|| -------- -- -----  A E R I E   O B L I V I A N A . singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora ------------------- ----------- OSOAWEEK--ISSUE 057--8/25/95 <-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 5  ||  -------> (Cup OWis057, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN057OW]] [[01057CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 5 7 * * * August 25, 1995 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora INSIDE THIS ISSUE 01 057 CV--Cover 02 057 LA--Lord of Obliviana 03 057 NH--Nihilistica 04 057 SU--Superior YO YO YO! ATTEN-HUT! HEY BABY! YO, THIS IS IT! INFORMATION: OsoaWeek057, August 25, 1995. Published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement, obliviana@aol.com, 1-800-OBLIVIANA. All contents copyright 1995 Frank Edward Nora. This release is Predatorware--you are free to make digital copies, so long as they're not altered or sold. All other forms of reproduction require permission. You're Prey unless you get a Predator Deed for this release. Contact us for more on this concept. Check out Obliviana on the WWW at: http://www.obliviana.com/~osoa Character count: 69943 / Line count: 2011 *OW* [[02057LA]] Lord of Obliviana Sunday, September 17, 1995, 10:44:49 AM I've been taking a break from writing. And boy, did I ever need it. I felt like I was gonna have a nervous breakdown for a few weeks there. But I'm definitely feeling better now. September 17 already? Only about a month till Book Six! What the hell! Yeah. I've been working on some cool stuff. Like how the core of Obliviana is the Fonosta. Did I mention this before? I don't feel like looking back. Anyway, the idea is that folks get a Fonosta, which they can constantly upgrade, Monday, September 18, 1995, 9:07:48 PM Left it like that up there, dangling comma. Great new character name I came up with at Barnes & Noble earlier--"Heal Mayward". Okay. Today I began to focus my resolve and my impetus, to get this whole Obliviana thing going. Yeah, The Balbitype is also done. Well, all the letterforms are done--I still have to encode them as fonts. Another idea I've been working on called Storm Codex Casino--a card game you play with a playing card Storm Codex deck. It involves 8 different casino-like games you can play with the 30 cards of the Storm Codex, either solitaire or with others. Gotta keep working on it. Monday, September 18, 1995, 10:41:43 PM Not an easy time. Everything is up in the air. Met a woman whose job we did at work at Quakerbridge Mall and we exchanged WWW addresses. Man, am I wired or what? Yeah. Y'know, I have this burning hatred for the WWW and I don't know why. I just can't f*cking stand it!!! I kinda don't even wanna be on it anymore! I can't wait for That-Which-Comes-After-the-WWW! Now regarding the Fonosta concept--think of a Fonosta as a dossier to begin with--a file which contains a bunch of stuff. Especially, it contains a record of a person's achievements in Obliviana, and a whole lot of variations on themes. But here's the real key--Fonostas exist IN Obliviana--Obliviana the cyberplace, Obliviana in reality. Does this lead me all the way back to "What is Obliviana?"!? Obliviana starts off with the premise that by using 209 you can get to a new frontier. Is this the core goal of Obliviana--the frontier? I think it is. I think that everything else revolves around the exploration of 209. C18H21NO3. Chemical composition of codeine. Could be cool to use somewhere. American Heritage also has it for morphine and who knows what else. One things can be made to relate to another thing with enough stretching. My concern is justifying all the entertainment elements of Obliviana if the true core is 209 and the exploration of the Frontier. Well, here it is. It's the spirit of the endeavor. The spirit of discovering a new frontier and yearning to explore it. This is the Spirit of Obliviana. And there can be a whole lot of stuff done in this spirit. So your Fonosta is your essential tool in exploring the 209 Frontier. Much more than a Storm Codex, it holds the sum total of all your Obliviana/209 experiences. This is really fundamental to me--I always wanted my core endeavor to be something more than just an entertainment publisher. With this vision, I can now see my way clearly. The goal is the exploration of the 209 Frontier, with the ultimate goal of breaking through into the realms known collectively as Obliviana, and discovering what exists there. I do believe that the 209 Frontier exists. And I believe that it can be conquered. What lies beyond? I surmise that there will be very good, wonderful places, and also very bad, horrific places. But it will change humanity