One note about Christmas. I wish to keep Christmas in my own way. Christmas is the time of the year when I most want to be alone.
Incredible Journey is a book that Sheila Burnford, Canadian author wrote about three animals that trek across Ontario to relocate their masters. Locales have changed with adaptations and film versions of this story over the years. Don't be surprised if you see Noble Films doing a cartoon adaptation of this.
See the difference? I now have a 32" AVEiS flatscreen HDTV. This television with the crispness and screen size really adds a movie theatre feel to this room. A 32" flatscreen HDTV turns a pit into a paradise.
I decided to visit the pool just to do a somersault and backflip. When I got there, the diving board was not opened yet, so I just swam regularly in other pools, in the shallow wading pool, breaststroke, treading water, dog paddle, etc.
Finally, the moment came. I did one set of a somersault and backflip and then I saw that I had not turned on the camera yet. I turned it on, and did a second set of flips recorded here.
I am planning to go to the swimming pool and film myself doing flips every once in awhile. Doing something like that is good for the soul.
Like at every swimming pool, there were some sexy female lifeguards there. A lot more women will want to know me after seeing this video. I would like to score a real quality girlfriend, rather than the losers that I usually wind up with. A girl from the middle to upper class. Young; around my age, and rich.
As a coach, I would say that these flips are unacceptable. If they were on the ground, if I were doing a somersault, I would land on my ass, and if I were doing a backflip, I would land on the top of my head and knees simultaneously. This reminds me of that Bruce Willis movie where the bad guys screw up the airplane's altimeter so that the azimuth read a ground level much than was the reality, so the plane's computer landed thinking that the landing altitude was lower. That is sort of what happened with my diving board endeavour. But as flips of themselves, they are not too bad. Not bad for someone who is nearly 40. Martial arts masters of the Shaolin temple can do flip like this into their sixties, if they practice yoga.
I posted these videos, martial arts dance, somersaults, yoga, drawings, artwork, so that people could know me as well as I know me. Before this, I was the only one who knew for sure that I could do these things.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009, 7:15 pm _________________________________________________________________________
This is a drawing of a black and white photograph of the hotel that was once in Vancouver. This hotel was demolished over 70 years ago. An old hotel. This hotel was demolished brick by brick, plank by plank, in a controlled demolition. I hope that CBC does a documentary about this old hotel, although only just a few photos survive. This is going to be part of the set design for Seize The Day, as this is the hotel that the main character, Tommy Wilhelm lives in.
*************
In the original Saul Bellow novel, Tommy Wilhelm goes to a funeral on the way to looking for Tamkin, but he never does contact Tamkin. In this version, it ends with Tommy Wilhelm calling his wife on the phone, a conversation, and then the wife hangs up the phone and it is a nice day outside. In either version, Tamkin is not contacted so I thought it would be redundant to reconstruct the funeral scene in Wilhelm winds up not being able to contact Tamkin anyways. In virtually every movie made about a book, fans will complain that the movie left out parts of the book. A Simple Plan, the film was totally different from the book. In the popular new movie, Twilight; New Moon, there are fans who say, "The movie left out parts from the book." Stanley Kubrick got letters like that from his movies. I got a comment on one of my YouTube videos today, November 31, 2009, to the effect that one of my videos had left out parts from the book, and that the images seemed randomly connected. That is what the weekly movie reviewers on the News say about just about every movie. So much so that one could say that a career in film making is not complete until you get a "your-movie-left-out-parts-of-the-book" letter. George Lucas once said, "There is no such thing as a finished film, there are only projects that are walked away from." He should know, in his 1977 movie STAR WARS, he left out parts that were portrayed in the Dell Ballantyne paperback novel STAR WARS which HE actually wrote! So, I am in distinguished company.
Update: I think I will try to finish this cartoon with the funeral scene ending featured in the novel.
Look, I am, as something that I am setting out to do, only going to upload my one hour or one and a half hour movies onto here in half hour segments. If you want record it on a DVD yourself and string it together that way, as I have made no DVD copies of my movies. These things are always fragile. One accident in whatever form, one disaster and the entire copy of DVDs are lost. Besides in about ten years, all computers will be using blue ray or something like that. I already uploaded my videos on Vimeo, YouTube, etc. But since I have made no hard copies of any of my films, I will ask as many of you out there as possible to make a DVD copy of your favourite Noble Films movies. For me to upload an entire one hour version of the movie in one unbroken loop is redundant and takes a lot of time and computer space. If you want a version of this movie in one unbroken loop, use Windows Movie Maker and make a copy yourself.
The movie Barry Lyndon had an intermission. The television miniseries don't bother to do the story in one unbroken loop because you would be looking at a 12 hour television program. They do a 12 hour story, one hour at a time. I am doing one hour, one hour and a half stories, a half hour at a time.
