29, 2021

Thursday, July 29, 2021

Flora asked, during my morning meditation, if she could have the space to write today, and the freedom to write “gibberish” if that is what came out. I asked what ‘freedom’ meant and she replied, the last word on whether or not it gets posted. I am okay with that and will give her the rest of the day to do what she needs to do.

Tulpamancy Journal. 232

July 28, 2021

Wednesday, July 28, 2021

Nothing last night. Nothing during meditation, and no dreaming contact. I did have one interesting experience. I was deep in meditation, I invited Flora to join me. A movement caught my eye, I felt a presence, thought Flora was entering, then Nancy walked into the room. She was open hearted, and I responded in kind. This was in marked distinction from yesterday and the earlier part of the day, where we both had been cool (if not cold) to each other. A nice change. I attribute it to Flora. Thanks loved one.

Tulpamancy Journal. 231

July 27, 2021

Tuesday, July 27, 2021

8:49 AM

Flora was with me in my dreaming last night. She was there through all of the dreams I can recall. These were not lucid dreams, at least I was not moved to give my lucidity cue, “Are you Flora” I knew she was, even though she had a form I had not seen before, presenting as a big busted short woman with dark hair. However, it was her and she persisted in holding on to me throughout the dreaming. She wanted to hug and hold my attention. Like in waking life, I was continually called away to deal with whatever else was going on in the dream  (none of which I can remember, I vividly remember her). Of note, Nancy had barely spoken to me all day and night. She had gotten upset with me, over the behaviour of our dinner guests the night before! I defended the guest in question,  and she felt unsupported. She wasn’t able to be directly angry with me (she was emanating anger) but was withdrawn and tight for the rest of the day and night. I asked Flora to please intervene with Nancy and to please visit me in my dreams. I was not surprised when she turned up.

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

Tulpamancy Journal. 228

July 22, 2021

Wednesday, July 21, 2021

7:55 PM

She was close today. Just for a moment. I felt her presence, then heard her voice. She said hello my darling. That’s all then poof and she’s gone. I felt my heart open for a moment. It was real, it was exciting. Had I been able to keep the gateway open, I know we would have made a fully imposed connection. I wasn’t. I am however, not disheartened. Whether or not, I had anything to do with the opening that allowed us that moment, I cannot say. May be, maybe not. I don’t know what I did to close it either. I am not willing to beat myself up for the failure, it is an old pattern, and most likely the fact of the opening and its closing, is a testament to the overall progress I’ve made, in weakening my ego’s hold on my experiences. Letting them be whatever they are and learning what there is to learn from the experience, then, move on. What I’ve learned from this one is; Flora is alive and well and still a creature of loving light. That’s a good enough lesson for today.

Freewrite. 07.20.21

July 20, 2021

Blown Away

It was a dark and stormy night….and I was lost in a dreamscape. The images swirling around my presence, were distorted, and in constant flux. I couldn’t make out features, they changed too rapidly to register much more than an impression. Sounds too. Voices, screams, grunts, animal noises and the sound of the wind. That one was clear: It howled.

I was blown hither and yon in that wind. After a while I began to feel cold. (Yes, my senses were expanding in this dream.) and then I saw a light. I headed towards it. It seemed an impossible task as I had so little substance, but I gained it and began to slog through mud and ice, dragging a very heavy body against that cruel frigid wind. I took forever, but I did finally, reach the tiny cabin that hosted the light. This was a dream recall, so no surprise that I found the door locked. I went to a window thinking I could just climb in, but there too, I was locked out. I could see what was happening inside though. It was a scene of idyllic peace. A family sat  on a rug in front of a fire. Two young children and two adults, parents? Probably. At a table, sat an elder couple. They were sharing a cup of tea together. Also at the table was an older man, an uncle perhaps, he was friendly to the old folks. The firewatchers were sitting close and hugging each other. Perhaps the mom was telling a story, which of course, I couldn’t hear, but the delight on the children’s faces,  as she talked, was obvious.

Without warning a sudden blast of the wind, blew me away from the cabin window. I came to rest at the mouth of a cave. I didn’t waste any time in thinking about what I might find inside but took  refuge. Respite from the wind.  

