Sunday, August 20, 2006
What Is Nothing and other thoughts
What is Nothing
If birth is just another form of dying, a change in existence, is the same true for death? I think I died once during surgery. I say think because I don’t know for sure. I saw no bright lights, tunnels, ancestors, I was not even aware of being dead or of being aware of the self. I saw, and felt, for one fleeting instant, Nothingness. No self, no light, no pain and no internal warmth, nor was I aware of the absence of these things. After that instant I “Was” once more. I was back, I was aware, and I was freezing to the core, even my blood felt cold. The first things I remember saying was: “cold,” And the nurse placing blankets over my fetal position. And you know what? I’ll never be believed. But that is okay, also, because I’ll never believe people telling me the wind is not green.
This instance was for less than a fleeting split second. There was Nothing and I became aware of this Nothingness. But once I became aware of it, it was gone. It was like looking into the darkest night while not knowing what night was, without eyes, without awareness of awareness. I cannot explain it because there is a lack of awareness on your part of what Nothingness is. This is not a flaw on either’s behalf, but just a fact. There has to be a change in beliefs that just because something is named it becomes something. This Nothing, although named, is still nothing. More so it is not Nothing but a complete absence of Everything.
Did I become aware of this nothingness because I am a non-believer? Because I had nowhere to go, so to speak? I don’t know. It was not a horrible feeling, it was no feeling whatsoever. Can this near death experience be a remembrance of birth and the first memories of the birth canal, the grandmother (any relatives), the brightness of the hospital room—any room after being in the semi-darkness of the womb? Who knows. I am more caught up in the nothingness than all the other implications.
It is like the Big Bang theory. I cannot accept such a concept. Because of the opening argument: There was nothing but this little point of something that exploded and continues to grow and expand. If there was nothing where did the little something come from? If there was a little something then there was no nothing and the universe has been here all along. We use the ‘red shift’ to tell us something is moving away from something else. Let’s see. We are spinning around at 24,000 miles a day, around a sun at another speed, and we are at the near end of a spiral arm of a galaxy that is spinning around a center at another rate. But let us not forget that this galaxy is going up and down at the same time it is going round and round. We’re going to look through our telescope at another point on a galaxy doing the same thing and say it’s going away from us. It’s like two children in the back of two cars looking out the back window at each other in the other car going away and thinking along the same lines. Only to find out they are just going around the block and will see each other in a short time.
The only way we’ll ever find out for sure is to change our concept of Time and Light. I have looked at the stars and found the time compression factor taking place, and I never left earth. Just lost in the vastness, the nothingness in between the stars, the place where God resides. Just a few years ago our grandparents didn’t think the human body could not take the speeds faster than a horse could gallop. Then we couldn’t go faster than 100 miles per hour. Not long ago scientist and pilots didn’t think we could break the sound barrier, that it was physical thing and would tear the wings off an airplane. Then Gregg Breedlove came along and went faster than 700 miles per hour in a land vehicle. The faster than light is just another way at looking how we cannot do something. Once we get past this flaw in our thinking we will get out to the places in between the stars. But even that is not the nothingness I was aware of. I have to change my way of thinking and speaking for that concept to be shared. And at this time I do not know how to do such a thing. It is an interpretation conflict; I cannot say it without using words to name it and when I name it you interrupt it as something else. Have you ever had a dream where you are falling? Right before you hit the ground, right before you wake up, where are you? That instant before you become aware of falling: Where are you? Those are the closest I can get to the feeling, the awareness.
What is nothing? It is the place where the wind begins. The place in between the seconds, between thoughts. Nothingness can never be realized because we cannot stop doing anything; talking, breathing, writing, thinking, moving, so it is only when we die are we able to do nothing. And then we are no longer able to be aware of it, truly nothingness.
We speak of silence, and communication. Of language and friendship. I believe, hope, they are all intertwined. This medium is has taken place of the pen&quill and riders on the Post Road. When I can read your words, break them down into meanings we have established so our communication doesn’t break down, form replies and new lines of communication. Yet all the while we do this silently. As an instance, we were in the Amtrak Passenger Lounge, New Orleans, when in came a woman toting laptop bags, book bags, and an oversized purse. Within five minutes she informed us she was a writer. Wow, I thought, I’m a writer; maybe we can discuss things. I asked what did she write? I was informed she was a “Novelist.” Two finished works, and one she was working one, but not published yet. That’s cool, I thought, and went back to “The Lord of the Rings.” When she left, after filling all the empty spaces of that lounge with her voice, Sheila turned to me and said, “She’s no writer. She talked too much. Writers are silent, they talk on paper.” Sheila is my best friend and every time I hear the Grateful Dead’s ‘Sugar Magnolia’ I think of her. I do not have many friends, but I am a friend to many people. What I dislike the most about meeting people is the shaking of hands. You stick that hand out there and expect me to grasp it. I don’t know where it says I must touch you to be introduced.