as we know it, should we succeed. So this is it. Monday, September 18, 1995, 10:58:35 PM now. I now have a clear idea of what's going on. Huh. This kinda does put me into the role of cult leader. Hopefully I have the sort of personality that'll convey that Obliviana is not a cult, but rather, a very wonderful adventure that everyone is invited to join in. Friday, September 22, 1995, 7:43:21 PM Obliviana Cut Super Occult Frontier Amusement. This is what I've been preoccupied with for the last few days--a possible name change for Obliviana. "Ocsofa", above, is making me strongly consider changing from "Obliviana Super Occult Amusement". But still, I have serious reservations. OCSOFA is wild. Sunday, September 24, 1995, 10:06:22 PM I'm at a very difficult point in my quest. I feel like my way is blocked on all sides. I have bills to pay, and money to pay them with, but I can't bring myself to pay them. I know I'm near a breakthrough which will get me going onto the next phase of Obliviana. The foundation. Establishing the foundation so that I can start to build without the distraction of total chaos. I've been thinking about Obliviana being a fictitious place, full of fictitious things. A place where everything--all music, video games, movies, books, magazines, comic books, stores, products, etc. are by Obliviana. The idea is that All these things can be created in facade, with some having actual substance, but most not. 209, as well, will be a super occult system in this fictional world. In this, my entire endeavor can be sheltered behind this layer of pretense. The place that is Obliviana is a cyberplace--an artificial world. I see it now as a campus of some sort--not an expansive anything-goes cyberpunk wet dream. But a reserved place, with characters. Yeah, see, my idea is that eventually there'll be a full-time virtual digital realm of Obliviana, where both fictional characters and real people live side-by-side. The cool thing is, the fictional characters will be going through their lives 24-hours-a-day, and users will be able to spy on them whenever they want, and also peruse "footage" of everything they've ever done. The place that is Obliviana will be a breeding ground for all sorts of intellectual property. The idea that started with Codingseed will continue here--zillions of logos, fake companies, fake fads, etc. Thing is, I believe that this "fake" stuff will start to become real. For example, I might have a comic book, called, say, "Piperspace". There'd be the logo, covers to a few issues, a team snapshot, etc. And that'd be it. Then, that Xappen would be ripe for growing in numerous directions--licensing of the name and logo, development of the property into a real comic book, T-shirts, Fonosta dec (decoration), etc. Huh. Is this the breakthrough? And what about the Super Occult Frontier? Yeah. Well, the Frontier will exist INSIDE the Obliviana place, fully detailed and delineated. Then, it will begin to migrate into reality via people who've experienced in "on the inside". Is there a sinister tang to this plan? The idea of creating something fictionally with the hope that people will recreate it real life--is there something wrong with this? Ah, I don't even feel like writing. But f*ck--Book Five of OsoaWeek is a total waste anyway, it was planned that way, so who gives a f*ck? So what's up? I feel like a big change is coming in my life. Right now, I think that I need a lot of money to get Obliviana going. But I have no sources. And money isn't even the problem--it's my own lack of drive. Yeah, right now I'm pretty low. I don't feel like writing. I feel like I'm at the bottom, but I know I'm far from it. What is going to happen? It's about time. I'm tired of struggling, of succumbing to chaos. If I knew this is where'd I'd be... back in the bright year of 1986... if I knew then that this is where I'd be... It's my total lack of enthusiasm of the Internet/WWW that's part of what's bringing me down. I don't know about all of this. I know that I have Obliviana Year One, but that means little to me in this mental state. What a joke--being human--you accomplish so much, but maybe lose the ability to appreciate your own achievements during that time. I'll be 28 in 9 days. Obliviana is no company yet. Right now, it's just a hobby. Damn, will I ever get past this? Why am I in this state? I used to think that these periods of depression were part of some grand scheme, but now I see that "grand-schemeness" is a sham. Everything, no matter how random, can be made to seem like a plan being administered from a higher plane. So what am I saying? I don't know. I mean, going through this mess is certainly making me