What dreams, may come...

Third eye opens to darkness, roiling with potentiality. In the space above my head are dark bodies, insistent and gleaming with an inner light. Instead of words, there are feelings, and I get the sensation of shouting, of pleasure and pain, of deep conversations held at multiple levels of ethereal manifestation.

I feel a sensation at the region of the sacral plexus, and, in my astral form, look down to see a dark agglomeration, conscious and feeding, sucking at my essence, seeking to enter me at some specific point of weakness. As it burrows within me in a dark frenzy I consciously marshall my energies against its penetration, seeing it glow in frustration as its efforts are met by light, searing its astral flesh at the point of contact.

The darkness is rent by transmogrification.

Floating in a sea of whiteness, mind expanding, body diffused, points of consciousness existing, communicating at impossible distances, simultaneous creation, mind explicit, complicit with the very essence of existence. Open, wide, infinite senses bombarded by experience: love, hate, pain, pleasure, ecstasy and joy, an expansive, all-encompassing joy, sublime and infinite, caresses my consciousness like a suble lover.

Deeper motions, leviathan awakened by the nattering of plankton insistently scouring his flesh of an aeon's worth of barnacles. Earthy consciousness, turgid and presicent, ironic core considerations of celestial movements electrical and magnetic in nature. Organic and mineral being, consciousness rent by relentless attack, cancer-like in nature, humanity at the crossroads as Gaia groans, the torment of her inevitable cleansing a stark promise written in the stars.

Awaken I, open I eyes, wide, 3rd orb vision of consciousness unflinching awareness in the face of the fantastic. Terrific visions of blood and warfare, of a sky rent by fire and massive missles of interplanetary proportions, Nibiru's vast girth outshining the sun, the moon dwarfed in trembling awe as the celestical cohort trumpets the return of the King, all glory unbound.

Shifting beneath flimsy covering, the sunlight warms my eyelids and the birds outside sing of perfection and peace, secure. Awareness burgeons, nightly emanations recede into the dim recesses of consciousness and the morning's routine begins.