Really, though, what is a dialogue without input? A narration. This forum is among the best way to speak to each other, and the worst way. There is time between the post, the read, the reply and the next and so on, and so on...it gives one time to understand and form a reply, it also loses whether or not one is joking, being facetious, or just an idiot. For me it is either choice "C" or all the above. Sheila says I am the only person she knows who can put both feet in their mouth in a single thought, and this thought does not have to be spoken.
I know what is being saying about going into the experience of near death experience with preconceived notions of what is to come, what is going to happen. Is that why I went to nothing? I have no beliefs. Yes I do. I believe in a heaven and hell: hell was 1969 and heaven is when Sheila and I are on the same wave length. Waylon Jennings said it best when he said "hell is when baby ain't there." (The Outlaws: Willie, Waylon, Tompall and Jessi (C) 1976) I have been under the knife a few times (three major ones for an incident in '69 alone) and during that one time I've never been that cold before.
There is a physics law that says basically that nothing disappears, it only changes. Wood plus fire equals ash, water vapor, heat, etc. So if there is a "soul" and it is a physical thing then it would seem to suggest that humans change into dirt, water vapor, and another existence for the soul. When does an embryo become an individual? At conception? At the instant a soul is formed from the nothingness, the Big Bang(?), from the chemical catalyst of the sperm and egg DNA. There is such a thing as inherited consciousness,
deja vu, past life experiences, flashes of precognition. It circles back to the beginning: If birth is another form of dying / death; is death another birth? If nothing ever ends just changes then the universe has been here evolving and changing since before time began and will be cycling after time ends and the Big Bang is just blowing smoke.
But, a non-believer will never be converted and we are only preaching to the choir. I cannot make anyone believe in aliens, nor green winds, nor nothingness. I accept it, but I such like discussing it. You can not take over this thread, you can only make it better, believe me...You can only make it better.
Genetic mutations for seeding purposes only. Maybe food...Soylent Green is people...
Really? I believe we are from Mars, and Venus is where the dinosaurs are living. And we'll move there when the time is right.
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Peter Pan Abduction Theory
Has anyone seen the movie “Peter Pan” and/or the second—sequel—where the mother grows up and meets Peter pan once more? Is that movie about an abduction or what? Peter Pan comes in her window and takes her out to a large dark object in the sky. There are the lost boys who never grow old, but then again neither does Peter. They go to another part of the night sky. I just think it is about an alien abduction.
I can’t say I have been abducted, but there are incidences in my life that have such a taint to them. During the times of these episodes there was nothing remarkable about them. It was only later when a small incident happened that I began to think back over my life and these seemed to stand out.
I was 10 or so living in Miami, Florida, actually Cutler Ridge or Perrine, in the summer time. I was laying out in the back yard watching the heavens, and the Heavens they were – I was looking into the Milky Way and the sky was white with stars. I was, and still do find myself always looking into the night sky.
At this time Miami, Dade County, didn’t have the urban sprawl it has today and one could look into the sky. There was a pasture where we use to play. In the middle was a old barn, and this barn seemed to call to me. The first time I entered there was an owl that I appeared to have frightened, but I don’t know who was frightened more, it or me.
In 1969 I was in the Army stationed in and around Pleiku, Vietnam with the 4th Infantry Division as an infantryman and an ammo bearer on an 81mm Mortar. I heard something in the air that sounded like Morse code. I do not remember seeing any strange sights in the sky other than helicopters. In Nha Trang, in the Evac Hospital I heard what I thought to be Navy guns firing at the mountains, sounding like 55 gallon barrels whistling over. There was an incident that happened that shouldn’t have happened, or shouldn’t have been allowed to continue; it went completely against what and how I thought the Army did things. Sorry, I cannot, and will not, be more specific, it was just an incident.
