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Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club
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Danjummai
Posted 9/4/2008 7:05 AM (#9966 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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DEFENSE ACADEMY 08-30-2008I headed towards Defense Academy a stone-throw from my house. I was at the top of the hill and place where the community graveyard was when two known faces, Aaron my nephew and Danma his friend, met me. They are both youths and hidden merchants of the dark aim of their lord. I was surprised that they approached me humbly and friendly too. “We are form farm. The crops as you can see are ripe for harvest,” Danma said pointing to the thicket of farmland surrounding the graveyard. “I am headed toward the defense academy,” I said to them and left. I found myself thinking of a serious financial worry on the way. Before I knew it I was considering suicide as there seemed no way out of the planted financial worry. I was so thinking when came I to a shop by the roadside occupied by the somber faces of long acquainted traders, all of them reaching out to shake my hand. A Café owner mockingly said, “I have no money, I would have given this honest man to settle his worries.” I took no offence, but nib a small piece from the fabric of their stall and held it with the tip of my fingers. It was plywood. I passed on and was onto a busy street. It seemed impossible to cross the street that I stand to cross. The motorcade here seemed to know little, if not nothing about speed limit. It will be suicidal for me to cross, and in analyzing the chirped in financial worries, I began questioning whether they are really mine? No! I have no worry whatsoever! I told myself and awoke.

Edited by Danjummai 9/4/2008 7:08 AM
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mruppert
Posted 9/5/2008 11:20 PM (#10004 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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The lazy one knows where the soup is sweet

He goes from house to house,

If there is no sacrifice today,

His breastbone will stick out!

-Yoruba saying

Eternal,

Marty and Cats, Lucky, Poppy, and Sissy

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Danjummai
Posted 9/8/2008 9:52 AM (#10074 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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ALIEN LOVER 10-03-2001 By Danjummai