I plan to do the next movie Seize The Day, in two half hour segments.
Animal Farm is like an insect with the inevitable three segments, part one is the anterior, part two is the abdomen and part three is the thorax.
I wonder if the expression, "You look like you have seen a ghost." applies here.
First, I sang Ruby Tuesday. I was astral projecting like crazy, flying down a street, the lougheed mall bus loop, but then extending to broadway, between boundary and rupert in Vancouver, as I was flying, I was singing Ruby Tuesday. I woke up singing it, and rerecorded it as soon as possible here after awakening so that a trace of the ethereal, a trace of ectoplasm, is still on my voice.
Me, on the morning of Saturday, June 27, 2009, right after I astral projected again. I "woke up" I mean I saw my bookshelf next to my bed, but knew that I was astral projecting again, because it was vivid but I knew I was not awake, I looked over to see if I could see any ghosts, remembering that when you astral project, you will see ghosts because you are on that frequency.
I saw something, all right:
I woke up screaming.
Usually, when I have these kinds of sleep paralysis incidents, I let out one long solitary scream. This time, it was a series of short screams, like five short screams. This might be an important detail.
Typically the vivid astral projection sequence where one recognizes that one is in one's own room, coupled with temporary sleep paralysis, followed with the primal scream upon wakening and reconnecting with one's body is what I call the Breakfast Combo.
At the time, I knew that I could go further but I did not want to spend too long outside of my body in case I could not find my way back. "You don't want to go too far. You don't know what's out there." that was a line from the movie Apocalypse Now when Martin Sheen tells Frederick Forrest not to venture too far out into the jungle to pick mangos. When I was astral projection, I looked around my room and saw the door. What if I walked towards the door, passed through it, and see what is on the other side. However, as a ghost, if you pass through a door, it presents itself to you as opening a door like ordinary, but you have walked through the door, once you did that, you did some taboo that a normal fleshly living person could not do, and what is more than likely to happen is that one will see the pink screen of death. Nuff said. At the time, at the edges of my mind I knew that I could walk further if I wanted to, but decided to return to my body immediately.
but I remembered faintly reading the story that a psychic wrote about someone who hanged himself. He hung himself, a suicide, he walked out of his body and tried to get back in, but he could not get back into his body. Typically, if the body is not otherwise compromised, a person should be able to get back into their body. There is not a year that passes now, that I do not get at least one of these kinds of episodes. The will to live is the panic knowing that one should get back into the body as soon as possible. If a person does not have the will to live, they will go out of their body, recognize it, and out of some underlying mischievous instinct, go further. There is no time as such in the Fifth Dimension, but there are events. The more events, the more time one has spent out of their body. Anoxia sets in.
When I return to my body, there is that Primal Scream because then, I feel that every single nerve and nerve ending has been quickly slid about half a foot down a medium grade of sandpaper. Anyone who has gone through this will know what I mean.
Now, I know that the soul survives bodily death. I am an old hand at this, as this kind of thing has happened to me before.
Astral projection is a form of molecular displacement and just like jet lag, after astral projecting and waking up, even if the astral projecting was for a few seconds, I always feel like I have just come from a long trip. Teleportation machines, I am sure will have a post teleportational phase, where the physiology has to readjust, like a kind of jet lag.
When I am at that state, I could have been asked, "What is your name?" and I suppose that I would have said, "Dean Noble..... but in this condition, what does that mean?" In such a spiritual state, one could easily be linked to the past world of the dinosaurs or the future world of STAR WARS. Such a disembodied pure spiritual state of the soul surviving death, a temporary stroke, a clinical death, an irregularity of the EKG as it presents itself on this side. On the other side however, one 'awakens' but the spiritual state presents itself as an SPOV. First one is playing a video game which is a visor cam, or SPOV. It takes some time to get used to, one goes into playing the video game saying, "I am turning on the SPOV camera, and then now, I am playing the video game." Later, as one gets used to it, one just simply says, as it were, "I am now playing the video game." without saying, "I am going to turn on the SPOV first.".
This is a very mystical experience, but a very ordinary and common experience at the same time.
I know that this will happen again, just like the humour of a certain skein of some particular specific individual coworkers, the kind of jokes, the coworkers and the job in question always being incidental, it could happen at any job anywhere on the planet. Anyways I know I have not seen the last of this. I am scared that the next time I fall asleep, I could leave my body again, the next time I might die. In the Simpson's Homer Simpson had a thing where if he fell asleep, he would die. He only had one day to live, it was supposed. Marge Simpson was upset saying, "Oh no, Homer could die the next time he falls asleep." And Grandpa Simpson said, "Welcome to my world!" This is what this reminds me of..........
Kellogg's Pop Tarts, just pop out of your body. The usual normal dreams are like a normal book. A dream with an OBE is like a pop up book!