The next time was around 1976 - 78 when I lived in Dobbs Ferry, New York. It was in the winter and it was snowing. I had taken out the dog for a walk. The apartment was in the back next to a service road, and on the far side of the road was a stone wall. The only thing I can remember of that night was that I was leaning against the wall and an entity was walking away from me, disappearing, into the snow. He, I felt pretty sure it was a he, was tall, skinny and had an odd way of walking I remember thinking “Icabod Crane” only because the knees bent backwards and we were near Tarrytown, NY. When I saw the movie “Close Encounters…” the tall alien at the end was familiar.
I also started having a reoccurring dream. It began as I was going to sleep. It was like I was growing and shrinking in time with my breathing and then I would float like a feather does with a pendulum movement. In the dream I was laying on a wooden stage, I could feel the roughness of the wood. I was naked lying on my back with my right leg raised, and the audience also to the right. At the time I was thinking it was so my genitals wouldn’t be seen. I couldn’t see the people, but I had an over whelming feeling they were just outside of the stage lights watching me. At this point the dream would change locations.
I was lying on an examining table in a room that was sort of like hexagonal but seemed to have more than eight walls; walls that I felt were plastic. This is a feeling that was so strong that it felt true then, and now. The walls were white and the light seemed to come from the walls in a defused way. The walls seemed to go up to infinity, but the light only went up about what I thought was ten feet. I had the feel of being watched, but I couldn’t see any one or thing. It was like an examining room and I was laying on an examining table. I cannot remember the table or getting off of it, just a feeling of being on it. After I left the room I was in a corridor ten feet wide. As I walked I would come to another corridor crossing at about fifty feet or so, sort of like a grid. I didn’t feel tired but it felt like I had walked all night, until I came to an oaken door with metal studs and hinges, like in some Fantasy story with Elves and Trolls. When I went through the door I would awaken.
During this time I worked for a company as a salesman, or rack jobber, where I would travel to the different stores and restock the shelves with the products the company sold. The first year I had a route that took me to Massachusetts and Connecticut one week and New Jersey the next. I began to collect owls, sometimes I would surprise myself by having an owl item without the remembering when or where I bought it. I had porcelain owls, ceramic owls, owls on calendars, I even had a gold chain with an owl pendant. This pendant was a little over an inch long and three-quarters of an inch wide; it was noticeable. I couldn’t pass a gift shop or store without checking to see if they had any owls. I had owls everywhere, but I hadn’t started a scrapbook – never did. This went on for about 2 years. There was a change to my territory; Pennsylvania was added and Massachusetts and Connecticut was taken away. I would fly to Jamestown, NY, and drive back through Pennsylvania. I was somewhere between Clarendon and Punxsutawney on a two lane road. I was doing about 60 when I saw a large owl drop out of a tree and head right for the car. I heard, and felt, it hit just above the windshield, but I was traveling too fast to stop. By the time I talked myself into going back, and finding a place to turn around, ten or fifteen minutes had passed. As I drove back at a slower speed I couldn’t find any evidence of the bird. I felt like I had passed the collision spot but continued on for a few more miles. When I turned around to continue my trip I still traveled at a slow speed. Never did find anything to do with the owl, nor was the car damaged. But I stop buying owls and began to get rid of the ones I had. The dreams went away. This was in the mid-seventies.
I get these feelings every now and then that I am being watched. But nothing comes of it. I have nose bleeds for as far back as I can remember, back to Miami and that barn. I always connected them with the migraine headaches I have had since I was about ten or twelve. They went away when I was about 25 years old, and now they have come back after I turned 45 or so.
We have lived in this house for nearly twenty years. A few years after we moved in, or about 5 years after living in Dobbs ferry, my second wife said she woke up one night and there were different colored balls she could see in the bedroom without any lights on. She also said there was a woman in the room. When she told this person that I was hers and she couldn’t have me the room cleared and she went back to sleep. I was not awake nor do I remember seeing anything like that since I gave up the owls.
I have no way of proving any of this. I don’t even know if I want to prove it one way or the other. It is just a piece of my life that I have lived with, making me some of what I
am today. I have been searching the Internet for a reference to owls since 1998 and this is the first time I have read anything close to what I had experienced.
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Dream Sequence 8 16/17 2006
In the dream I am with my wife. I don’t remember seeing her but knew she was with me. Before the following sequence there are bits and pieces of the dream that I can’t remember. It is disjointed images of hotels, hotel rooms, bus rides, large area with covered table for eating and bingo(?). We are in a car, convertible, with another couple on dirt/gravel road through an area like a gravel pit. It then changes once more and the other couple are gone.
