Understanding the Beloved
Because He Loved Me
Understanding The Beloved
At the same time that I loved him, I was irrevocably repelled by him. It was like the song, "I don't like you, but I love you." It was for me to understand myself as much as to understand him. For in understanding, it is a smidgen of love assailing the mind which self constructs it's own ego; the same ego we are compelled in the spirit realm to lay down, even while life remains in the body this can be the state of affairs.
To say once more, understanding is likened unto loveliness. Within time-walks here love is delivered in increments, increments of time in understanding the beloved, and the human race. The bloom of love rarely opens until the very last time walk we are required to undertake here, if we should be discussing the fullness of Love and it's ability to transform the human being.
Dream-walking is the easiest of all memories to ponder upon speaking for myself only. I had the kind of dreams which said to me that this was no dream. I had "dream presence." Friends could often smell me coming, if they themselves had enough sensitivity towards the 3rd eye opening.The presence of myself was indeed, wholly present, my essence was there and the thoughts that I would think while awake were now at once present in the dream state. As well I was lucid; I knew it was real, and yet I knew I was in another location of whatever reality is. At the same time, I knew I was dreaming; however that did nothing to make the happenings less real.
This was real. As a matter of fact, as a dream-walker, if you chanced to look at my life, I had nothing given to me by way of a gift, excepting my propensity to explore the unknown by going out of body. I had only these dreams and nothing of material essence such as fame or good fortune had come my way, and no material acquisitions had much import. I could not resist the dreams which came unbidden and overwhelmed the ego of my conscious mind. I could no more say that the dreams were my fabrication, and that I controlled the happening of them in any fashion. If they had been fabricated by myself, it was so long ago that I had forgotten all but the smallest of details of how I had created this reality. Nonetheless I grasped onto to the smallest detail within the dream as one would a lifeline to truth, hoping eventually to land upon the shore, safe and sound; we are all looking for secure home grounds.
Nothing Quite Fit
Was I Really An Alien?
f I had been an alien on earth, to which thought I often entertained, I now knew what it was to be human, with those frailties, those limitations, yet with humanity's propensity to awaken into God's great love, and the realization we never had left home and we were but dreaming we were exiled. The ego, to know this, at once becomes a non-entity and senses it's ultimate ending into nothingness, and this ego, with it's fear of non-survival, is what does the protesting and creates the conflicts.
My mind goes to a particular dream now and again, whereby I had asked the beloved to jump out the window with me, and cross the bridge of no-time, where eternity beckoned. He had refused, and thought not to assist me to the window sill. I was quite perturbed and leaped unto the sill plummeting easily onto the sands of time below making straightway for the bridge by myself where I could see lone travelers had made it there ahead of me. They were few, and I was one of them. Later, I would start to understand why he refused. He still had much to do here, projects as it were, and perhaps what I desired of him was unimportant to him, or perhaps I myself was but another project to him. By way of explanation for his part, upon hearing of this dream by myself, the beloved penned across the Internet medium that I should jump out my window, thereby once more turning the tables on me, misunderstanding my interpretation of the dream to mean I should jump out my window, thereby to find him there, where we would do, whatever we would do. I had wanted him to jump out HIS window, and he wanted me to jump from my window. Perhaps I had jumped out "our" window in truth. I remember distinctly asking his permission to use his window and that he gave me that permission. I had asked because I knew he wouldn't like what was going to happen if the others on this ship of fools found out I had left the ship for the unknown bridge of no time. They would perhaps blame him for his behavior towards me, and in truth, they wouldn't entirely be off the mark in doing so.
To back up this dream with another of like concern, my beloved had rescued me, rather I allowed him to think this so, appearing on a horse and asking me to jump behind him in the saddle, which I did and we galloped off at breakneck speed down a paved highway. I leaned in to inquire did he not want to take the route through a lovely meadow nearby instead of this dangerous street? I said we could feed the horse off the delectable tender shoots of the meadow. He slowed the beast to a trot, as if to consider my request, but then just like the other dream, he decided not to listen to me. He was in the greatest of hurry and I was not the type to be rushed.