To set a good example always, of course, I must advise that any psychic event this major must necessarily have a physiological corresponding condition. ECGs or EKGs don't have to have wires. One can do an EKG* reading wirelessly, and from a distance and I would be interested to know what my EKG reading was that day. My guess is that I flatlined for a couple of seconds. What I am trying to say is that, this isn't a case of, "Ho hum, what a pretty dream." I think I had a fucking stroke or a heart attack or something and I am going to my GP, my doctor and say, "The other day, I had an out of body experience. I saw my room vividly, and recognized it. I experienced sleep paralysis and I woke up screaming. My guess is that I had a stroke or heart attack and it is very common for hospital patients to report these kinds of experiences under extreme physical duress. This may be the sign of something deeper, more systemic like a palpitating heart or heart murmurs. Should I wait, or should I go immediately. Mind you, the other month, November, I did experience sleep paralysis like this. It was night time. I recognized my room. I did not look around, I only looked in one direction, I only looked in one point, or at one point. I recognized the steady yellow, hazy, stupid light of the 60 watt lightbulb overhead. Then the sleep paralysis. I woke up screaming, but it was only one long scream.
Uh, I don't think that Robert Monroe is the first person to know about this. I dare say that people of all cultures have some people who know about this, and some people more than others, and such people have existed for, like, thousands upon thousands of years. In the Ancient Egyptian days they had experts in OBE. The Egyptians referred to the soul as the ka.
One more thing, there are two drugs which I know of, which are particularly powerful for dream recall. One is ginkgo biloba. The other is nutmeg and hazelnut. On the occasion of last November I drank nutmeg coffee and these days, I have been drinking hazelnut coffee. Hazelnut and nutmeg is powerful for bringing about the feverish OBEs or out of body experiences, and ginkgo is good for lucid dreaming, ergo nutmeg and hazelnut is the more powerful.
The guy who lives downstairs from me coughs loudly and often and I found it annoying, but since I am prone to OBEs, this could very well be a good thing. In Buddhist mythology, there is the story of a lioness named Simha whose roar brought her dead cub back to life. That is, as usual, a Hindu allegory of how sounds could bring a person back into their body from an OBE, and/or the sleep paralysis that often accompanies that. He has since died.
*ECG ElectrCardioGram, or EKG ElectroKardioGram: heart monitor
Coincidence: Within a week of this happening. I just turn the channel on to Coronation Street, and right then a young woman in red dress was sitting on a chairwith her legs up on a table, at an outdoor cafe. That is a sign that I got it right.
I see my friend Tess from work. I follow her. At the middle of the block, on the West side of the street, on the Southwest corner of Princess and Georgia Street in Vancouver. She just bought some crack and was about to smoke it with a friend. I follow her up stairs and into an alcove, like a workshed. She was wearing a white puffy jacket. Curled hair. Can I have some too? I said. Of course, she said. I look at Tressy. I think I am feeling normal now, I won't feel so good after I smoke the crack. I probably won't like Tess afterwards, if she smokes the crack, and that is whether or not I light up also. Her friend, a Native guy shows up. They light the pipe. I see a ball point pen, and at one end, was the white piece of crack, held in Tess' mouth, which Tess lit. They smoke. First Tess, then the Native. Then I walk out of the shed closing the door behind me. Hippy, South America, I don't smoke cocaine. Then the three of us were at a house. Tess and the guy just smoked some crack. Then me and Tressy teleport to the next room, a living room. I said, I don't like smoking crack. The coming down part is the worst. Then Tess said. That was a downer. I don't like that. Why don't you get out now? Get out, buggerboy. I thought my suspicions that I would not like her on crack are confirmed. What did you call me? I was walking out the back door, looking back into the room and saw Tess, she said. Buggerboy, your father broke his leg. Then I went back in. Why did you call me bug? I said angrily. Then I said to her angrily, "Bug, B J*, Boaz Ja-in, the freemasons." The Native friend who was with her, telepathed to me, hey what's up. A little angry, but not totally angry.
I left out the front door this time. The stairs of the Strathcona Elementary school, not the corner stairs the stairs directly outside the front of the building, at Keefer Street and Jackson Avenue in Vancouver. I am never going there again. I walk through, thinking. I know now what I should have said to her, I should have called her boring, a waste of time."
Then I see a large swing, at the Southeast corner of the street that is one block North of Broadway, and two blocks East of Oak Street in Vancouver. Then I stand up on the swing and holding the chains, I recall the whole event with Tess. At least I am not there now. At least I am free now. At least I am here now and in my element about to play on a swing. I swing up high, turn around look down on the ground and the swing plummets again and then goes into an upswing again. I sing the song, in the dream, under my breath, Smoke on the Water. They all came down from Montreaux........