We walk up to the back of a building that houses a seafood restaurant. There is an open area access by an arch. There were a few tables and at one was a black family of four. They were having fried shrimp, grouper and the Captain’s Platter for seventy-five cents, a buck and a quarter and a dollar ninety-five for what the people out front were paying fourteen ninety-five to twenty-four ninety-five. In the back right was a guy sitting, he had on an apron and a towel over his shoulder. From the back left came a voice asking, “How long have they been there?” The cook answered, “Seven minutes.” At the time, during the dream, I didn’t think anything about it, except that it didn’t seem like seven minutes. I couldn’t tell you how long it was, but it wasn’t a long wait like some waits are. At this point the guy on the left began to escort my wife and I to the front of the building. During this my wife and I were separated but I didn’t think anything about it. I awoke before going any farther.
The seven minute answer was on my mind when I woke up and it has bothered me since then. How could the guy know it was seven minutes? And not answer, I don’t know, a few minutes. Or, not long. Why seven minutes?
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First Impressions Versus First Meanings
When I read I find myself associating the words with my first meanings. I know each word has its own meaning but I find myself going with the one I got from the first time I heard the word, first impressions so to speak. As with individuals we only have a few seconds to present a first impression and probably less time for forming such an opinion for / of someone. I find myself going to certain writings because of what the title says to me in those first meanings. Sometimes I am surprised, but most often I do not get the exact meaning the writer was going for. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I go to writing because of the writer, and the first impression I made of them, with my first reading. I once took this writer’s piece apart line by line based on what I got from the poem. It was not a critique, it was done out of an experiment, a workshop, to show each other what the reader read and what the writer wrote. The concept is based on a writer saying she did not enjoy readers telling her what they got in the reading when it was not what she wrote. She felt she was straight forward in what she wanted to say in the choice of words she used. It goes back to first meanings. What words mean to each reader. As an example, there is a car company here that has three letters for its name, but when I see this word I do not think of cars but what those three letters mean to a US Army infantryman from the Vietnam era. Even though I do not always get exactly what the writer meant, I do enjoy the read.
If birth is just another form of dying, a change in existence, is the same true for death? I think I died once during surgery. I say think because I don’t know for sure. I saw no bright lights, tunnels, ancestors, I was not even aware of being dead or of being aware of the self. I saw, and felt, for one fleeting instant, Nothingness. No self, no light, no pain and no internal warmth, nor was I aware of the absence of these things. After that instant I “Was” once more. I was back, I was aware, and I was freezing to the core, even my blood felt cold. The first things I remember saying was: “cold,” And the nurse placing blankets over my fetal position. And you know what? I’ll never be believed. But that is okay, also, because I’ll never believe people telling me the wind is not green.
This instance was for less than a fleeting split second. There was Nothing and I became aware of this Nothingness. But once I became aware of it, it was gone. It was like looking into the darkest night while not knowing what night was, without eyes, without awareness of awareness. I cannot explain it because there is a lack of awareness on your part of what Nothingness is. This is not a flaw on either’s behalf, but just a fact. There has to be a change in beliefs that just because something is named it becomes something. This Nothing, although named, is still nothing. More so it is not Nothing but a complete absence of Everything.
Did I become aware of this nothingness because I am a non-believer? Because I had nowhere to go, so to speak? I don’t know. It was not a horrible feeling, it was no feeling whatsoever. Can this near death experience be a remembrance of birth and the first memories of the birth canal, the grandmother (any relatives), the brightness of the hospital room—any room after being in the semi-darkness of the womb? Who knows. I am more caught up in the nothingness than all the other implications.
It is like the Big Bang theory. I cannot accept such a concept. Because of the opening argument: There was nothing but this little point of something that exploded and continues to grow and expand. If there was nothing where did the little something come from? If there was a little something then there was no nothing and the universe has been here all along. We use the ‘red shift’ to tell us something is moving away from something else. Let’s see. We are spinning around at 24,000 miles a day, around a sun at another speed, and we are at the near end of a spiral arm of a galaxy that is spinning around a center at another rate. But let us not forget that this galaxy is going up and down at the same time it is going round and round. We’re going to look through our telescope at another point on a galaxy doing the same thing and say it’s going away from us. It’s like two children in the back of two cars looking out the back window at each other in the other car going away and thinking along the same lines. Only to find out they are just going around the block and will see each other in a short time.
