You ask me: – What a fabulous past you tell! How do you know all that? Very simple indeed. I travel in time, it helps. I go and see there and when I made everything clear, I go back. Carlos Castaneda showed me the way, I practiced. I was lucky enough to traveling through the distant past for years.
Sorcerers can never build a bridge to reach the people of this world. However, if people wish to do so, they must build a bridge to join the sorcerers.
I knew how to do that since childhood, well before discovering Castaneda and nagualism. I dreamed every night and especially and I remembered it in the morning. Thus I noted a multitude of dreams, sometimes translated into poems, songs, comics, for my own pleasure. This beneficial practice boosted my gifts of clairvoyance and time travel. It also allowed me to stay very childish at 76 years old. Thank you Carlos. Thank you Life!
When something bothers me, I go there. I watch the scene, better: I see it live. With all my senses at once, including the subtle ones, those that allow me to travel in time. The hallucinatory past that I am telling you about, those in my genre know it well, and the most crazy, science comes there!
I will see the future too. Lightning journeys. There are many risks in traveling to the future. Total extinction of the human species, for example. If I have the misfortune to fall into it, I will not come out alive. Might as well walk on eggs with a feather instead of feet. That’s why I chose the journey on the wing of scalar waves. Just overlap these waves like Muhammad overlapped Buraq. Scalar waves are not subject to time. They go faster than him, or slower. And what they make us see is infinitely more convincing, more real, more disturbing than the story of school textbooks, sleepy because it’s bogus.
I went to see a lot of things. And I am far from having told everything. In my dreams, I take other trips of which I have no memory upon waking. One day, by chance, someone tells me about an approaching fact. So suddenly my memory comes back to me. I live the whole scene as I experienced it in a forgotten dream.
We live thousands of dreams every night, perhaps millions. And it’s indeed the devil if we remember only one when we wake up. Do ièch. Life is like that. None of us can collect all our dreams. He would be the new Einstein.
The more I discover, the more I marvel … The more I marvel, the more I bow … The more I bow, the more I discover ….
Tesla, no doubt, had a good part of this great power: the memory of dreams! All that we are, we have in the unconscious all the knowledge of the past, present and future of the totality of the multiverse. It’s enough that a small snippet is not erased by our brain-cop-robot, and poof!
Here is the new Tesla that will rebuild the tower of Wardenclyffe !!!
The only ‘scientists’ who work on our dreams are these guys of psych-anal-ists. It’s the anal side that makes ièch. Normal, you will tell me, it’s made for. Maybe, he said dreamily. There are those who dream of funny shit.
I don’t like science. I don’t like boastfulness. I don’t like modesty. I don’t like the approximately. I don’t like rigorous accuracy. Rather, I should tell you what I like, the list would be much shorter.
You write to me often. You always give me compliments. Why? Are you flirting with me? It’s a lost effort given my great age, there is nothing left to draw on the plan of love. No? Is it something else? What then?
I had the misfortune to ask you that in 2009, you never answered me. Now I shut my mouth whatever they tell me. And sometimes, one person out of 33,333 shows me an aspect of themselves that interests me. I tell myself I can do something. Open the door that blocks. Help him to grow, to bring in the light.
Every man in his night goes towards his light.
Not mine, that’s not it. The great light, that of Gwenwed, the White Light. The one that shines deep in our hearts like the stars at the bottom of the northern sky. The stars of the Very Great Bear, Ursa Major ...
Sometimes I meet someone who touches me and whom I touch. Rama was one of them. Ana was one of them. To these two, I have woven endless garlands:
The Mother Goddess and the Great Goddesses of antiquity, properly forgotten, while their reign lasted for tens of millennia and their influence modified everyone’s consciences and behaviors, all around the big blueue marble.
“The large number of women’s statuettes as well as the predominance of female representations over male ones in the Paleolithic underscores the importance of women within hunter-gatherer societies of that time. It is incredible to think that these statuettes in the similar style have been sculpted over such a vast geographical area (from the Pyrenees to Siberia) for more than 20,000 years.