*I was trying to say that the word bug was, I felt to be a secret reference to the pillars of Freemasonry, Boaz and Jachin. The g in the word bug, lower case g, if you take away the 'o' part of the letter g, you are left with j. I would not be writing this, but that it appeared in a vivid dream......
Interpretation: I should not get to know this Tess too much. Any path with her, followed long enough will include the occasional smoking of crack cocaine.
I can't make heads or tails out of my dreams. That's precisely the problem. Heads or tails are things of the third dimension. In the fifth dimension, heads or tails are irrelevant. A lot of it is wordplay.
On a bed, with a lamp on a stand made of the same material as the walls is on the left of the bed. I am making out with a dark haired lady, fat, in her 40s. She is taking off her clothes. I say to her, "What about your husband?" She says, "He is not coming back until 7:30." I sensed that it was 11 in the evening as she said this.
Then I had a shower with a young thin blonde girl. Naked in the shower, I grab her breasts from behind.
Later on, at at dining room, I see an open door and some people leaving. I thought it was maybe the dark haired girl, but then to my surprise, the young blonde whom I just had a shower with pokes her head into the room and waves "Hi!"
This is a sketch for an idea for an animated cartoon which I am not going to do. It is called 5,000 Miles to Neverland and it is about a group of Michael Jackson impersonators who rob a bank. However, that idea has already been used, that is why I am not doing the cartoon.
Since anything is possible with cartoons, as in the picture above, Michael Jackson makes a cameo appearance as a fast car driving, gun toting vigilante. You can see the gun on the dashboard.
I plan to do at least one more film with Wesley. My idea for the next film is me caving into the modern Hollywood standard. Instead of making yet another erudite art film, I am going to make movie about a coke dealer and an undercover cop. Either me or Wesley will be either the coke dealer or the undercover cop.
I will go to a toy store and get some fake guns. The thing is not to film with fake guns around anywhere that the Police might be. If they see people skulking around with fake guns and meanwhile the director is saying, Run around outside that store with the fake guns like you are about to rob the place. We will do the interior shots later. I will be across the street and doing a zoom shot. Well, shit like that is an example of what NOT to do when filming.
The Greyhound bus can or can not have something to do with it. That would be nice, the narrator buzzing on about how the coke dealer is coming into a small town wanting to flip a bag of coke. The cocaine will be bag of Robin Hood flour in a ziploc baggie. The coke dealer arrives at the bus stop. Meanwhile the undercover cop is already waiting there because somehow he knew that the coke dealer would arrive. How? Well that is what I am going to have to figure out in the next few weeks. Know that this story of the black guy getting a conscription letter was one that I had to turn over in my mind over the last few weeks. Over the next few weeks, I will have to think about the details about the next story. I should try to see if I could get Robert Portman and anyone else involved with the project too. Intro, coke dealer, and undercover cop. Plot advances: The dealer makes a few deals at the bar. The undercover cop watches. Climax: A gunfight. The undercover cops shots the coke dealer. Like Miami Vice. Filmed very quickly and discreetly. I work fast. The entire video of Drafted, the principal photography was completed in less than an hour. Resolution: The streets of this town is awash in crime. It is up to the vigilance of the Drug Squad to keep dangerous drugs like cocaine off the streets.
This could only ever be called martial arts inspired because anyone who actually tries to use these moves in an actual streetfight will be in real trouble. After years of being weaned on MA movies, monkey see monkey do, or else monkey style see monkey style do.
This is just a dance. A lot of dances use high kicks like the Irish riverdance, and also the old can can that the Alaska Yukon girls used to do.
These kicks are shoddy. I didn't even do stretching exercises before this, and wearing blue jeans.
....not bad for someone who is pushing 40.
These are not real martial arts moves. These are dance moves and also moves that could be used to resemble martial arts in the movies. Martial arts is a kind of Bertoldt Brechtian distancing device.
On a show named Breaking Bad, Walter White is a chemistry teacher who cooks up drugs in his spare time to supplement his income.
In this town named Dawson Creek, Walter Wright was a pioneer. And in this town, there is a theme park named after him.
In this village, there is old fashioned splendour in the form of rustic picturesque buildings which line the promenade. The wooden sidewalks which line this street of buildings from the 1800s brings to mind scenes from a lot of Westerns.
Original old buildings from the period have been transported here so that this theme park can transport people back in time to a much simpler and less electronic era. Some Churches, a fire hall, a blacksmith shop, and an old time school are amongst the architecture that is featured here.
It was snowing on this particular day, however this weather is quite beautiful and does add a kind of effect to enhance this documentary.
The Walter Wright Pioneer Village will be open for visitors for this year's summer tourist season.
Before I go on, the next film project will be megaprojects. I am planning to do films that are at least an hour in length. When the chapters are all done and strung together for the final result along with the credits, and any musical segments, the result can be quite spectacular and amazing.