a better creator, but ya gotta wonder, when is enough enough? I am writing now. But it all rests on my ability to kick myself back into gear. But my disorganization has gotten way out of control. I waste all my money on junk, my computer room gets to be more and more of a disaster, my bills are piling up, and I'm not even writing! It's the motive force. Between ME and my body is a sort of "middle man". I issue commands of what I'd like to do and hope my body responds. I don't like this. Cuz I'm telling myself to figure out my bills and I'm not doing it; there's resistance. So okay--all I'm proving is that I'm a mental case right now. Jesus Christ, if you've been reading my stuff you know I'm a total f*cking genius, with remarkable talent. So why am I so f*cked-up? For goodness sake--if I really am some superior being behind it all, why can't I break out of this rut? I know one thing--getting the first 52 issues of OsoaWeek done was pretty hairy--especially toward the end there. I pushed myself pretty hard. Is this now the price I'm paying? Why am I even discussing this with you? Are you interested? Is it any of your business? I don't know. But it makes me feel better to talk about it. I know people will read this. So at least I'm not just talking to myself. You, dear reader, are my therapist. Yeah, yeah. I don't know. I feel like there's this big thing holding me back. Big question is, is it a real thing, or just a mental problem? I don't know. To get into really bizarre territory, I think I gotta come to terms with what I was in previous incarnations. I know I have to at least become aware of it in order to go on. But I'm resisting self-knowledge in a big way. I've embarked in this direction on several occasions. But knowing what I was and turning back into what I was is too close for comfort. God damn, look at what reality travel powers have done to this entity me. Such evil have I committed before this lifetime, so many curses upon me by those I devastated. I guess the problem with trying to be good is that the resistance to guilt and curses has to melt away. Like it was all frozen, and it would all come back in a flood if I was to face it. The glimpses I've had of my true nature are truly frightening. Far too disturbing, some of it, to even begin to record here. But look at me. I am human and without powers. I'm trying to do something good. And in my life now, I AM good. So maybe, this depression is a means of keeping everything frozen, of keeping me from facing my previous existence. If so, there is no way forward without facing my true self. Guess that's what I have to do.x Saturday, September 30, 1995, 1:12:42 PM Okay. I think that I'm back from the void. I feel much better now, after a few weeks of rest. One thing though, I'm still struggling with the the idea of a new name for Obliviana. Right now, I'm at "Obliviana Cup" which would have the slogan "Super Occult Frontier Amusement". The idea is that the containers of content I've been calling Xappens and various other things would now be known as "Cups". But still, I don't know. I wonder how late this issue is? I mean, it's been done for weeks, but I haven't cauterized it into finality yet. 36 days late? Who knows. Who cares. The Fifth Book is a total disaster. But I must retrench and prepare for the next assault on success. One factor in all this is my current total hatred for the Internet and the World Wide Web. I can't stand it. But I know I have to carve out my own niche on these grandstands for mediocrity. The average person is not very interesting, not very talented, not very intelligent. With the Internet, people who have nothing to say are given a means to say it. This drags the whole thing way down. Okay. So right now, I'm at the planning stage for my next campaign. But what is it to be? Much as I hate to admit, my next thrust must be on the World Wide Web. I wish there were another way, though. But maybe there IS another way. Why, though? What's REALLY so bad about the World Wide Web? Good question. I guess the main thing is being associated with all the crap on there. Also, since a Web page is something anyone can have, you're viewed as being just another nobody. Plus, there's so much stuff on there that's just the WWW page for some other sort of entity--a company, a club, a band, etc.