Just then I noticed the horse was not staying between the lines, which were marked for safety in lieu of potential fast cars perhaps hitting us. A car came by observing us, which I detected were like traffic cops about to ticket us for being on this road and presenting a danger. All the more reason I had asked to take the meadow route as it was more beautiful to be in nature, rather than in city, in traffic. He had not seen the traffic cops and so I told him they were there, following us slowly, watching to see if we would keep it between the lines. What I didn't understand about him was that he was the proverbial rule breaker sort, neither was he above breaking the rules of society as to what is legal and what is illegal. I knew the cops were protecting my best interests, rather than his best interests. As I informed him the horse was stepping out of line, he slowed the beast down and tried his best to stay as close to the side of the road as possible. Gradually he picked up speed while I held unto him until the dream shifted to where we were off the horse and now into an RV and traveling somewhere.
Who Sir Is Rescuing Whom?
I've Flipped Me Lid This Time!
The cops pulled up and they were no longer cops, but buddies of the beloved. They appeared to be congratulating him on acquiring the lady on-board. The men all agreed to stop for refreshments, and to meet me.
We stopped somewhere like unto a mall and he went off to join his cronies while I pretended I wished to freshen up from my travels and would join them shortly. I was too lucid in the dream to just follow the action and being lucid means you begin to question what you are doing in that circumstance and why you do not appear to have control of the dream sequences. I was of the mind to search the premises to find out why I was with the beloved, why he was driving me somewhere and where we were going. I was not concerned with finding myself so much as I was about discovering who this guy was exactly and why he had wanted to rescue me and from what. At first I had every intention of joining them, but I wasn't exactly in a celebratory mood as they were. I didn't like the idea of being the guest of honor and being the only female at a table of what appeared to me a group of testosterone driven boisterous merry making men, which reminded me of men watching football. Men who are watching football cannot be bothered with walks through meadows and star studded nights under a full and friendly moon.
Finding Roses In His RV Closet
I'll be Right There! I Need to Freshen Up! Right..
All in all, I did not feel rescued from anything at all but I had consented to ride upon his steed because I had fancied him long ago and thought I had fabricated him to be someone he was not. I had always considered myself the rescuer and so I had questions what I was doing there. The beloved left, fully expecting I would come later. I opened the closet to see what clothing I could put on and saw there was no clothing for me. I was not naked, but just wanted fresh attire. I found nothing suitable to wear when I spotted the beloved's past life military uniform, fully and ponderously decorated, along with a box of stemless multicolored preserved roses on the bottom of the closet, directly located under the keepsake suit.
I received vague memories of a man going off to war, and that I had been the wife left behind, and that the man had died in that life, at any rate, having not returned. The rose seemed to say what he could not; that love had not died but had extended itself to this life at hand. I remember thrilling over the yellow and the red, the purple, and white colors of the roses. Every color seemed to be there, and though it was not a living rose I beheld, it was nonetheless quite preserved in perfection.
Are We Playing This By Ear?
I Think I Smell Romance
The roses seemed to speak of a long lost love we'd had. I wondered why after so much time, years and years, the roses kept their form perfectly, missing their stems, they still had much color and beauty. Now I had remembered him somewhat, but I could not remember who I was back then for certainly I was not that woman now. Furthermore, if I was not the same woman, neither could he be the same man. Suffice it to say, for the sake of romance perhaps, each of us had changed sufficiently so that only a hint of our former selves could ever be shown, and this only through a wisp of nostalgia now and again. The nostalgia was tied to the wish for romance, and the wish for romance was tied to a state of being in illusory bliss conditions, such as a drug might afford in it's temporary effect. I myself was good at both conjuring up romance, and standing solidly on the ground. I was a born actress that had foregone the stage. I hadn't lost my talent however.