"There is no such thing as a finished film. There are only just projects walked away from." George Lucas
I decided to abandon Ape and Essence for the topic was too dark and I did not want to dwell on such dark topics for the necessary few days or weeks required to do a one hour cartoon.
The projects I am going to do are, Animal Farm; George Orwell, A Simple Plan; Scott Smith. Cartoons at least an hour in length, possibly two hours. This will take weeks but when it is finished, it will be something.
During those times, I can pay the $10 a month to upload videos onto megavideo which would accept videos that are an hour or more in length, and vimeo and CWEBtv. I would upload them onto YouTube only in chapters, and only the spoken narrated segments, and not any segments that include music. Any music clips uploaded onto YouTube are done on a presumed basis that YouTube will remove the audio completely for the entire video, including spoken parts and other music.
The next cartoon, which will be at least an hour long, will not appear for weeks, maybe even a couple of months, but that is usual. A Hollywood director like Steven Spielberg would do a two hour movie, and he would typically take months, maybe even a couple of years. People are used to that. A film short of a few minutes every couple of days, that's just not the same in scope and grandeur as a one and a half hour movie every couple of months. A movie every couple of days?! With some two hour Hollywood movie projects, a couple of days is spent in just travelling to the set location alone! Which is what I am doing. When it starts out, it seems not very developed or evolved, but once the movie starts getting some legs.... the mid point is the most satisfying of all. When one is fully into the flow. The last part is just knowing that there is just a few strokes left. That's all. A bittersweet moment. Then back to the primeval nebulous uncertain point of being at the unevolved start of the next film project.
At Main and Hastings outside Carnegie, someone, Lee Donahue needs to ride the bus to Granville. Why don't we walk to the bus stop outside where you actually live, outside the Four Sisters Social Housing CoOp there is a bus stop. He says, no we can ride the bus from Main and Hastings here, that will take us to Granville Street.
At Granville Street, walking South, at Granville and Dunsmuir, the road is blocked, construction wood horses blocking the road. A makeshift wood fence. Lying laterally, running from East to West, is a brown, rusted steel path. Road severely under construction. I walk along this rusted steel path going West and just into the department store, The Bay. I think, "If I ride the 8:30 Greyhound bus back to Dawson Creek, I can get there in time for work tomorrow. But it has to be the 8:30 in the evening bus, because if I ride the 8:30 in the morning bus, that would not work, but maybe in the dreamworld, I could perhaps get away with riding the 8:30 Greyhound bus in the morning from Vancouver to Dawson Creek."
Watching a movie at a movie theatre. The others in the audience, I am thinking, "They will be watching an animated cartoon with a cartoon animator present, me.!"
Later, I remember getting ready to board a plane, and then later, actually boarding this small plane getting ready for another trip to Vancouver. A girl who was with me earlier in the movie theatre is there already on the plane. I get on and sit in the second row, in the centre. The girl is sitting to my right. Then all of a sudden to my left, a Mexican guy just sits besides me. I can feel his shoulders next to mine, he is a big Mexican, wearing a puffy black jacket and a big mane of black hair, seen only from the back.
Southwest corner of 108th Ave and 13th Street in Dawson Creek. I look out the front of the window. Country roads, a yellow grain colour predominately colours the landscape. In the distance, driving from right to left, is a truck, Wright's Food Service, and when I look, I see Denny, the truck driver. It is actually Denny!
At Vancouver, I start walking. I go to a Library. At the Library, I see a barebreasted Librarian, reddish brown hair, young beautiful, with small perky tits, so perky, they were conical. Nice round red nipple and wearing yellow shorts.
I wonder whether I should leave so soon since I just got here. At the Southwest corner of Carrall and Cordova. Sensing that it is about 4:20 pm then, and that just a couple hours later, at 8:30 pm, the Greyhound Bus leaves. I lamented the quickness of the trip arriving to Vancouver, resenting the much longer and much more grueling return trip on the bus ahead.
I am in my hotel room at Main and Hastings, watching porn.
I wonder if I should walk on the beach, Portside Park beach, since I have just so much time in Vancouver, which is not much.
At a high school walking down the hall. I see a red haired girl teenage student, long red hair wearing blue-grey sweatshirt. "The last time I was here, these people were in grade 9. Now they are in grade 12. Oh well, that's normal."
Walk into the last classroom down the hall, on the right. In the classroom. I say hello to Laureena, telling her this is the last time I will ever see her. I say hello to Selena too.
Then into a downstairs urinal I was at before. I had some money with me. There are two people already there. A guy who said he was from El Salvador at the toilet stall to my right, and another guy, a janitor, behind me, but right outside the toilet stall I was at. When I leave the El Salvador guy asks me for my money. I tell him to fuck off and run outside. There is another guy, Native, pockmarked face, black shaker knit sweater, he asks me for money. He has big hands. He pushes me backwards. We fall on the streets, and fight. I push his hands, holding a gun towards him. I push his hands, his hands are losing the gun is pointed upside down at himself and the gun goes off and he shoots himself in the head!!
