The Alien Moth
I have not been very active here lately but that's attributed to training I'm now undergoing...
Marcus had answered an e-mail I had written. It was about my concerns as to why I'm not making money with any of this yet. He was quite perplexed as to why, because after being here for well over year (actually pushing on 18 months now,) I've only secured one sale...and that was incidental.
We must not discount that our own subconscious minds could be doing its own bit in giving us messages that we need to pay attention to.
That's right...those we see in our dreams at night. However, most of us are not disciplined to retain those messages and they go unheard...forgotten. Once in a while something is so vivid it cuts through into our consciousness and we remember them as being a nightmare or just a "strange" dream.
I have, long ago, learned how to capture dreams into print and preserve these messages. However insignificant or irrelevant, dreams can become the gateway to huge personal success! Consider:
- Harry Potter
- Star Wars
- Frankenstein
Consider what has become of people like Mary Shelley and George Lucas who had dreams like these! Mind you, these are the naturally-occurring dreams...the enhypnedelia (in-sleep-showing or in-sleep-revelation.)
I read in a book about dreams a long time ago how to capture these in all their glory. Today I have two or three hundred of such nocturnal captives in a body of writing I simply call, "Book of Dreams." The earliest of these go back to 1988.
I still have the original book from which I derived this knowledge.
Recently I've had a strange development in this...my own subconscious mind...inside my very sleep, knows which dreams need to be recorded...and it becomes a play-back machine...all on the subconscious level. I experience this whenever my subconscious deems a dream to be surreal, bizarre, or simply something useful...and plays the sequence back. I can't tell you how or why this happens...
All I know is now I have no trouble putting something out that seems, at first, unimportant...such as the dream following...
[What do you think this dream is saying?]
04-10-11_The Alien Moth
I cherished the moth's existence. It was a bit of Florida I had left behind...a live
species displaced in a cold country. The grass was still green here but it was very cold.
Autumn was already upon us. The moth had been crushed flat but was still alive. It had gotten out and was trying to expand its wings.
I could tell the body of the moth was still intact and that life would come back into it and indeed, it has. In time, despite the cold the moth began fluttering around looking for Floridian delicacies. It had no idea where it was any more than people of the area had any idea what kind of moth this was.
But it moved on just the same. Nobody actually paid any attention to this moth. It was just another moth.
One day the moth had gone back into my stuff in the pickup. It was the only place where it could actually find refuge. Albeit it was in a rolled-up Tampa Tribune newspaper and accidentally got crushed when I closed up the tailgate. Later I found it and opened the newspaper. There it was in a puddle of water within, gasping its final breath. The newness of the place I was in had worn off. The uniqueness of being in a region out of time and place with everybody else had worn off.
I was now just like the rest...getting up and going off to a job (or to school) like the rest here. Florida was now a distant memory...one that mattered not to the natives of this region.
I had gotten up early with the rest of my brothers and sisters. We were in Mother's house. I was in Larry's room with two pieces of French Toast sticks (like those of Burger King) getting ready to heat them up. I wasn't sure that was what I wanted. Nearby was a bowl that had remnants of my brother's breakfast...in a blue cheap plastic bowl...fragments of mushy corn flakes and some milk left in the bottom of it.
The bowl was just left there in the messy, cluttered bedroom on the upper part of his desk.
My brother's slovenly habits have not changed.
I went out of the room and was passing by the stairs in the living room. There was joking going on and I remember adding my two cents to it saying "...or no good." It rhymed with what Kathy had said. When I had said my piece, Kathy laughed. It could have been taken the wrong way but wasn't.
Somewhere a voice got was uttered saying, You need to get someone to do the marketing! You need someone to get behind you and push! I had some sort of greatness inside of me...one that would make me a luxurious living...but remained trapped inside of me. This was the message.
When I awoke, the first thing that came to my mind was...I'm the marketer!
Some Final Thoughts...
I realize there are some particulars about this dream that perhaps those of you who read would not have any idea about.
The characters are indeed my brothers and sisters. I was whisked back to a time when my mother was alive and the house in which I grew up was still in the family.
To me, Florida has always been a special place. This is why I live here...even in the abject poverty in which I continue to find myself. When I went to Toledo, Ohio, I had a pit in my stomach. When I became entrapped up there (some of you remember this episode in my life as I wrote about it here in the Membership.) and could not return to my home in Florida, the snow and frigid weather became the determining factor to do something about it.
Today I'm back home...but there are still elements in that dream that remain unresolved...
(Many of the details betwixt will go into obscurity, because in real life, work is still a very real thing and no time to write them.)
I was sitting in a limosine, waiting for the driver, or the chauffeur, to whisk me away to a great mansion that was to become my home. I wondered if those of my village would cheer me in my fame as I was driven away from there. Of those in the present: My dear friends, Donald, Almon, Brent, Rob, and the other close friends I would be leaving. I sat there knowing that I was no longer expected to lift my finger to any work.
The chauffeur came and we turned the corner to the left, to leave. My friends were cheering me and waving good-bye to me.
Not too far down the road, which resembled Old County Rd, near Mahony's Package Store, in West Holyoke, there was something blocking it. When we got to it, turned out to be two very high stacks of ductboard, the right set more forward than the left, but there was no room go get around them or between them. I wasn't supposed to lift my finger anymore. My friends began laboring to move the ten-foot high stacks, like slaves, and I was sitting there
Conscience overcame me. I got out and happily began helping with the ductboard to move it aside...