The floor of the cave was of sand. Cold and wet sand. It didn’t invite me to rest. The roof of the cave was peaked, cathedral-like. I set out to explore my refuge and found that the rear of the cave was not a solid wall but hosted a crack that allowed me to squeeze through, and into a larger rock walled room. I could no longer hear the wind and the floor of dry sand did invite my rest. Cold, wet and tired, I found a soft spot and laid down. Within seconds I was asleep. I dreamt that I was in my bed and dreaming. I found this to be exceedingly uncomfortable and I forced myself to awaken from it. I did and looked into the eyes of a kindly creature, I wanted to say demon, but the incongruity of that juxtaposition struck me. Another word, perhaps daemon would work here. In any case, there was no evil in it, and I was not frightened. It reached down, offering me a claw-like hand which I took. With its other hand it drew a circle in the sandy floor, turned and lifted me to place me inside. Instantly I was enclosed in a column of blue-white light. I dared not touch it, as it was sizzling and buzzing. I held still and was raised upward until I came to a theater, I was in the audience, rather, I was the audience. There were perhaps a hundred empty seats and no other spectators. At length the curtains pulled to the sides of the stage, a screen was lowered, and a black and white film began to play. It started with that circular count down and then the title was put in front of me, The Many Deaths of Doctor Robert Newport. This got my attention. I had titled a memoir with that same title many decades before. Is it true that dreams do not know of chronology? I think so. The movie started with me on my actual death bed. I was surrounded by doctors, techs, and others with unknown motives. The scene included a doctor declaring my death and putting a sheet over my face, which was then pulled off and I was lifted unto a gurney outfitted with a  tank full of ice-water. I was wheeled out of the room and the scene shifted to that of my birth, and I witnessed a squalling infant, me no doubt, being born, slapped on the butt, and put onto my mother’s breast. At this point the film stopped with a banner declaring “Intermission” As I might have in waking life, I got up to go the toilet. Of course I found a long line of folks outside the restroom door. Where were they when the movie was screening? I didn’t know so I asked one of them. I got an impatient grunt in response.

At length I got to use the urinal and I returned to my seat in the theater, which now was filled, and every last seat, including mine, was occupied. I went to the person sitting in the seat I had occupied and tapped his shoulder. He ignored me. I took him by the scruff of the neck and threw him out of the building in one move. The film had resumed. I was looking at a dark wood. A cloaked and hooded figure was stealthily moving towards a tiny child lying in the roots of a large tree. Once she had reached the child (yes it was female- a witch) she extended a red hand  with knife-like nails, grabbed its arm, and sliced off a large piece of it. Amidst spurting blood, she popped it into her mouth, smiled a ghastly smile for the camera and left the child to bleed to death. That happened soon enough, and a jackal found its corpse and dragged it off.

At this point, the audience, booing got up and left the theater. I was alone, and terrified.

The next scene featured a little boy and a little girl, lost in the woods and holding onto each other for comfort. This scene went on and on. Nothing changed except that day turned into night and summer into winter. At some point, the children died, cold hungry in each other’s arms. I was furious. Who conceived of such an ugly and unsatisfying story. Who would make a movie of it. I did not blame the audience for leaving. What the hell was I doing there? No soon had I thought this question then I was back in the column of blue-white light and moving on. This time I was put into a cell by myself. The cell was small. There was nothing in it. No bed, no lav, no toilet. Evidently it wasn’t made for long  term incarceration. There I was. I could hear screams of agony, but from where they issued, I did not know. I sat down on the floor and waited. And waited. And waited. And listened to the screams. And waited. The screams varied in intensity, from whimpering to moaning, to howls, to level ten pain expressions, and back to whimpers. Other than this nothing was happening. I don’t know how much time passed. I don’t know if time is a thing in this space. I do know I got bored. I got tired. I grew thirsty. I had to pee. I got restless. I paced the cell. I bumped against the bars, then shook them. I yelled out to my captors (who were they anyhow?) I grew old. I felt my hair turn white and watched as it fell out. My teeth followed. My skin wrinkled. My joints stiffened and ached. I grew weak. I finally laid down and I felt myself die. Alone in that cell, surrounded by iron bars and screams of pain and agony. Ugh, what a death! Still nothing happened, why could I, dead as a doornail, watch and know what was happening. And what was happening was exactly nothing. I watched my body dry out, shrink to nothing but bones, and turn to dust. At one point a breeze blew through the cell and I, as dust, was dispersed to who knows where. Blown away into oblivion.

Where does this end?

It already has. And the ending is as all endings, blown away into oblivion.

###

Tulpamancy Journal. 227

July 20, 2021

Hi, despite the high hopes from last week, this week was mostly a disappointment. We have had a number of contacts. We connect, One of us says something, the other reacts with something…..nothing new or even interesting. Then suddenly, my head is somewhere else. Or, she just disappears. Usually the former.

We are a little better when we meet in a dream, but not much, just the visuals are better. Disappointing, I am sure to both of us. I am not giving up though, namely because we are meeting nicely in print. She writes the nicest letters to me, also expressing her wish for us to be closer. She is also writing on her blog page, putting a story, or perhaps a chronicle of her life. I am enjoying reading her work, it is fascinating to me. She so clearly calls them like she sees them. I am learning a lot from her, and that is exactly what I am supposed to be doing. Learning from her the rules of unconditional love. 