Walking up a hill with some friends. Walking uphill but looking downhill a car races fast downhill. Car accident. Then a police car with flashing blue and red lights races downhill after that car. On top of the hill a friend crosses the street. Boing from SE to NE corner of the street. No its not that way.
A friend finds a toy model truck, only the back part, a rectangular piece of plastic, hollow, painted white, blue stripe and then red stripe bordering it. And there is a small black switch. The truck is going whoo whoo whoo, a police siren sound as it is a toy model of a police truck. And as my friend flicks the small black switch to the side, the whoo whoo whoo sounds turn off.
At a Vietnamese Sunday Church service. Narrator narrates "Vince, the long lost son who spent years in a group home is present. The mother who was missing for 30 years is here. And the adoptive mother is here as ever." All of these are Oriental people.
Driving down a street, resembling Prior St going West. I Narrate, "I have been here before, on a trip up North to Prince River. Prince Rupert was close to this very small settlement. The houses which the White people live in are painted white and the houses that the Natives live in are painted blue. There are also some brown, natural wood coloured houses, square natural wood tiled houses. In the North the houses all wind up looking like this as this kind of architecture is really common up here."
Dream Saturday June 6, 2009
I was at a room where there was my father's deathbed. A hospital room. A nurse is there. I am at the foot of the bed. I could not see my father, he is lying down flat. A nurse is at his right side looking at him. Dark haired, Oriental nurse. Young.
I speak to him, "Dad, I love you." He sat up, as if he was using an adjustable bed. His face was red and bloated. He did not look good. He said, "This is the last time you will ever see me." He turned over to the left.
I said, "Dad, recline on your right side! The Buddha, the Tibetan Book of the Dead says to recline on your right side!" He rolled over to the right side, and said, audibly, "Thank you."
A Skunk. I get a skunk in a wire metal cage also two guinea pigs a male and a female. Later under the blankets, I look for the animals. The cages are together. The male skunk has bitten the male guinea pig in the guts. Messy, splotchy purply round blood stains on the guinea pigs belly. The skunk is about disembowelled, I see light green gelatinous guts with curls. The female is standing off to the side, as if it, being a female was simply above doing something like that. I decide to release the skunk. I look in the room, oh no the skunk cage has teleported to just the right of the door and has the wire cage meshdoor open. I open the door of my room and go into the hall. The skunk follows me out. I go out through the back door. I release the skunk out side.The skunk chases me, I feel it's front paws at the back of my pants as it is in a standing position, pawing at me. I fly back up onto the railing and into my room. I look out the window, people in an alley. "A skunk!" "It's there under the truck." another person says.
I fly around. I was at a place with some Chinese people there. All kinds of people I explain about the skunk. My Philippines coworker Case and his European girlfriend are there. They say that they need to spend the night. This was the party to celebrate my first night in living in a two bedroom apartment. I feel uncomfortable. Some Chinese ladies say that I am old and that I smell, although this reminds me of a line from Stanley Kubrick's Killer's Kiss.
I fly out of there to somewhere else. Up the street. Flying, laughing. The I remember to go back there and ask about something, probably the skunk. I go back to that area. I ask someone "Where is the strange Church?"
At one point, a dog chases me. I thought of the skunk. I fly up a small hill. On top of the hill behind a cement fencepost and a chainlink fence that guards an alley between two houses. I see the dog run up the hill and leap onto the fencepost. I fly backwards and I see that the dog can fly too! As it flies at me!
At an apartment room. My apartment room. Different. Along Fir and 11th in Vancouver. I look out the window. To the Southeast was a large brick apartment building, corner building. On the North side, two large windows, two of a set were lighted. Otherwise, all night dark.
Flying some more, though neighbourhoods, I am narrating now, knowing that my moving physical, not dreamworld, mouth and words will be heard in the real world on the other side. I am flying, flying, ha ha ha, through neighbourhoods. I fly though a yard, right, then I see the side of a house, left, then through a solid wooden fence gate, and then right and then left and then right again.
I see strange vehicles on the road. One of them is a red van with a World War Two german jeep grill, Mad Max, but all red, windows black, on the driver and passenger front windows, and no other windows. In front of it, as if it were pulling it was a much smaller cube car, also all red.
Narrate, I am flying at Napier and Commercial. Then into a house. Narrating, flying. I see some people from the party earlier. I fly towards the front door, linnoleum floor, small red and yellow and orange sesame seed shaped specks in a thin black outline. fly back into the house, I see two black people, one moving in from the left to right, profile, Jamaican, tall, in profile, I can see the light accentuate his body, especially the abs. Dark kitchen room. Light coming in only from another room to the right. And on the kitchen counter sitting down, and wearing a khaki olive canvas army jacket, was the black guy King from the movie Platooon.