…”And I will always love youuuuuu”… This song filled the night and depth of Juma’s mind, filtering from the inbuilt sensitive speakers of his computer which was executing its last task for the day before shut down. When Windows finally closed, its owner was fast asleep. The bed-sitter and room of Juma was now in complete darkness. Man and machine are now at a peaceful rest. Juma was cuddling a pillow in his arms, his face turned towards his best friend poised on the table by his bedside. “I will always love you,” he muttered in his sleep. He was dreaming of his beloved Binta, young and beautiful, laid before him by the appeasing bank of a lovely sea. It was a starry night and he was dozing while Binta, his love was ruminating beside him. She rose, kissed and caressed his chest. He opened his eyes to find her atop him. They made love and fell into light sleep. She was the first to awaken and delightfully ran her fingers on his bared chest. Juma opened his eyes and smiled. “Have you told him?” Binta asked. “Not yet love. Father is unpredictable. Let us take time knowing ourselves better as agreed.” Juma said. “You humans are funny. We have known each other for five years and you still think we ought to know more. Are we saying that our love is not true?” Juma sat up. The tilt of their discussion is going wayward. He was not ready for where Binta usually knot her lines if it comes to this very argument which is like a cog in the wheel of their bid to get married. Juma is afraid to introduce Binta to his father an eccentric multi-billionaire who has been grooming Juma, his only son to take over from him. “Come on, darling, let’s be patient. You don’t know father as I do. You know I love you very much and I will be the most happier to be married to you. You have to trust me on this.” Binta stood up and Juma with her. They stood staring at each other’s eyes as if prying to learn the truth from their gaze. She was reading his mind. He opened up wider for her blue eyes to see into him. He felt his vision melting till she had logged in completely. He partially watched the halting of motion from the area of the sea and beyond. She had reached to where truth lies. “We are now united,” he heard Binta say. “I know you truly love me. I know you care. I summon you to strengthen your resistance mechanism. You must have to resist your fears to forge ahead. I command you to relax as I proceed to heal your soul,” Binta muttered. Juma’s eyes closed and blinked open again. He saw a pool of light sauntering from his head down to his feet. His eyes blinked again and when they had vision he saw a brilliant figure before him. “Binta, wait is it father?” His mind queried “Juma, I am your father,” the voice said. “Ah, Father, I am glad to see you," he said a bit surprised. "Where is this place?” Juma asked. “Don’t bother. Come to me son. I want to show you something,” his father said and they went strolling ahead. “You see, my son, there is nothing greater than knowledge which leads to wisdom. There is nothing worse than ignorance and fear. I want you take good hold of yourself. Throw away your fears and reach out to the world and indiscriminately drink from its many fountains,” his father said. “Father, I must confess that I have been in love with someone dear, an alien from outside our world and I fear that you will disapprove,” Juma said. “Where is my daughter-in-law?” his father asked. Juma looked around but Binta was nowhere in sight. “Believe me father we were right here a while ago.” “I believe you my son. But have you checked there” his father said, motioning to Juma’s chest. Juma lowered his gaze to his heart-line. “Father I can’t see…” he began. “Of course you can! Get your thoughts together and break the walls!’ Juma zeroed his mind on his target. At a point he saw his body turning into light, then he saw his light shooting like a meteor into a cluster of light. “O, my God! Is this real?” He queried. “Reality and dream are both products of the mind, you should count yourself lucky that you are right now in the middle of all,’ his father said. “Wow, this is great,” he excitedly said. “There is something much greater son – winning the heart of love! I want you walk in there with my blessings and comb the entire nooks and crannies of their cities to get me back my daughter-in-low,” his father said. “Are you not coming with me?” Juma asked. Not really but I will be what you want to see; I will be what you want to hear; I will be your every touch and feel; I will wait right here and watch your return.” Juma’s father snapped his fingers and there appeared Huston who took a bow in front of them and began her remixed version of ‘I will always love you’… “Well, over to you Captain, the pleasure is yours. A piece of advice though, is to take things easy or you end up being caught in the web.” “…and I will always love youuuuuu…” Huston knotted her song bowed in front of Juma and descended into a busy street. Juma followed as she walked swinging her hips. She stopped by a white car and went in. The car had a weird plate number reading ‘KARMA.’ Huston winked to Juma and sent her powerful sports car screeching into the street. The street broadened, turning into a racing course. Juma and several other cars were in line to begin a race. The opening saw all the cars and Juma flying above in the same speed. Then the white car slowly inched forward ahead of the rest, followed by Juma who laboriously propelled himself to catch up. The gap between man and machine was widening. Huston was at a comfortable distance ahead. Juma’s courage was put to test. The tearing of engine and the stretching of brain headed towards the last lap of the race where a winner was to emerge. Juma closed his eyes. His speed tremendously increased and soon he was at par with the white car, the rest of the cars trailed far behind. When Juma stretched further, he sleekly overtook the white car, shooting past the boisterous crowd at the finishing line and flying into the unknown. He awoke to find himself in a strange land. The captivating beauty of the scenery he saw around him blocked the channel of fear that began rearing in his mind. He headed toward the reception of a beautiful hotel. Juma went in, walking atop a diamond floor. The dancing floor caught his attention where elegantly dressed damsels and gentle denizens were marrying. In the middle of the floor and in a pool of light was Mariah in the embrace of Bob Marley, Phil Colin’s ‘Another day in paradise’ filled the lovely night. Juma watched the scenario as if in dream. When the track finished the crowd gave Marley and Mariah a standing ovation. “Jamon!” Marley said and tapped Juma on the shoulder. Juma was dumbfounded. “You kept Jah Rastafara waiting isn’t it? Marley said and laughed. “Beg your pardon Sir? Juma said. “Never mind! It is allowed in No-Man’s-Land. I want you meet here my love mademoiselle Kaaray,” Marley said. They all laughed to Marley’s comic. Mariah and Juma warmly shook hands and then Marley slipped his arms on their shoulders and directed them towards a picturesque opening by the edge of a wall. Mariah lit a Jamaican weed and blew the smoke in the face of Juma. “I have never seen the face of your friend around. Is he a resident or visitor?” She asked “Tara! You like his black dick right? Just hold on a moment honey. When I am finished with him you can have fun life long,” Marley said and laughed. Mariah walked to Juma and pressed her body close. “You heard what he said. You’re mine!” She said putting her arms around his neck. “Easy mademoiselle, the man just arrived. You get your ass aside and let me teach the guy the nitty-gritty that turns you on.” Marley said. Mariah quickly stepped aside. “Over here my angel,” Marley beckoned to Juma. “See that garden by the Atlantic?” “Yes, the one by the white mansion?” “Sharp eyes you’ve got,” “See that woman there?” “Yes, the one in red?” He asked. “Yeah, you are there Romeo!” Marley said and left him partially awake. “Had a lovely trip?” Someone asked Juma. “May be it is a dream.” He countered. “Oh, what’s this sound?” He asked, now fully awake “I will always love you…”