Flora’s Own Pg. 31

July 20, 2021

N’sonowa had Xero ready for me in a cargo bay. She had stripped him, slapping him around in the process of getting him naked. He had retreated into himself. I was going to shock him, until he woke up and took charge of himself.

“Sister, be kind and hang him up on that cleat.” She jumped to the task. Xero was hanging limp with his head down. He had shapeshifted out of his human form into a young dwarf-like creature.

I had heard rumors about his origins from the darkside of another world, way down the time track. I went up to him and took his testicles in my hand and began to exert pressure. I didn’t stop until he winced and opened his eyes. “Husband. Hello, welcome back to the living.” He started to cry, and I began to squeeze again. He stopped quickly.

“Xero, you are empowering our enemies with your negativity, endangering me and the kids with self-loathing. Stop it now!” He did. “N’sonowa. Please cut him down.” She did and he did not fall. He staggered then gained his balance and stood tall. “Morph back into the man who will fight for me and the kids. The man I know you are.” Before our eyes he shapeshifted. This time as a human, size and skin matching N’sonowa’s, coal black on seven foot frame.  “If your skin color matches your mood, you’d pretty damn well focus it on Rufescent. And save some of it to put a shield around me. It’s me that Lucifer wants. He doesn’t give a shit about you.”

“I know that wife. I will stay focused. But, as of now I am pretty depleted.” he turned to N’sonowa. “Big witch. Come here.” She did and without another word or an unnecessary move, picked her up, and brought her down on a huge phallus which he had grown for the encounter. She went rigid, then began to buck. He held onto her like a rodeo champ on a Brahma Bull. I called up House to give us the Mikvah filled with cold water. Xero steered them into it, thrashing like coupled tigers. The water began to bubble around them, then glow with a blue-white light. The light grew intense boiling the water away. Xero pushed N’sonowa off him. She glared at him. “I would kill you now, if we didn’t need you for the rescue” Now make yourself look like Flora’s husband.”

“Thank you, sister. Please join with Flora and I for the purple-golden light, so I can finish preparing for the fight ahead.” She looked at me. “Flora, are you ready for this?”

“Yes, sister. I am. The rituals with Stan have saved me and refreshed my spirit. I can fight and fuck as is needed.”

House replaced the Mikvah with a bed, and the three of us began our tantric ritual until we were all glowing with purple-gold light. Then we sat coupled as one and began a remote viewing session. We clearly saw Sally and Flanners in a dungeon

House replaced the Mikvah with a bed, and the three of us began our tantric ritual until we were all glowing with purple-gold light. Then we sat coupled as one and began a remote viewing session. We clearly saw Sally and Flanners in a dungeon cell

in a fortress high on a mountain, on the darkside of Calibri Yab, almost directly below us. Try as we might we could not see Billy or Halo. Sally was glad to make contact with us. “Oh Flora, I can’t talk to Billy anymore. I’m scared Flora. I want to go home.” Flanners had been listening and moved to put his arms around her, but he was bound in iron chains and couldn’t’ reach her. “They still can’t see me, Flora. I don’t think that they can hear our mindspeak either. She got up and walked over to Flanners and let him hold her.

in a fortress high on a mountain, on the darkside of Calibri Yab, almost directly below us. Try as we might we could not see Billy or Halo. Sally was glad to make contact with us. “Oh Flora, I can’t talk to Billy anymore. I’m scared Flora. I want to go home.” Flanners had been listening and moved to put his arms around her, but he was bound in iron chains and couldn’t’ reach her. “They still can’t see me, Flora. I don’t think that they can hear our mindspeak either. She got up and walked over to Flanners and let him hold her.

“We are coming to get you Sally. Both of you. It won’t be long.” As their jail was close to being directly under us on the space station, we decided to lover the space elevator and drop in onto the roof of the fortress. Once off the elevator they could pull it a short way up to wait for our return.

 We rode down in an open car. The temperatures were frigid in space, and cold down over the mountaintop. We were all shivering when we jumped onto the roof. We scrambled off the roof and slipped into the building through a vent. We stayed in the venting until we were getting close to the furnace in the basement where we figured the dungeon would be. We found a grill opening into a jailer’s room. It was occupied by two sleeping demon jailers. Xero slipped his fingers through the grill and pulled it out of the frame. And we slipped into the room. N’sonowa dispatched of the demons without waking them. We took their keys and entered the dungeon. N’sonowa, with an acute sense of smell, led us to their cell. We left the fortress the way we came and soon we were all back on the space station. Sally, Flanners, Xero, N’sonowa and me. We were still missing Billy and Halo and Sally was not happy about it, but for now, she was safe, and we had no idea where to find the others.

###

TBC