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Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
08 April 2009 @ 10:42 am
"Nothing was the way Alvin Miller Senior thought that it would be. He'd imagined shooting his musket at the same screaming savages who cut up and killed his boys. But the city turned up empty, and they found the Reds all gathered in Speaking Meadow, just like they was ready for a sermon from the Prophet. Miller never knowed there was so many Reds in Prophetstown, cause he never seen them all in the same place like this. But they were Reds, weren't they?
So he shot his musket all the same, just like the other men, firing and reloading, hardly looking at whether his shot hit anything. How could he miss, them all standing together so close? The bloodlust was on him then, he was crazy with anger and the power to kill. He didn't notice how some of the other men were getting quieter. Shooting less often. He just loaded and fired, loaded and fired, stepping a yard or two closer every time, out from the cover of the forest, out into the open; only when the cannon got moved into place did he stop shooting, make way for them, watched them mow great swaths through the mass of Reds.
That was the first time he really noticed what all was happening to the Reds, what they were doing, what they werent doing. They weren't screaming. They weren't fighting back. They were just standing there, men and women and children, just looking out at the White men who were killing them. Not a one even turned his back to the hail of shrapnel. Not a parent tried to shield a child from the blast. They just stood, waited, died.
The grapeshot carved gaps in the crowd; the only thing to stop the spray of metal was human bodies. Miller saw them fall. Them as could, got up again, or at least knelt, or raised their heads above the mass of corpses so that the next blast would take them and kill them.
What is it, do they want to die?
Miller looked around him. He and the men with him were standing in a sea of corpses-- they had already walked out to where the outer edges of the crowd of Reds had been. Right at his feet, the body of a boy no older than Alvin lay curled, his eye blown out by a musket ball. Maybe my own musket ball, thought Miller. Maybe I killed this boy.
During the lulls between cannon volleys, Miller could hear men crying. Not the Reds, the ones still living, huddled in an ever-smaller mass down toward the river. No, the men crying were his neighbors, White men standing beside him, or behind the line. Some of them were talking, pleading. Stop it, they said. Please, stop it.
Please stop. Were they talking to the cannon? Or to the Red men and women, who insisted on standing there, not trying to escape, not crying out in fear? Or to their children, who faced the guns as bravely as their parents? Or did they speak to the terrible gnawing pain in their own hearts, to see what they had done, were doing, would yet do?

It wasn't just a whimper behind him anymore. It was a shout, from more and more men. Stop shooting! Stop it! Put down your guns!
A bugle sounded. The men fell silent. "Time to finish them, men!" shouted Harrison. He was on a prancing stallion at the head of the meadow, leading the way down the blood-slick hill. None of the farmer folk were with him, but his uniformed soldiers formed a line and came along, bayonets fixed. Where once thousands of Reds had stood, there was just a field of bodies, and maybe a thousand, a ragged remnant, gathered near the water at the bottom of the hill.
That was the moment when a tall young White man ran from the wood at the bottom of the hill, dressed in a suit too small, his feet bare, his coat and waistcoat all unbuttoned, his hair wet and tousled, and face grimy and wet. But Miller knew him, before he heard his voice.
"Measure!" he cried. "It's my boy Measure!"
He threw down his musket and ran out into the field of corpses, down the hill toward his son.
"My boy Measure! He's alive! You're alive!"
Then he slipped in the blood, or maybe he tripped on a body, but whatever happened he fell, his hands splashing into a river of blood, spattering his chest and face.
He heard Measure's voice, not ten yards away, shouting out so every man could hear him. "The Reds who captured me were hired by Harrison. Ta-Kumsaw and Tenskwa-Tawa saved me. When I came home two days ago, Harrison's soldiers captured me and wouldn't let me tell you the truth. He even tried to kill me."
Measure spoke slow and clear, so every word carried, every sound was understood. "He knew all the time. This whole thing, Harrison planned it all along. The Reds are innocent. You're killing innocent people."
Miller stood up from the bloody field and raised his hands high over his head thick blood running from his scarlet hands. A cry was wrung from his throat, forced out by anguish, by despair. "What have I done! What have I done!" The cry was echoed by a dozen, a hundred, three hundred voices.