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Danjummai
Posted 9/16/2008 3:36 PM (#10257 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Daw Aung San Suu Kyi/Shakespeare 07-19-2005

I was watching a mechanism that makes phones receive messages for their owners. There was a code for those that do not want to be disturbed, to reject calls, no matter how others try to cheat the machine. I watched an Asian explaining to a European how the answering machine works. I left the two and went into the news where I listened to a news item: “Ang San Suu Kyi is sick She Suffers from painful rashes that appeared all over her skin and most sensitive part. The activist is receiving treatment at a hospital near her home.” I flew into her home and saw her bathing. I watched the bathtub she was bathing in and it appeared someone planted a virus in the bathtub, resulting in her infection. I watched as she received treatment form a male doctor. We locked eyes, but it seemed her gaze was far away. I left for a most strange publishing house. There the same Asian I passed intimating the European about the answering machine was still at work. Here, he was talking about the printing press. “People come here form all over the globe to download materials. I am the only living soul. The rest is machine,” he said. I went round the place watching the peculiar machines churning out words. There were papers and trays all over the large hall. There were large shelves around the walls stacked with fat books. I was in a library. The Asian was by my side showing me works. I watched a collection of poetry works in an encased glass. The European was by my side. We were watching a separate book titled “26.” “Do you have the work of Shakespeare?” The European asked. “We have works of old and now,” the host answered and I awoke.

 

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Paul Joseph
Posted 9/16/2008 6:24 PM (#10261 - in reply to #754)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Location: United Kingdom
Dear Danjummai

Reading and re-reading your dream posts I went back to the start of the thread; wondering, what are you asking by posting such intimate depth material ?

Your first post said, expecting nothing; so that was my question answered.

Then I read your second post. I personally am unaware of any such 'Jewish' custom. True Judaism, as in the essential truth of all of our religions is love: each of us, sparks of the Divine yearning to flame into union with the One.

Of course, explicit religious signatures have varied contexts and meanings; according to our personal contexts - as do our posts, our journeys & dreams.

Namaste
Paul




Edited by Paul Joseph 9/16/2008 6:31 PM
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Danjummai
Posted 9/17/2008 5:40 PM (#10289 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Dear Paul,

Thanks a million for sharing your thought/belief. I have forgotten I have posted any such question about the Jewish 'dream-custom' May be it was a rhetorical question too. However, shallow experience has shown that dreams are just dreams, just like poetry dear brother, which you know is subject to different interpretation. As far as I assume, the subconscious is one sure area free from the rule of context. Amateurs like me just lie in our beds and see things, things we try to share with the larger society to guide us in our search for ultimate truth. Dreams just come to us. We did not make them. So "personal contexts," as far as the dream process is concerned is like confining the loaded messages in dream. However personal a dream, it has a touch with the whole – this, my weird assumption of course.

With Love Infinite!

Shalom! 

 
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Danjummai
Posted 9/18/2008 4:01 PM (#10299 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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BLACK JEWS 07-10-05

I was into a football pitch in an Israeli suburb that has a large Palestinian population. There was peace in the entire region which I watched one after the other standing in the middle of a football pitch. I was watching two people, one Jew, who looked as a trainer, and the other a black man, looking like a trainee. The black man was looking sullen, perhaps from the hard training I saw him underwent. There was suddenly an air of resentment from the aura of the two. The coach took a wide shot with the ball before him, as if in an expression of his bolted anger, and the trainee ran after the ball to bring it back. This he did sluggishly. The drill went on and on, till the trainer got tired and refused to play. Meanwhile the trainee turned away his face from his master. I went to him and said: “What’s the matter bro?” He said: “Go and leave us alone! Do you know what these people are thinking of us, Blacks? Do you know what Arab/Israeli peace means? It means the end of a long lasted strife and the beginning of black tribulation. They are treating us like shit, and with the vacuum now about to be filled, we will be the next target. They will try to crush us as the Yankees tried and failed with their own black race. But here, they will meet with the toughest nut of the Children of God. We’ll teach them True Essence, thereby teaching the world to let things be the way God wants. You heard all, go now and leave us alone,” the stout looking young man somberly said shifting his gaze to ground. I looked at the other man whose face had turned red and glistening with sweat and went away feeling the heat from their loaded emotions. I awoke.