All thoughts of joining the fellows were unimportant in light of this new information. Shortly he returned to inquire why I had not joined their table. I explained about the military suit I'd found in the closet but I didn't mention the roses. For a moment I stilled myself to receive his anger yet to his credit he remained composed. He got behind the wheel and started driving. By this time I knew of his temper and I assumed the temper had been a part of this other life as well. I seemed to remember not ever being able to be quite the lover he had wished me to be and suffering his temper. End of dream.
Nothing Happened But It Was Still
Nutty Vansanas & All That Stuff
I was still not quite believing about this other life as an explanation for why I was there. I did need to talk to him about other lives, about feeling abandoned and such, but there would seldom be opportunity in reality to discuss dreams or reincarnation or anything at all really that was uppermost on my mind. For whatever reason our signals to one another would nearly always be crossed.
Because he loved me, and because of his station in life, it had acted to uplift me, in self confidence, for all our conflict and separate ego viewpoints, this was the underlying theme of energy underneath the pain of not being able to really make contact with him, from this other lifetime or even in this present one. Nonetheless, he was psychic and relayed he had caught me grinning at him in the shadows. Hopefully the grin disarmed him. The man had more than guns. He was packing dynamite. I could never get it into my head we might just be playing a game here and not realize it!
Returning to the theme of understanding one another on the earth plane through increments of time, I knew I had eternity to understand and that sooner or later I would understand all. I saw myself later as the proverbial, overwhelmed, star struck female energy with only a few years left in which to contact the beloved from another time frame and circumstance. I truly gave up attempting to discern how he viewed himself in this life, for his self image did in no way fit what I remembered him to be. Which is one reason for the dreams; whereby I would run into the wall again and again. Add to this that he made an announcement that I too, was not who I used to be, according to him.
Although we had made contact, it would never be quite enough, what with the crossed signals and misinterpretations that occurred and we would not have the words to describe the meetings in the ozone; such as it was a rare happenstance for two dream-walkers to chance to meet. Both of us would be under the veil of forgetfulness which is an agreement all souls enter into, in order to have new and fresh lives upon the earth plane, without the interference of old Vansanas, which can be thought of as old patterning behaviors, erupting into place and unraveling as it were. Each life is a series of new decisions to make and we are born innocent of memories of Vansanas, so we can become someone new each time.
Love & War Is Not Exactly Fair
I eventually understood and accepted we had been attempting to revive an old love from another time, that had been cut short by death and by war. I understood the effort itself was thrilling for it had not been done thus and so as yet. I understood we had accomplished, at the least a wave of recognition of one another. We had been like ships on the sea sounding our horns in passing. The one redeeming factor had been, he had succeeded in if not rescuing me exactly, he had succeeded in uplifting me just before I went into my cocoon of necessity. I understand our lives here are short and often bittersweet and that the best laid plans of man often go astray. Mostly what I understand is the silence now, for it is so pregnant, so full; the bloom is about to burst forth. I understand how we create our lives, how we build character, or fail to build character. I understand less about man's plans going astray, but I understand about every cloud having a silver lining much better these days.
I do not understand all there is to know about Love but it doesn't bother me, as I'm here to understand it, that is my mission. I have learned only that forgiveness is the precursor to understanding Love, therefore I am on track.
I remain in gratitude for little things in life that are given me, because little things mean a lot, as does the increments of love that come our way to bedazzle the mind and conform the heart to love's propensities to lift one's self from the humdrum and the monotony, into the place where your footsteps become steady and the way is made easy for those true to thine own self. As a returning spirit to my home, I wish to stand naked before God. To say, I do not want to wear spotted garments, but those free of sin. If I have sin, God will counsel me about that. How cool is that thought! For I already know how greatly we are loved and now the rest of my life is gravy. I will leave with this thought, if we have not Love, we have nothing at all.