I fly out the door, this time it is pitch black night outside. I fly upwards going straight up. Nope. Still too black and I can see the house, thin light lines accentuating it slightly in an otherwise totally pitch black night. This scares me. I remember the microthought that I thought at the time, "I know the dreamworld well, I am used to Spring mornings, or at least some kind of light. I have never seen this pitch black before. I don't think this is good. I also remembered at the time, that it is a very important thing not to let fear enter into this; do not show fear." I go to the front yard fence of the house, at the left fencepost as I am walking back into the house, I open the door and see a slight light, the same light.A living room pitch black, behind the living room is a dining room, where the Jamaican and King the actor were this room also dark, and to the right of that is the lighted kitchen where the party and the people were. Anyways I look in for a second.
Then back to the left front fencepost. I have to wake up, this is a dream, I have to shake myself awake. I don't want to be in this pitch black night near a house full with strangers whom I don't even know.
At a bookstore, Northwest corner of Cambie and Hastings, I walk up the stairs to a set of double doors. A hallway stairway. I turn around and say out loud to the people shopping down there. "I am in Vancouver now, but I am going back to Dawson Creek tonight on the plane. I am always saying that in my dreams! Windows opening to a view of Hastings Street at Cambie. Cenotaph corner. In the main floor of the bookstore, empty except for few boxes on the floor. Support pillars. At the back of the store, an old man bookstore owner sitting behind a large desk. I walk to him and tell him that I am indeed going back to Dawson Creek tonight.
I walk down the street, Prior Street in Vancouver, going West.Light, magic hour, around 9 pm in the summer, dusk. North side of the street. Four blocks before Gore and Prior, I am walking. I hear a voice yell "Dean!" I look around. A male Chinese voice. I look again and I see a former high school student leaning out of a window. I say hi back to that person.
Walk down the street more. A couple of guys walk onto the street to say hello. Gays. One guy is white, brown hair, blue jacket. Stepping out onto the street, was the other guy, if you could call it that. A transvestite. Chinese, he had a crew cut hairstyle and he was wearing a thin silver necklace with three or four silver rods hanging from it, each rod spaced a couple of inches apart on the necklace, and a gold brocade dress. Little gold squares altogether forming a dress. I say hello to be friendly, but I walk on, shuddering, thinking, visiting Vancouver, the astral version of Vancouver or otherwise, you would run into people like that.
Across the street, the South side of the street, I see a bunch of Chinese girls from high school. They appear to be older than high school, early twenties. But the thing is, these people presumably still alive today, would be my age, about 40 years old. One guy is amongst them. I see them and they see me but I thought while in the dreamworld, pretty much what I think in the waking world is that knowing those people again would be a regression. They sense my hesitation of them and hate me for it. Then I reach Gore street, as the street arcs North.
At one point in the dream I remember walking down a mud path, like a construction worker's path, orange things in the road, my thoughts, "I wish I had a couple of thousand dollars so then I could go to Thailand again. Bangkok knows how to protect Chinese people from the Chinese tongs."
Note: In the dreamworld you can run into all kinds of weird characters. You must be fearless to describe them.
After death, one is a spirit like a whirling dustcloud, flying from this location to that location where a single thought can send you to the other side of the planet. This is from the Tibetan Book of the Dead. They certainly knew a thing or two about astral projection and the nature of spirit in the spirit world.
I tend to wander around aimlessly in my dreams. Shamans know the dreamworld so well, they know where they want to go in advance. It is like a ship where just a slight turn of the wheel gives way to the most violent turn to the right or to the left.
The mind consciously thinks of a place that it wants to go to, but within that thought, there are ten subthoughts about ten different places which one does not even realize because it is in the subconscious, but guess what, one goes there!
Note: I am not using megavideo anymore. You can not upload videos onto their site unless you pay. My videos have not been appearing on megavideo even after I uploaded them. There are tons of free video uploading sites.
Dreams of my friend Mark Roy, since he died in May, 2002. The video says 2003, yet, come to think of it, he died in 2002 in Vancouver.
The first dream I had of Mark was in the summer of 2003, a couple of months after he died. I was in Thailand at the time. Mark was at the Royal Bank on Main and Hastings; Me: Mark, you are alive. And you look well. That means you haven't died. Mark: That's right. Me: That means the trip to the hospital wasn't real and I can see you and again like before. Mark: No...... In another dream, me and Mark, shooting cocaine, sitting at a table. In another dream, angry in life, angry after death, Mark and I are in a room. There is a mattress on the floor next to an open doorway. Angry Mark says, "It's under the quilt!!!" I look and find a white plastic tube about seven inches in circumference and telescoping in one place. It is liquid cocaine, and then there is a leak and water erupts out. The way Mark said, "It's over there! It's under the quilt!!!" That's classic Mark. Mark Stanley Roy.