The only way we’ll ever find out for sure is to change our concept of Time and Light. I have looked at the stars and found the time compression factor taking place, and I never left earth. Just lost in the vastness, the nothingness in between the stars, the place where God resides. Just a few years ago our grandparents didn’t think the human body could not take the speeds faster than a horse could gallop. Then we couldn’t go faster than 100 miles per hour. Not long ago scientist and pilots didn’t think we could break the sound barrier, that it was physical thing and would tear the wings off an airplane. Then Gregg Breedlove came along and went faster than 700 miles per hour in a land vehicle. The faster than light is just another way at looking how we cannot do something. Once we get past this flaw in our thinking we will get out to the places in between the stars. But even that is not the nothingness I was aware of. I have to change my way of thinking and speaking for that concept to be shared. And at this time I do not know how to do such a thing. It is an interpretation conflict; I cannot say it without using words to name it and when I name it you interrupt it as something else. Have you ever had a dream where you are falling? Right before you hit the ground, right before you wake up, where are you? That instant before you become aware of falling: Where are you? Those are the closest I can get to the feeling, the awareness.
What is nothing? It is the place where the wind begins. The place in between the seconds, between thoughts. Nothingness can never be realized because we cannot stop doing anything; talking, breathing, writing, thinking, moving, so it is only when we die are we able to do nothing. And then we are no longer able to be aware of it, truly nothingness.
We speak of silence, and communication. Of language and friendship. I believe, hope, they are all intertwined. This medium is has taken place of the pen&quill and riders on the Post Road. When I can read your words, break them down into meanings we have established so our communication doesn’t break down, form replies and new lines of communication. Yet all the while we do this silently. As an instance, we were in the Amtrak Passenger Lounge, New Orleans, when in came a woman toting laptop bags, book bags, and an oversized purse. Within five minutes she informed us she was a writer. Wow, I thought, I’m a writer; maybe we can discuss things. I asked what did she write? I was informed she was a “Novelist.” Two finished works, and one she was working one, but not published yet. That’s cool, I thought, and went back to “The Lord of the Rings.” When she left, after filling all the empty spaces of that lounge with her voice, Sheila turned to me and said, “She’s no writer. She talked too much. Writers are silent, they talk on paper.” Sheila is my best friend and every time I hear the Grateful Dead’s ‘Sugar Magnolia’ I think of her. I do not have many friends, but I am a friend to many people. What I dislike the most about meeting people is the shaking of hands. You stick that hand out there and expect me to grasp it. I don’t know where it says I must touch you to be introduced.
Really, though, what is a dialogue without input? A narration. This forum is among the best way to speak to each other, and the worst way. There is time between the post, the read, the reply and the next and so on, and so on...it gives one time to understand and form a reply, it also loses whether or not one is joking, being facetious, or just an idiot. For me it is either choice "C" or all the above. Sheila says I am the only person she knows who can put both feet in their mouth in a single thought, and this thought does not have to be spoken.
I know what is being saying about going into the experience of near death experience with preconceived notions of what is to come, what is going to happen. Is that why I went to nothing? I have no beliefs. Yes I do. I believe in a heaven and hell: hell was 1969 and heaven is when Sheila and I are on the same wave length. Waylon Jennings said it best when he said "hell is when baby ain't there." (The Outlaws: Willie, Waylon, Tompall and Jessi (C) 1976) I have been under the knife a few times (three major ones for an incident in '69 alone) and during that one time I've never been that cold before.
There is a physics law that says basically that nothing disappears, it only changes. Wood plus fire equals ash, water vapor, heat, etc. So if there is a "soul" and it is a physical thing then it would seem to suggest that humans change into dirt, water vapor, and another existence for the soul. When does an embryo become an individual? At conception? At the instant a soul is formed from the nothingness, the Big Bang(?), from the chemical catalyst of the sperm and egg DNA. There is such a thing as inherited consciousness,
deja vu, past life experiences, flashes of precognition. It circles back to the beginning: If birth is another form of dying / death; is death another birth? If nothing ever ends just changes then the universe has been here evolving and changing since before time began and will be cycling after time ends and the Big Bang is just blowing smoke.
