Dream Choreography

[Michael Barwell]

Michael, do you make a detailed note of these dreams - in a sort of dream diary?

Fairly detailed, yeah; some of them are simply scenes, some are choreographed, some are conferencing real-time 2-or more ways, I'm sure. Some of them are very fleeting, some are 'harder' set; it's SOP to wake me at the tail end 'cos otherwise I forget pretty much instantly, if they register at all. That last one - there was no way of knowing by the actual in-dream about the SAS thing, that's a notional thing that I don't know how it's added, surely those 'whispers', but I suspect 'whispers' can be audio or visual, actual 'whispers',or like tv subliminal single-frame things, or a very faint words, like the indoctrination ticker tape type 'dream' I've mentioned that comes across as 1 shade sub-black on a black background, scrolling across the vision.

I make a note of 'DC' in the margin which is 'dream choreography', 'David Cameron', or daaft cuunt'; it's usually the former, sometimes the latter, but not yet the middle. I have quite the collection of them. Happens maybe 2-3 times/week, up to 3 or so each time. Lately -months-wise, it's been simple scenes. These days it's their incongruity or 'messageful' nature, or confrontational aspect that's the reveal, now that they're not knocked-up on HL2 SDK. This mornings was a simple one; 1st, some message about explosives and a book; this I suppose is likely to be one of my books on explosives, except that it's a book on industrial dyestuffs with another jacket on it, the result of a 6th Form 'prank' of simply stealing a book from the library - a pal of mine nicked the other, and we swapped dustjackets. That would be fairly typical for the shitehounds, anything goes for the win. Then came a simple sign in black and white, similar to a street sign, simply saying in caps "The Man Who Left Forever" with a precisely synch'ed siren in Duke St at 1pm on the dot. Like I've said, I'm sure what they do is this - the same button sends the mind insert as sets the siren off; if you consider that, and what a shitehound could do with it, it's quite the b/s-tard tactic/technique - it instantly 'guiltifies' and smart-arses at the same time, as well as eyes-and-ears-and-inside-your-mind-and-taking-the-piss-on, in one. The repetition is the consequence of severe & pbsessive derangement, and likely many hands making lite-work. They want me to join ISIL, ffs. John Keriakou was on BBC Hardtalk last night; I got the ref via apophenic stroppy door slams to "I'll be sorry for the rest of my life that I did it" (standard fare there - self-refers to deranged fantasylands of self-appointed superdooperheros & more - they spin a yarn so often that they believe it, it's what gets the shitehounds the gig), same to "Fair & appropriate" - self-justification for being directly comparable with the shite of the turd reich, and near the end he says "an inability to infiltrate foreign terrorist groups", hence the sheep-dipping and silver-bulleting of ppl the shitehounds consider convenient to brainwash & instill dissociative disorders into and at some point, to home a "Hellfire" at (I've mentioned their "Knickebein" before, but I've also recently realised their "Lorenz" is the same thing, hence all the bloody "drones", tho' that has the 'added', of also meaning 'zombies' - those in receipt of ELF signals and 'whispers'; I know their ways quite well). Thing is, this has just hardened my mind considerably; having references to all this stuff literally 24/7/52/4.5 and the "suicide" guff of abject failure, is quite tough, 'til 'you' realise what and who it is who's doing it - who looses sleep over a hands-on-Hitler name-calling them?

This was an interesting one, for which I got ref's to "monk" afterwards and since; "The most complex dream; Victorian 3-storey with basement terraced street of houses; a girl leads me into a house and up the stairs into a furnished room, I look around, nothings happening, I turn to the stairs and there's the girls mother(?) in a very skimpy see-thru' negligee with one leg up and open on a footrest; as I pass I give her a kiss on the forehead and continue down the stairs, into a bedroom with an ex of mine, standing, bent over a bed, semi cloathed, facing away from me; I approach her, cup her boob, hug and greet her, and give her a kiss on the back of her neck/shoulder. End. This was odd as I knew who she was, without any visual cue of hair or form or cloathing, either a trick or an assumption by me. After this I got a couple of "monk" pisstakes.
If you watch the film Inception, there's a bit in it where a fella (as I remember it) goes into someones dream, and morphs into another fella, as per a disguise. This dream I had was a girl, chatting to me, "It's not like we've actually done anything to you - yet", windmilling her arms in the sense of enormously and demonstratively over-acting, way too effusive, not comically, just up her own arse. I had a weird impression with this dream. There was just something odd about it. I half assume it was Ben Everhart/'Lockmat' as the girl."

That [size=12]"It's not like we've actually done anything to you - yet" is very much a theme, it self-justifies; I mentioned the (synthetic-) trigeminal neuralgia to 'Ben', who instantly replied that "I've heard it's not dangerous, just incredibly painful" - so, not dangerous. It's that same distancing from precisely what they do - torture-to-murder. That much pain for 180days straight, knocks a person [click], 'preps' them.
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