--that it's extremely confusing. So what do I want to do? I want to do electronic publishing, but can I do it without the WWW? One of the principles I've established for Obliviana is that I am creating CONTENT--CONTENT which can be adapted for any sort of medium. So I don't want to tie myself to the WWW as the sole medium of Obliviana. But, since Obliviana must be manifest in SOME medium in order for it to have any commercial value, isn't the WWW the best place to start? Sunday, October 1, 1995, 11:37:07 AM Blew my first smoke ring a little while ago. Smoking a corn cob pipe with some Captain Black tobacco. Huh. Watching an awesome movie, "Invasion From Inner Earth". Remind me to buy the rights to it when I get rich. Yeah so, it's uh--it's OCTOBER!!! Y'know, traditionally, the Fall, starting around the start of October, I guess, is when I start to become my most productive, creatively. When does Autumn begin? Is it already here? Guess it must be. If you watch that movie, "Invasion From Inner Earth", you'll get some idea how I'm feeling. Like being stuck in a remote lodge while the rest of the world falls apart. Huh. The indoor rain forest at The Mirage in Las Vegas comes to mind. Artificial nature. Is that a contradiction? Is man part of nature? Is a beehive part of nature? Isn't everything man builds also a part of nature? Ah--that's just semantics, just logic. Our word "nature" refers to the non-manmade parts of nature. I'm wondering, is there something important about Obliviana? That is, does it serve a higher purpose? Huh. Did Walt Disney's endeavors serve a higher purpose? I definitely feel an affinity with Disney. It was him, one person, who made it all happen. I've been reading Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged", and I'm almost two-thirds through it now. Huh. Just figured out that two-thirds of 1000 is 666. 666 times 3 is 1998. To me, 666 does not identify a person, but an event scheduled to occur at a certain time. The end of the world? No. This world will not end. I saw a cartoon on The History Channel before about Apollo Eleven, the first Moon landing. Sunday, October 1, 1995, 12:49:57 PM Gonna go out now. I've been thinking about the idea of Obliviana Cup. The idea of "Cups" as the standardized vessel for digital infostimulation. I think maybe this is the way to go. It's the beginning of October. It's also the beginning of the rest of my life. Get all Obliviana. *OW* [[03057NH]] Nihilistica ***APRIL '92 DREAMS*** Here's another raw document from my past--a bizarre piece of text, describing a period of weird dreams and events in my life. At one point, it gets confusing as to what's dream and what's reality. Kinda cool, eh? Here... Halfevil Document #356 April 92 Dreams by Frank Edward Nora printout #1; 4/15/92; 2:55 pm Document nascence: 4/15/92 April 92 Dreams I've been having a lot of cool dreams these days, but I haven't written them down in the computer. I do have a number of hastily scribbled notes I've made after awakening many times, without which I wouldn't have much recollection at all of these dreams. So let me just write as many of them down as I can find and remember, starting with the dreams I just had a few hours ago, during a midday nap. 4/15/92. These dreams sort of related to the death of Sam Kinnison, and there was an individual in the dream who died, but it wasn't really clearly Sam Kinnison or not. Basically, there was a house which was partially destroyed, andthe idea was that the part still standing was transformed to other uses. One part of the dream involved part of the house on a train type of thing, and moving through the countryside. People remarked at how they have always feared trains like that, which would smash into trees and down power lines and stuff, and there was an effort underway by the operators of the train to correct the situation. Then there was something where another portion of the house was used for something else. But related to this was a main part of the dream which was a weird volleyball game, in which the teams were related to this usage of the house. The relation was there, but no specific were given/received/detailed. It was in a big auditorium, and I was sitting in an upper deck right up to the edge, to the left, with my father. Going down the stands was nightmarish--like a weird horizontal tunnel turned vertical and stuff. I crossed over to the other side of the place and saw some players preparing to play in some little pen, and somehow they were slaves or something, and they were planning to escape. Then there was a closed food stand, and I asked a woman official there if there were any places to get real food around there. She said that unfortunately this town was mostly closed down on Sundays. I asked the question because I wanted to ask her something, anything, just to talk to her. It wasn't a romantic thing, just sort of a curiosity thing. So I went outside and found a pretzel vendor around the corner. He was cooking some pretzels which appeared to be made of raw meat. I went up