But, a non-believer will never be converted and we are only preaching to the choir. I cannot make anyone believe in aliens, nor green winds, nor nothingness. I accept it, but I such like discussing it. You can not take over this thread, you can only make it better, believe me...You can only make it better.
Genetic mutations for seeding purposes only. Maybe food...Soylent Green is people...
Really? I believe we are from Mars, and Venus is where the dinosaurs are living. And we'll move there when the time is right.
----------
Peter Pan Abduction Theory
Has anyone seen the movie “Peter Pan” and/or the second—sequel—where the mother grows up and meets Peter pan once more? Is that movie about an abduction or what? Peter Pan comes in her window and takes her out to a large dark object in the sky. There are the lost boys who never grow old, but then again neither does Peter. They go to another part of the night sky. I just think it is about an alien abduction.
I can’t say I have been abducted, but there are incidences in my life that have such a taint to them. During the times of these episodes there was nothing remarkable about them. It was only later when a small incident happened that I began to think back over my life and these seemed to stand out.
I was 10 or so living in Miami, Florida, actually Cutler Ridge or Perrine, in the summer time. I was laying out in the back yard watching the heavens, and the Heavens they were – I was looking into the Milky Way and the sky was white with stars. I was, and still do find myself always looking into the night sky.
At this time Miami, Dade County, didn’t have the urban sprawl it has today and one could look into the sky. There was a pasture where we use to play. In the middle was a old barn, and this barn seemed to call to me. The first time I entered there was an owl that I appeared to have frightened, but I don’t know who was frightened more, it or me.
In 1969 I was in the Army stationed in and around Pleiku, Vietnam with the 4th Infantry Division as an infantryman and an ammo bearer on an 81mm Mortar. I heard something in the air that sounded like Morse code. I do not remember seeing any strange sights in the sky other than helicopters. In Nha Trang, in the Evac Hospital I heard what I thought to be Navy guns firing at the mountains, sounding like 55 gallon barrels whistling over. There was an incident that happened that shouldn’t have happened, or shouldn’t have been allowed to continue; it went completely against what and how I thought the Army did things. Sorry, I cannot, and will not, be more specific, it was just an incident.
The next time was around 1976 - 78 when I lived in Dobbs Ferry, New York. It was in the winter and it was snowing. I had taken out the dog for a walk. The apartment was in the back next to a service road, and on the far side of the road was a stone wall. The only thing I can remember of that night was that I was leaning against the wall and an entity was walking away from me, disappearing, into the snow. He, I felt pretty sure it was a he, was tall, skinny and had an odd way of walking I remember thinking “Icabod Crane” only because the knees bent backwards and we were near Tarrytown, NY. When I saw the movie “Close Encounters…” the tall alien at the end was familiar.
I also started having a reoccurring dream. It began as I was going to sleep. It was like I was growing and shrinking in time with my breathing and then I would float like a feather does with a pendulum movement. In the dream I was laying on a wooden stage, I could feel the roughness of the wood. I was naked lying on my back with my right leg raised, and the audience also to the right. At the time I was thinking it was so my genitals wouldn’t be seen. I couldn’t see the people, but I had an over whelming feeling they were just outside of the stage lights watching me. At this point the dream would change locations.
I was lying on an examining table in a room that was sort of like hexagonal but seemed to have more than eight walls; walls that I felt were plastic. This is a feeling that was so strong that it felt true then, and now. The walls were white and the light seemed to come from the walls in a defused way. The walls seemed to go up to infinity, but the light only went up about what I thought was ten feet. I had the feel of being watched, but I couldn’t see any one or thing. It was like an examining room and I was laying on an examining table. I cannot remember the table or getting off of it, just a feeling of being on it. After I left the room I was in a corridor ten feet wide. As I walked I would come to another corridor crossing at about fifty feet or so, sort of like a grid. I didn’t feel tired but it felt like I had walked all night, until I came to an oaken door with metal studs and hinges, like in some Fantasy story with Elves and Trolls. When I went through the door I would awaken.