From - The Red Prophet, by Orson Scott Card
A soul lesson worthy of the Bene Gesserit.

I think to be so brave as the Native Americans were in this story, one has to believe that what one truly is, Spirit, is immortal. This story also reminds me of the many brave men and women, and even children who died a witch's death, at the stake, or a heretic's death and taught the world tolerance. I think the greatest army is an army of consciousness, an army of great minds and wise tongues.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
- William Shakespeare
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
17 November 2006 @ 10:08 am
This morning I dreamed I was looking at a frontspiece in The Arabian Nights and saw an illustration of smoke comming out of a jar/urn. It evolved as I watched it, or when I looked away and then back. It was smoke comming out of a jar, then pink plaid smoke with a mouth open, then there was a throne at the end of the smokey mouth that was pink fur, then finally I saw it move and a pink genie descended to the throne.

I called my mother to look but had to tell her what was happening.

Right after I was on the set of Wizard of OZ and Catherine Keener was there. I was watching her, and she was investigating something, like her role in the interpreter.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
14 November 2006 @ 12:08 pm
In one dream I was a black cat

In another I was Lucius. I had to go into an empty, theater, alone and at night, and when I entered I turned into him. Then he was there too, and we made love, because we were each other... sort of Narcissa-istic.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
16 May 2006 @ 07:48 am
I dreamed quite a long time about Michael Caffee and his family last night. This is Jason's new character on the Showtime series, Brotherhood; which hasn't even aired yet. There were repeated scenes where I had to pull or talk them into comming off of the train tracks because the train was comming. There was some sort of low self esteem factor in this situation.

I also was moving, and I had my things mostly moved when I realized we needed to build a new house at the spot, because moving the old house was not going to work. It would fall appart, and the distance was cost prohibitive as well. I was trying to convince Tony we had to build anew, but he wasn't seeing it.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
15 May 2006 @ 06:48 am
This morning I dreamed that all the people of the world had divided the planet between the peole who had penises, and the people who didn't, your birth sex didn't matter. If you didn't belong on the penis side of the world you just had what you were born with removed. I lived on the no-penis side (obviously) and knew a person born there who didn't have a penis so much as he was a penis. He was well loved and didn't wish to go over to the other side, and so he was allowed to stay. In sympathy my friends and I organized a penile suport group. Which just goes to show: if dreams are comuncations from spirit the point could be "lighten up!"

I really did dream that. I also dreamed Albert had come back into my life as a stalker, and planned to murder me. When we finally had our showdown he weighted 300 - 400 lbs; but I won and he went to jail and when I saw him again he was barely alive, just a emaciated and contracted child-sized... thing. The jailers said he had lain on his side and stayed there doing nothing, eating nothing for his entire term.