to the stand, and the scale got messed up, and I was looking up at the guy and the stand, as if it were huge or I tiny. I told the guy I'd take a pretzel as long as it didn't have any animal fat in it. He seemed sort of amused and assured me they were okay, and I also got a drink. [in reality, I asked a waiter about animal fat in an apple pie at Nanny's birthday dinner in PA] Back at the game, I held a long thing wrapped in tin foil. It was the 3 pretzels and the drink all in one long tube shape. I tried to find my father, as the game was over, but going up to our seats, he wasn't there. So I asked a coupkle of people who I might've known from school, and they didn't know. Then I looked over to where the pen was and saw him for a second, then lost him again, then saw him, etc. The theory of the house and the dead person and using one part to make a team, and another for something else, was very pervasive in the dream. [it seemed representative of the general idea of salvaging what's left after a disaster to make something perhaps even better.) The next part of this dream involved Mom's Mercedes out in the driveway, and we wanted to fix it or alter it or something. So I used a little handheld device to "scale" the car to 200% so that we could easier manipulate tiny things in the engine. [it was sort of like scaling in Adobe Illustrateor, but this was in reality]. We did the thing with the engine and rescaled the car, and there was more stuff, like scaling chairs in the basement and watching TV and stuff in the basement. But it's all sort of blurry now. But the scaling thing was both fun and scary. From Balbi's: dream 4/7/92, 4/8: long hair again, mast, train I recall little from this dream. I remember looking into a mirror and seeing my hair shoulder-length and remarking that I officially had long hair again. As for mast & train, I have no clear recollection at this time. dream 3/29/92: Dux & Harmon I remember some of this one. I was sitting in some outdoor place at night and a lot of people were walking around. Maybe it was a school sporting event or something just ending. 2 of my high school science teachers, Mr. Dux and Mr. Harmon, walked by me, and I was myself of today, but I called to them and talked to them because I had some science question I wanted them to settle. I went somewhere with them--we exchanged some things--and that's all I recall. 3/30: Camera Hmm. Just one word: camera. Do I remember this at all? Yes, a little. I think I was in a movie theatre,andtaking picturesofthe screen. Also, we were exposing film directly to the outside or something. And it was that I had this new camera. [my brother got a camera a few weeks earlier for his birthday]. Okay, now on to the notes 4/14/92: Martinsville--H.S. elections--bike--from many suits--my weapon system? Well, this was just yesterday, but some of it is puzzling. I do recall being in Martinsville, and the streets were packed with people waiting for the highschool election results. I was rifing mybikback home, just passing the Exxon at the part I remember the dream began. The other part may have been as I was getting closer to Spring Run Lane there was some vision of various superhero costumes with various powers, or something. It's a few days later now. 4/17/92, 12:58 am. Yesterday, 4/16/92, Thursday, I went for very long and odd walk. Before the walk, I had a weird dream of a weird variety. Then after the walk I had another dream of the same variety, based on the walk. And before the weird dream,there was a more normal dream. So let me go through yesterday chronologically. First there was a dream of thenormal variety, that is, it happened like a normal dream. But after looking over the notes I made when I woke up, I see there is a strange aspect to this one also. [a sidenote here--if I hadn't written down an outline, I would have utterly forgotten this dream, even though it was so recent, which speaks to the weird relation of dreams and memory.) In this dream, I had to go back to high school (yet again). The teacher was Lorie Loebs [a real teacher I had in college]. At one point in the dream, I guess class was over and I commented to her how I always have dreams about going back to high school, but now it's finally happening. I commented to her that it's not as bad as I thought it would be. [note--in many back to high school dreams, I comment to others about previous dreams I have had, just as if it were in reality. That is, I am responding to iurrational situations in essentially my own personality). So anyway, the class was in Nanny and Nonno's backyard, and was spread far across the yard. I walked around and finally sat with a few people who I guess