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mruppert
Posted 9/18/2008 10:28 PM (#10300 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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They sought to caste off one chain for another. The manor house and it's virtues, airs, attitudes and fancies. There is subjugation in any and all walks of life. We are ultimately slaves and slavers, because we fear! But, we must realize that no matter what, we all serve somebody.........

"You might be a pauper or even a king,

you might be a poet or just about anything,

You might be the Devil, or you might be the Lord,

But your still gonna serve somebody,

'Cause everybody has to serve somebody!"

Peace be with you,

Marty and Felines Domesticus, Luckylee, Poppyhead, and SissyGirl

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Danjummai
Posted 9/20/2008 2:29 PM (#10354 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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MacCain Vs. Obama 09-18-08

I was watching the luminous images of two males, one atop the other. The image at the top looked like that of Obama and his light was more brilliant than the one at the bottom whose light was so brilliantly contorted it was difficult to say it was that of McCain or not. I awoke.

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Danjummai
Posted 9/28/2008 1:37 PM (#10487 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Right &Wrong 09-28-08

We were in new place. There were some ladies and a tall moderately built American in our midst. I was the only African there. The surrounding looked like a hostel with walls sprayed with ash-colored paint “I am having a cold feeling, “the energetic American said. “There are two walls to this edifice and you still feel cold?” I queried as we entered the study room where the two ladies were seated. “There are two things as far as I am concerned, Negative and Positive,” my friend said his voice sounding strained with anger whose reddish glow spread across his face. “Calm down Paul,” I found myself saying. “Although there is the Negative and the Positive forces, I see the two serving the same purpose of our creation.” My friend looked more embittered by this personal view point and went round our meeting place waxing about his muscles to the two ladies in concordance with my view. His face looked so pale and his greenish eyes so intense as he watched me withdraw from the chambers of sleep and awoke.

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Paul Joseph
Posted 9/28/2008 3:32 PM (#10490 - in reply to #10487)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Dear Danjummai, Dream-seer: - just for the record (ha !), i read this dream before my last post


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mruppert
Posted 9/29/2008 3:21 PM (#10512 - in reply to #10487)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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It was warm and it had just rained. The air smelled clean. We marched a bit down the trail to the village that was "friendly." The sky remained calm, but the land burst with thunder just at the edge of the village. Men cried and bled.

I shoved the entrails of Davey into his gut and told him to hold his gut closed. I told him that they would sew him together again, and he would be as good as new. I watched him hear my words as the flame of life flickered out of his eyes. Then I watched a Davey that was no longer him.

I ordered a retreat....I ordered a run for your M@#$$%^$ing life. The rain started and pelted us and sped us on our way.

We went back to the Minh village. They were very much French and did French things. They were having a wedding. The bride was in white and the groom wore a makeshift tuxedo. There was a Viet priest and he presided over the ceremony. He never saw the rainstorm coming!

And, I took comfort in the sound of the rain. As bullets flew I dreamed of the falling rain. The barrels of our bigger guns got so hot...we had to dose them with water....to keep the rain falling. The brides white dress was red. The grooms hand was in a pocket grasping a ring that his bride would never wear. The ceremony was complete!

We stopped when we ran out of ammo. We saw nothing move. It began to rain, a gentle rain on a warm afternoon. We were exhausted, yet elated. Several boys high fived. I was secretly crying. There was a movement in the center of the ceremony place. A little girl stood up with a wreath of flowers in her hair and a bouquet in her hand. Boaz took out his sidearm and shot her in the head. Shot her dead! Someone, whose name will never be known took out his side arm and shot Boaz dead between the eyes.