I see my friend Mark Roy. He died in May, 2003. In the dream, he is wearing a thin sporty windbreaker jacket, cut up into three large flourescent colour swathes; white, pastel reddish purple, and pastel blue. Mark walks with me, intimating that he wants to do drugs with me just like old times. I remember thinking in my mind that, too bad I don't do still have the bag of ecstacy, because I could get Mark to trade that for some crack, then no, I don't really want to be smoking crack, and I don't exactly want to be talking with Mark, either. So I start flapping my arms and flying up, remembering that I am pretty good when it comes to flying and astral projection. Mark says, "That's right, Just start flack, flacking away." Although I think he said, "Yeah, that's right, just start flapping away."
Tuesday, April 29th 2009, the day after making the video Mark Stanley Roy, I guess in general, I must be thinking of Mark. This morning, hazy sleepy, in a dream state, I casually thought of Mark, and I thought the question, "If I am a loser, should I kill myself?" I heard Mark's voice say, and kind of angrily, "Not now....." Not "Not now...." as in don't commit suicide now, "Not now....." as in don't even be asking that question now! Which was exactly how he used to talk.
I had to record the video to show exactly how he said, "Not now!" Angry, snarky, Marky.
Also, telepathically, I got a little bit of, "....as a spiritual guide, or your friend from this side of the dead, you are at a stage in your existence where you are not supposed to ask questions about death like this at this time."
Maybe also "Not now, for Christ's sake you are about to wake up!"
Narrator: One day, at the zoo, a Rhinoceros escapes from his enclosure.
Narrator appears: The rhinoceros goes on a tear through downtown London. The rhinoceros on his rampage kills a couple who were the parents of a ten year old boy.
Narrator: This boy is sent to live with his Aunts, a fat one called Sponger, and a thin one called Spiker. If he is not sent to the basement, he is not able to stray beyond the yard of his Aunts.
One day, he saw a magical green worm. This worm gave James a white paper bag full of dancing colour sparkles. The worm said, "Whoever eats these sparkles, a wonderful thing will happen to him, but be careful, the magic will work on whoever eats the sparkles be it human, plant, or animal."
James ran back to the house. He tripped. The sparkles fell out of the bag onto the ground. James thought, I am sunk.
That evening, a strange plant grew in the garden.
A giant Peach.
A line up forms around the fence of the house as Sponger and Spiker charge admission for people to see the Giant Peach. "Terrifico." Aunt Sponger cried. "Hallelujah" Aunt Spiker said.
That night, James walked towards the Peach. A hole appeared below the peach, a faint light glowing within. He climbed up the hole of the peach and in the distance, was a door.
He opened the door and saw the most incredible sight. He thought of Howard Carter the Egyptologist. What do you see? The most wonderful things.
What James saw was a roomful of the most wonderful and at the same time, the most hideous beasts. He saw a gargantuan grasshopper, a spider, a ladybug with nine spots on her scarlet shell, a centipede, an earthworm, a silkworm, and a glow worm. Of course glow worms are never worms. Glow worms are lady fireflies without wings.
The Peach rolled down the hill.
The Peach rolled into the ocean. The peach sailed in the ocean for a few days. The group sat outside, on top of the peach. That is when they began to notice sharks attacking the peach.
"I have an idea." James said. We need to get the spider to spin some web. Then we have to lasso the rope, like a cowboy around the neck of one of the seagulls."
When enough seagulls have been roped, the Peach began to fly away. It flew above the ocean, like an airplane, it flew above the clouds and they encountered a strange flyover zone where there were cloud men. These strange celestial beings of cloud seemed to dance in the ether and then they pelted the peach with hailstones.
The Peach flew on to a city. At last, the Peach rested on the spire of a building.
Airplanes flew around the Peach, and the heroes appeared above on top of the Peach. The next day, they were on the front page of the newspapers.
Years later, James as an old man greeted people at the front of his house, which is the now withered seed of the Peach whose flesh had long been eaten or otherwise rotted off. He greeted visitors who visited the museum. Visitors were offered a cup of tea when they entered the museum. And they were always shocked at what they saw for sitting in the chair was the last surviving animal and that is the grasshopper, now very old. But otherwise alive and greeting visitors.
James and the Giant Peach is a story in the Roald Dahl series of after he decided to become a writer of children's books. He started to write when he was a boy. However, he wrote his first novel about his experiences as a pilot during the Second World War. Later on in his life, he reinvented himself as a writer of children's literature including as titles such luminaries as James and the Giant Peach, Danny the Champion of the World.