I sort of knew. With the people I was with, I made a comment sort of like wishing I had a calculator so I could point it across the yard, and it related to a videogame or something. I wrote down the name "Sam" relating to this event, but I do not recall the significance. After the class Loebs commented that she was happy I found some friends in the "Howard Stern fan clique", that I was able to assimilate so easily. Then it was later on and I was in NYC, with an oriental friend who was a mixture of Eric Siu and Yasutoshi Yamada. It was night, and I had been with him, and he was going home, and I walked on, and then I took off in flight, flying in the unsure way I have in recent dreams. Basically, I was flying, but it was difficult and unbalanced. I flew over the city, and then something very strange happened, the bizarre aspect I mentioned earlier. I was flying, and then somehow I became vaguely aware that I was dreaming, and somehow the irrationality of flying led me to enter the "real dream". What happened was that I sort of "woke up" from flying and I was in the front yard, lying face down in wet grass, my face totally in the grass. It was nighttime, and I guess it had recently rained. There was information that this was "the real dream", or "the dream behind the dream", or "what was really going on in the dream". I got up, and there was a large painted sheet metal sign sort of thing of a Monopoly thing--like a yellow and orange type picture of that Monopoly guy in a taxi or something, but in outline. I got up, and I felt very weird, but insulated from the potential terror of the situation. I walked around the house one th walk, and in the back, somewhere in the vicinity of the patio, there was something--very vague--lights, maybe a portal, or an answer or something. But that's all I remember. Also, I wrote down the word "curve", perhaps referring to the thing on the patio. Now that was a very strange event, to be plucked from the main dream into a different level, a "real dream". There seemed to be some intelligence narrating or at least giving impressions of what was transpiring. Also, when I took off in flight, I recall being disturbed or depressed, and taking off was sort of in response to that. Well, I woke up and wrote that dream down, and then I went back to bed--I remember it was 5 or 6 am. Then, until well after 10, I had a bizarre dream experience. I should preface this by saying that the nature of this experience, in its repetition, was similar to the sort of dreams I've had under fever, but it was certainly of a different variety. Basically what happened was that I had a dream, and then for a seemigly very long time, I continued to dream about the first dream, going over it again and again and again. Several times I thought I was writing it down, only to realize I was still dreaming. The dream itself was thus--it started by a lake, and I was with some friends, and it was also like a track & field track, and we found a tunnel underneath which went all the way around. So we thought it would be a good idea if a few of us were to go all the way around this lake/track in the tunnel. At first, I was one of those who stayed behind, and I think I was timing the effort. Then it was in the basement, and there were two tunnel entrances which we had discoered, one near the ash hole in the back room. It seemed that they were at opposite ends of the long route around the lake/track. At one point, we were scared that the tunnels might flood, and we were concerned at our lack of caution in this matter, being that the tunnels were unexplored. [this seemed related to the Chicago flood of this week]. I think it was raining and stuff, so we were concerned. Then I think I decided to go in after those who first went in, and then the scenario abruptly changed. Instead of going around a little track, which was a few miles (which we earlier calculated the approximate time of going all the way through for, and also, the original tunnels were cramped and people had to crawl), the tunnels were a wholly underground route which went up and down the east coast of the USA. I saw a map which showed the east coast, and saw the route of the tunnels. Then began my journey through the tunnels, which turned out to be a route linking underground malls, basements, steam tunnels, etc. I don't remember much of the journey, but here's what I do remember. I recall being in a mall or gallery type tunnel with a number of compatriots, and maybe things in boxes and delays and stuff. Then there was another part where I was sneaking through some weird factory basement or something, and I was trying to avoid Nazi-like guards. I went down into a