The horror of it all was too much for that person, but the horror of the little girl was way more than even the strongest person can stand. If the little girl had just stayed down...down among the bloody bodies. But, the person who responded to Boaz has no regrets, as there can exist extreme cruelty in life, but there is ALWAYS a defining limit. When someone says that the cruelty must stop!

Pax Vobiscum,

Marty and 3X3 lived cats, Luck, Popp and Siss

P.S. Any, all or other events depicted are things drawn from composite memory of the author and the names are certainly not authentic. Much might be authorial license....but, the person who shot the little girl with the wreath in her hair and the bouquet is, not only really dead, but most sincerely dead!

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Paul Joseph
Posted 9/30/2008 7:20 AM (#10541 - in reply to #10512)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Heavy story Marty .... are you then, a Vietnam veteran may I ask?

Edited by Paul Joseph 9/30/2008 7:20 AM
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Danjummai
Posted 10/13/2008 11:48 AM (#11141 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Foreign Visitors 10-11-08

I was walking with a friend, suddenly we reached a heavily guarded street where plain clothe and uniformed people were standing on guard. The surrounding was strangely familiar. It looked like the temple a stone-throw from home. Then we came towards the gates where we were watching the spacious space where heavy jeeps of foreign visitors were parked. The visitors were from UK and USA. They were in a meeting with the Sheikh of the religious site, Yusuf (Joseph). They were listening to him delivering a speech. I knew Yusuf for long. I remembered his double-faced nature in the matter of the mammon and inwardly laughed. When my attention came back I realized that my partner had walked a distance far. When I tried to catch up I found my feet not agreeing with me. They felt heavy as I walked. When my head got drowsy, I found that I was back in the chambers with the foreigners. I was the one delivering the lecture. There were a couple of us on the stage while the rest paid attention to what we were saying. One of the visitors wrote number 1 on a board at our back with a white chalk and said something I didn't quite comprehend. I collected the chalk and responded, saying: “He deserves it.” Another visitor by my side responded, saying: “It is his as long as it remains in circulation.” This did not quite make any sense. I was into deeper thought but unfortunately, I was unable to sense anything save a faint idea that he was referring to wealth. I awoke.



Edited by Danjummai 10/13/2008 11:53 AM
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Paul Joseph
Posted 10/13/2008 3:57 PM (#11154 - in reply to #11141)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Location: United Kingdom
Factual response:

I wore my black work suit today. Turning around after speaking to my colleague, she said, what is that mess on your jacket ?

I took off my jacket, and there was a white-ish stain, with a central core of clarity. Where had that come from, I thought ? Bird dropping? Leaning against a white pillar? I scraped it off, washing with difficulty what did not want to leave ...

That was 10 hours ago; now I have just read Danjummai's dream !
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Danjummai
Posted 10/27/2008 3:12 PM (#11632 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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God Have Mercy 10-27-08

It was Monday. I was in a hospital with a tall and heavily built female nurse. She was showing me how to properly fill a request form. “You should cancel and correct this area,’ she said illustrating to me how to do it on the form. The form I noticed was printed and filled in black ink. She gave me back the form after the illustration and I went into the doctor’s office. I bumped into a middle-aged man of African descent. He seemed ruffled by my sudden intrusion. He was of average height with a polite face like that of the doctor he was. He began a systematic telepathic interrogation, prying to learn who I was. After the brief interrogation he said: “We don’t file in request forms here any more.” He collected the form and placing it before us ran a finger through:

“Name: Ahmad Umar Abdullahi

Address: No. 25, Garun Kurama Road, Unguwar Shanu, Kaduna, Nigeria

Age:       43 Years

Marital Status: Divorced

Requests: Early Birth/Early Death

Selection: Early Death.”

He smiled, gave me back the form and called a nurse working with him. “Take this man to the theatre-room and let him sit and correct a request filled against him by his ex-wife. May God have Mercy on her,” he said and went back into his office. I followed the nurse into the theatre-room which I found empty and looking like an ordinary ward. I sat on one of the beds, making myself at home to begin digesting information I gathered. “We don’t work today. We work tomorrow,” the voice of the slim and short nurse echoed in the theatre-room. “I understand. I will just cancel the earlier request, effect correction and be on my way,” I said. The nurse, also of African descent left quietly, closing the door behind her. I began digesting the loaded data. Why did she want my early death? I cracked my brain a while, the wording in her request crossing my sight: “Age: 43 YEARS; Selection: EARLY DEATH.” I awoke sweating.