“We are dealing with a symbolism that transcended a particular place and time and that was perpetuated in environments that had nothing to do with each other. Archaeological evidence seems to indicate a widespread and well-established trend towards valuing women in the Paleolithic period.” (National Geographic)
Verses 1 to 5
1 They are black and yet beautiful, these giant ladies.
2 So beautiful and so great that we all fell to our knees.
3 Their skin color is beautiful like dark honey, precious like ebony.
4 Being their daughters, we have the same skin as them, of the same color, but less shiny.
5 We are proud to be like our star mothers.
I am black and yet beautiful, will say Balkis to his beloved Solomon, of divine origin just like her, and black in skin too. These are the very first words of the Song of Songs, attributed to the poet king, the magician emperor, the grandfather of Beta Israel*, the flying demigod. But written by an anonymous racist long after the reign of the great king.
*Ethiopian Jews or “Beta Israel”, or the “Falashas”, are Ethiopians of Jewish religion or their descendants. According to their traditions, they descend from the tribe of Dan.
Racism had already gone through it, for Balkis, Queen of Sheba, to apologize for her skin color. It is not Balkis who speaks like that, it is a white editor who adds: Yet beautiful! And if we find this ‘yet beautiful’ about the Giant Ladies, it’s still a white copyist who made his own mistakes.
At Rama like Ama I spun endless garlands, it’s the truth. Infinite because I’m only at the beginning. I don’t say everything, not right away, you never know: in the case he — she — protects me so that I keep talking about him … about her !!!
There are periods that I prefer. And elders who speak to me more than others. I reincarnate on this planet not clear for myriad lives. I don’t know how many lives nor for how long. No idea. sometimes a new chapter opens, ancient or future or so lost in the dark night of time that I cannot tell if it is a very distant past or a possible future…
The pasts are all hypothetical, for the good reason that two contemporaries never experience the same present. Same, the travelers of time do not all live the same stories. How dare we talk about History? As if there was only one!
Everyone knows their own, but ignores everything about those of others… apart from a dozen people we have met, dated, and whom we think we know! The woman who has been living in me for years told me everything about her for ages, and yet what do I really know about her? Nothing. Or almost. Everything fades away so quickly, cities, seas, mountains, borders, peoples! Then an individual, think about it!
I am not at all secretive, I willingly indulge myself, I recounted a thousand pages of my past life, narrated a hundred thousand ideas that I have, described dozens of desires, dozens of desires, fortnights of behaviors that I had or dreamed to have… And despite all the attention you have given to these texts and the images that illustrate them, what do you know about me? If you were asked to create a Xavier lookalike, could you?
Obviously not. Take your husband, your mother, your darling child, do you think you know them better than from very far away? Man is an island and the sea is the infinite void. All worlds potentially exist in a single head, all the pleasures and pains in a single body, but who dares to say ‘I understood’? ” I know”?
Braggart, go! You know little more than me who knows that I know nothing. There is knowing and knowing. Received ideas and intimate, personal visions, never shared. There is the story that is told, and it says absolutely nothing about what happened. What happens to someone, their neighbor knows nothing about. The secret of intimate knowledge is inviolable. Because no one knows or can tell stories, even after 27 years of neo-Freudian analysis. ESPECIALLY after that…
You think you know yourself, but what do you know about yourself? The dreams you have, you don’t remember any. One can only hope to know people after their death, because at that moment only their life is complete, definitive, traceable, analysable. Who risks it? The mind is never the best means of investigation. Search with your heart.
This site tells about my travels and dreams. Am I sincere? Yes, as much as possible. Am I honest? With all my strength. Do I tell the truth? So there, it’s impossible to answer with a yes or a no. I try to do it, that’s for sure. But who can claim to have seen and understood anything from what they see, feel, perceive?
— Mmmmh! When you open the oven, it smells like fruit pie!
— Really? I’m cooking a roast.
…
When Hercules met Pyrene, he understood that he was no longer a hero, but a…
There is nothing left on Earth, human, animal or vegetable. But elsewhere? Beyond?
If you think the riddle is cleared up, are you sure you understood everything?
In Quebec, the old-time lumberjacks transformed their canoes into magical planes
Nothing exists of all this fabulous mess, nothing at all, zero, not a single atom.