secruity station area to avoid people coming from where I was headed, and I was looking up at them through the grating, and thinking I'd be caught any moment. Then I went up to a cabinet and got a gun or something, and maybe moved on. Well, I know there was more, but finally I saw the map again and got info that a few girls finally made it to Florida, where they found a bitmap of about 10x10 pixels, which I saw on the map, and which they were able to edit. So that was the final prize of the long journey--a bitmap! Well, that part ofthe dream did seem to last a long time, but then I continued to replay the dream over and over again in my mind, going through the various events, and being that there was 4 or 5 hours in real time, I imagine the dream might have lasted that long. And I was also drifting in and out of partial consciousness. It's hard to describe how weird a feeling it was. Now, I initally find some meaning this dream to be of a long secret journey, which in my true self theorem would make self. Also, I should point out that just recently, in the past few days, I have arrived at a point of feeling ready to reawaken my true self, which would amount to the end of a journey. But I also think that my new state of mind, or perhaps a transitional state of mind, might be causing these strange sort of dreams. Well, I woke up, and I had an urge to take a walk. The urge hadn't been there the day before--it just came to me. My plan was to walk down to the pool, then go back and walk along the stream to Newmans Lane, then walk up it, maybe go to Bagelsmith, and then go home. But after I made my plans I saw it was raining, but not wanting to be thwarted, I looked for my umbrella, which was nowhere to be found. I looked around for it for about half and hour, and even got the middle finger from my sister whwen I asked her about it. Well, at about 1:00 pm it had stopped raining so I decided to go without an umbrella. As it turned out, it was for the best that way. I had my steel-toed boots on, my grey coat, and my gray gloves. I walked down to the pool, and then along the stream. When I got to Newmans, however, I felt like contiuing on to Chimney Rock Rd. on the stream. So I went across, and got on the road next to what became the reservoir. At the dam there was a fence, but there was a big gap underneat, so I lied on my back and slid under it. My plan had been to then go on to Chimney Rock, and then to Miller Rd., up Vosseller, and then back through Martinsville. But I had wanted to go up on the rim of the quarry for a long time, so I walked down the road a little and then climbed up to the edge of the quarry. It was pretty cool up there, and the quarry was going at full steam, but there was not a soul up where I was. I walked along, saw some abandoned houses. I was followed by 7 hawks, who circled me ominously for a good while. I was a little scared of them attacking, but I felt with a string stick I could have fended them off. They didn't do anything but follow me, though. Then I saw a fox on the road pretty far ahead of me. He seemed a little startled, then ran away. After a while I got to the cross, the I went down, got to the road, ran as a huge truck was approaching, and got out onto the normal road, and got onto 22, with the intent of going to the mall. Then followed a long walk in the rain to the library (it had begun raining up on the quarry). On the back road to the library my legs were hurting, but I pressed onwards. I got to the library about 3:45 pm, and tried to call Mom or Dadfor a ride home, but noone was there. I read a MacUser magazine for a few minutes to rest up, then the phone was being used by an automatic door repairman, so I was over the minimall on the way to the mall, and called Dad to pick me at 6:00 at the mall. It was about 4:30 then. So I went to the mall, had some frenck fries, walked around, waited outside in the chilly windy rain, and finally went home with Dad, and then I went to sleep. I had a dream which I'll relate shortly, but I have to comment on how bizarre this trip was. I mean, I hadn't intended to go that far at all. It was almost as if it was meant to be. It certainly made me feel alive, walking along in the rain. It was pleasant and exhilarating most of the time. Even the pain in my legs wasn't that bad. I'm very happy I took the walk. But indeed it does seem related to the true self theory, and my waking up. One thing I should note about the reawakening is that just the other day I began to "feel" the space around me, which seems to be parts of my true self reaching into this world to rest in the here and now. Weird. So anyway the dream I had after the walk was of the area