During this time I worked for a company as a salesman, or rack jobber, where I would travel to the different stores and restock the shelves with the products the company sold. The first year I had a route that took me to Massachusetts and Connecticut one week and New Jersey the next. I began to collect owls, sometimes I would surprise myself by having an owl item without the remembering when or where I bought it. I had porcelain owls, ceramic owls, owls on calendars, I even had a gold chain with an owl pendant. This pendant was a little over an inch long and three-quarters of an inch wide; it was noticeable. I couldn’t pass a gift shop or store without checking to see if they had any owls. I had owls everywhere, but I hadn’t started a scrapbook – never did. This went on for about 2 years. There was a change to my territory; Pennsylvania was added and Massachusetts and Connecticut was taken away. I would fly to Jamestown, NY, and drive back through Pennsylvania. I was somewhere between Clarendon and Punxsutawney on a two lane road. I was doing about 60 when I saw a large owl drop out of a tree and head right for the car. I heard, and felt, it hit just above the windshield, but I was traveling too fast to stop. By the time I talked myself into going back, and finding a place to turn around, ten or fifteen minutes had passed. As I drove back at a slower speed I couldn’t find any evidence of the bird. I felt like I had passed the collision spot but continued on for a few more miles. When I turned around to continue my trip I still traveled at a slow speed. Never did find anything to do with the owl, nor was the car damaged. But I stop buying owls and began to get rid of the ones I had. The dreams went away. This was in the mid-seventies.
I get these feelings every now and then that I am being watched. But nothing comes of it. I have nose bleeds for as far back as I can remember, back to Miami and that barn. I always connected them with the migraine headaches I have had since I was about ten or twelve. They went away when I was about 25 years old, and now they have come back after I turned 45 or so.
We have lived in this house for nearly twenty years. A few years after we moved in, or about 5 years after living in Dobbs ferry, my second wife said she woke up one night and there were different colored balls she could see in the bedroom without any lights on. She also said there was a woman in the room. When she told this person that I was hers and she couldn’t have me the room cleared and she went back to sleep. I was not awake nor do I remember seeing anything like that since I gave up the owls.
I have no way of proving any of this. I don’t even know if I want to prove it one way or the other. It is just a piece of my life that I have lived with, making me some of what I
am today. I have been searching the Internet for a reference to owls since 1998 and this is the first time I have read anything close to what I had experienced.
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Dream Sequence 8 16/17 2006
In the dream I am with my wife. I don’t remember seeing her but knew she was with me. Before the following sequence there are bits and pieces of the dream that I can’t remember. It is disjointed images of hotels, hotel rooms, bus rides, large area with covered table for eating and bingo(?). We are in a car, convertible, with another couple on dirt/gravel road through an area like a gravel pit. It then changes once more and the other couple are gone.
We walk up to the back of a building that houses a seafood restaurant. There is an open area access by an arch. There were a few tables and at one was a black family of four. They were having fried shrimp, grouper and the Captain’s Platter for seventy-five cents, a buck and a quarter and a dollar ninety-five for what the people out front were paying fourteen ninety-five to twenty-four ninety-five. In the back right was a guy sitting, he had on an apron and a towel over his shoulder. From the back left came a voice asking, “How long have they been there?” The cook answered, “Seven minutes.” At the time, during the dream, I didn’t think anything about it, except that it didn’t seem like seven minutes. I couldn’t tell you how long it was, but it wasn’t a long wait like some waits are. At this point the guy on the left began to escort my wife and I to the front of the building. During this my wife and I were separated but I didn’t think anything about it. I awoke before going any farther.
The seven minute answer was on my mind when I woke up and it has bothered me since then. How could the guy know it was seven minutes? And not answer, I don’t know, a few minutes. Or, not long. Why seven minutes?
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First Impressions Versus First Meanings
When I read I find myself associating the words with my first meanings. I know each word has its own meaning but I find myself going with the one I got from the first time I heard the word, first impressions so to speak. As with individuals we only have a few seconds to present a first impression and probably less time for forming such an opinion for / of someone. I find myself going to certain writings because of what the title says to me in those first meanings. Sometimes I am surprised, but most often I do not get the exact meaning the writer was going for. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I go to writing because of the writer, and the first impression I made of them, with my first reading. I once took this writer’s piece apart line by line based on what I got from the poem. It was not a critique, it was done out of an experiment, a workshop, to show each other what the reader read and what the writer wrote. The concept is based on a writer saying she did not enjoy readers telling her what they got in the reading when it was not what she wrote. She felt she was straight forward in what she wanted to say in the choice of words she used. It goes back to first meanings. What words mean to each reader. As an example, there is a car company here that has three letters for its name, but when I see this word I do not think of cars but what those three letters mean to a US Army infantryman from the Vietnam era. Even though I do not always get exactly what the writer meant, I do enjoy the read.