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instinctual
Posted 10/27/2008 5:47 PM (#11642 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Ahmad, I would pay good money to spend 5 minutes in your brain...it thinks and communicates in a manner which is completely real and true, so authentically 'you'....I so look forward to

your dreams and the way you tell your story.

One does have to wonder about the white substance on your jacket, Paul, and how it maybe correlates to Ahmad's dream....things that make you go "hmmm"!

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Paul Joseph
Posted 10/28/2008 4:59 AM (#11648 - in reply to #11642)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Location: United Kingdom
Quite so Lori - and before the Hallowe'en invitation too !
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instinctual
Posted 10/28/2008 2:39 PM (#11692 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Haha! Absolutely!!
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Danjummai
Posted 10/29/2008 4:29 PM (#11746 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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You Will Come Back 06-05-08

I was into the house of Hasan to see his daughter Khadijah and instead met Zainab her step-sister just back from her nursing job. I took off my white sandals and sat on the sofa by the door. Zainab welcomed me and when asked where Khadijah was she said: "I am Khadijah." She undressed, went into the bedroom searching for her pair of brown sandals which looked similar to mine. She wore them and came out while I sat there numb. Her face looked distant avoiding my prying eyes. She mumbled further, saying: “She always get hooked with the light while I end up with the bore?” I stood up wore my sandals and stepped out. “I will let you finish dressing and come back so we can watch TV,” I said as I made to depart. “Yes, you will go and come back when I am rested. Then we’ll sit and talk some more,” she said looking at me straight. I touched the back-pocket of my dark-blue jeans to feel money I had, satisfied it was not lost; I took my leave and awoke.

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Paul Joseph
Posted 10/30/2008 6:05 AM (#11756 - in reply to #11746)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Location: United Kingdom
Thought about you last night Ahmad as saw on the world news there is trouble in the Congo ... hope you are not affected ..

peaceful blessings to Your Holy Self
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Danjummai
Posted 10/30/2008 8:54 AM (#11760 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Thinking about you a lot Paul,

felt ripples of the trouble in Congo, though not privileged to watch the news, rest assured no harm done. Haven't forgotten my Kola nut promise.

Thanks for the concern.

Infinite Love!

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Paul Joseph
Posted 10/30/2008 9:02 AM (#11761 - in reply to #11760)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Location: United Kingdom
Aha - be well Ahmad - & the dream above was the day before my wife's birthday !!
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Danjummai
Posted 10/30/2008 9:05 AM (#11762 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



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Location: Washington

Coming To America 09-28-08

“You will go to the United States of America. There you will complete your studies and work; there you will know what to do as was ingrained in your brain. Here is your ticket and travel document. You shall come alone. As for your wife, you know better,” a voice said in my ear as I stood in a banking hall. I was standing over customer desk of the bank where I stood over Peter and his colleague, Lucinda. Peter’s gaze was distant; Lucinda was looking up at me with a dazzling smile. She wore an open necked gown revealing a voluptuous set of tempting breasts. “As for your wife, you know better,” I recalled and felt appeased. “You shall come alone,” was amplified, and I felt a fog of sadness closing in. I felt uncertain, and Lucinda was seated there staring up at me with her charming smile. I will regret leaving her behind since I was to go alone I thought and intensely watched her, watching myself. Those impeccable set of white teeth, I felt I know too well. Suddenly it was night and I had to go. I went out the bank and headed for the airport with my ticket and travel documents in had and I awoke.

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instinctual
Posted 10/30/2008 10:25 AM (#11772 - in reply to #703)
Subject: RE: Metaphysical Dreams/Arts Club



PhD Alumni

Posts: 773
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Location: Arizona
Happy birthday to Paul's wife!~

Ahmad...I want to eat what you eat and drink what you drink before you sleep so I can remember my dreams so clearly...I am envious!


Blessings and beautiful night visions to you, always
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