of the dam and the road around there, and it was very codified. Like, there were different people at different stationary locations arounf tyhe dam area, and each of them had a certain texture or color or something associated with them, and the dream was just a long series of going to the different people in sequence, and making different combinations and stuff. It was this complex set-up being demonstrated in numerous ways. And like the tunnel dream, it just went on and on, eventually becoming unpleasant. Again, these dreams were similar to fever dreams I've had, but of a different variety. So I still have a lot of previous dream to record, but for now I'll leave it at this. At this rate, having to record the dreams of each new day, I'll never get it all done. Man, even my hand and arms are sore from that superwalk. Night. 4/17/92--dreams from last night--one thing was a stadium in Chicago in the middle of the city, with huge buildings all around it. I guess there was something with it earlier in the dream, and then I saw an image of it, like maybe a little relief image on a souvenir or something, but I reacted to it as if it was an image I had known for years. There was a huge curved building (similar to the Grace Building in NYC), to the front, and to the right was a gigantic sign on a building across the way, I guess a sign for that building,but the sign was 3-dimensional, and architectural. Then it was in the basement, and I had these little clear plastic cubes which could be pulled apart like photo-cubes, and I was putting inside them the various aspects of Obliviana, which would eventually fit together like a puzzle to form one big image. [this is a very apt image, since putting together the puzzle of Obliviana is what I've been doing in reality for years now.). Then there was a foil type of thing I unfolded and was gonna put in a cube, but then I was on a streetcorner doing it. Across the street was a guy with a few stuffed animals talking to a woman and her young daughter. He said there was a Broadway show where she could see more of these stuffed animals, and he told the mother she just had to call a 900 number for more info. He said the call would only cost 50 cents. The mother came over to my table and as she did she said to the guy that if it was only 50 cents she'd call the number, but the guy said to her there were some additional charges involved and the call would cost $18 and change. I whispered to the woman that it was a ripoff. The guy came over and I asked him to produce any piece of literature showing that there was a show like he described. Then a phone rang between two buildings--not a payphone, but a normal black wallmounted phone. I wasn't gonna answer it, but the ripoff guy said to me "Well, aren't you gonna answer it?" but I didn't, then he answered it, and he then handed me the phone, and it was my brother, John. Apparently, I owned a comic book store, and it had been robbed recently, with all the money taken from the register, but nothing else missing. So my brother told me he had some suspects for the crime, because he worked with some seedy characters somewhere. I talked to him for a little while, going up and down some stairs. That's about all I can remember. Oh yeah--I asked him why he didn't just call he store, which was down the street, but he lost the number or something. *OW* [[04057SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 329 So good you had to do it again. The delicious swerve of infidelity, even better as a hint. Lost in Manhattan, you're not cool. Barrage of baloney music. Just wanna go to sleep. This is not the 3 AM I know. SUPERIOR 330 Doton. Dontad. Ilmp. Vast, am I going mask, these are ruinous tossings in bed, hearing psychic chanting--what is screwed. Being beyond all this. Sudden silence and a coldsnap--the thrill in her face--and another in a tuxedo at a wedding--she's love. Nothing wrong with winter. She's vast, am I going musk SUPERIOR 331 Fiftia, enhance me. You have the moves the yesterday of me and the thing. Drowning in lustful juice we played tambourines and said f*ck to the world. Come on. Stay awhile. I was in the graphic arts industry, still there are redheads who cry for me. SUPERIOR 332 Yunc, wish for the alcove of punishment I, knowing under the yearning for the athletic girl, was yearning for the cleansing of winter rain. Truth and orange juice, a breakfast at the Yesterday Joint, Come On Junior--piss me off. Trolls hide nearby, you put up with my bullsh*t cuz you wanna f*ck me. But don't let the veil of lust hide the entire f*cking world from you, wonderful one. *OW* [[END057OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----