After this I dreamed the people I was with were building a globe on a track in the sky that would travel west so quickly it would always stay on the sunny side of the earth. It was suposed to house criminals and the sun was thought to be a punishment, but the criminals didn't think it was.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
02 May 2006 @ 08:24 am
I dreamed I was talking to my husband (I'm single) and was telling him that we should continue to write our stories and poetry because that was the secret to staying alive indefinately, always challenging yourself and evolving. I said after we tired of writing we might enjoy promoting our work by seeking to publish, and that it didn't have to follow a "muggle" "formula for success" pattern because we were going to live for a very long time and didn't have to rush our lives as they did.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
01 May 2006 @ 06:58 am
Just recall spots of my, almost continuous, dreams last night. Traveling in a car. Being underwater, and my ex was there. Something about the way stuff in this box exploded told the man I was not the person who he had thought, and he now had to kill me. It all had a very infrared feel.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
26 April 2006 @ 08:18 am
I dreamed I was on an African adventure. I recall elephants, but not much of them. What I remember most was a journey to a city by "airboat" (a cross between a skiff and a flying carpet). We were under attack, and there were explosions in the air and on the skyscrapers around us. The woman with us kept saying that when we got to her place she would put on a feast for us, and especially mentioned crab quiche. But when we did get there the man in charge (Jason Isaacs) said we couldn't eat, I think it was to keep us from being sick as we would be continuing the journey soon, and were under attack.
I remember there being a window ledge with three parts so that the outer, damaged part could be, and was being, disposed of due to damage. It was just unclipped and tossed. There was a girl climbing on it but the people getting rid of it weren't worried about her and she ended up not falling anyway.
It was a higher seal adventure, of the sort I have started to recall lately.
I recalled how I met the man in charge of the journey, and this part was in infrared I think, as it was all brown and dismal. I had left ship before him marching into the interior, the "darkest heart" of Africa. The ground had been making waves, like the places where mosses have made it possible to walk on the surface of a lake, but the waves were big and all the trees were tossing as hill size waves rolled under them. I waited beside the path and those who were with me went on ahead leaving me behind. I waited for him, and he came soon enough, finding me beside the path. It was a sort of "damsel-in-distress" thing. He came on a ship, and marched at the head of his people, traveling up from the coast.
The last thing I recall was that a rich man had come and had hired him, and bought me. We were both demeaned in our divinity by this and yet had allowed it to happen. The rich man was making him a hat, and had made a small white thing, but Jason wanted something with peacock feathers in it.
Most of this is adventure and really defies my ability to convey the richness of. The first part is likely third heaven/visible light realm. I think the third part is a metaphor for how my soulmate and I have journeyed, that I came first, but when the going got too rough in mass I waited for him and we journeyed together. Typical me, needing someone to hold my hand from time to time. And the last part details where we are now, more or less, our divine nature sullied by male and female forms of enslavement, recalling Terry Pratchet saying some forms of slavery are worse, because they are in the soul of the enslaved (as fear).
Peacock feathers = all seeing eyes
Sea Food = See food
Wavy land = frequency in mass
Throwing away the third ledge = resolving an attitude pertaining to the lowest seal (because it was the outer-most, the largest, and at the top of a skyscraper/phallus. The attitude is exemplified by the girl balancing on it.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
23 April 2006 @ 10:32 pm
I had another of those super technicolor dreams. First I saw a TV showing the vid game Aeon Flux, and there was a guy pleading with the girl to have a relationship with him. They were on the edge of a cliff and she was trying not to fall off, but he seemed not to be worried. the store I was, and it was, in was very super real, but the TV picture was duller and badly animated. Then at the back of the store I saw Charlize Theron as the movie Aeon Flux (I have never played this game or seen the movie btw), and she was vibrant in white (though all the trailers I've seen she is goth) against a blue back ground. TM comes in before I have shut down all the pages I have open and almost sees what he shouldn't but is distracted by Charlize. Which is fine by me.

I also dreamed something related. Something had to be cleaned up and I had various helpers to assist me in doing this. One, who had to carry the heaviest stuff was a guy named Hassan and was like the Hassan in the Bugs Bunny version of Aladin's lamp. He carried three things, one of which was a stone ball...

A Flux is a shedding of the old. To call it "Aeon" flux makes it sound like something that has taken a long time to shed, which fits in with my need for helpers and feeling something needed cleaning up.
Allijah *Isaacs' girl*
21 April 2006 @ 08:46 am
Last night I dreamed that I was telling myself that I had chosen to forget something very important, for the sake of survival. I had chosen voluntary amnesia, rather than be killed by the people whose secret I knew. I was on a dock by an old tramp steamer.

Earlier I saw (and this was certainly in another dimension, because the color was brilliant) the queen from Snow White, only her crown was way beyond beautiful. And I saw her amazons, who were like a Mucha painting. They were in a castle setting up some sort of operation and already there were people come there from the area to complain. I thing this all may have been the thing I wasn't suposed to remember seeing. It was a sort frame by frame review and I had to rewind the whole thing to see it clearly.

I really think this was a third seal "dream" and that my neocortex tried to supress the memory, as it is an odd experience, and was an uncomfortable dream, that could threaten the neocortex's idea of enhanced survival. Sort of discomfort = threatened survival.