The Constructive Use of Dreams


(George Barnard and Midwayer Mathew)


Both Sandy and I have frequently been asked about TRing -- Transmitting/Receiving, channeling, or simply "talking with Celestials". In short, the answer is simple: Still the mind as in meditation, wait for thought patterns to arrive, then have the courage to record on tape whatever filters into your mind, and with practice you will begin to recognize which of your Celestial Friends is "knocking on the door" with his/her audible or visual information.

A new spiritual age has begun, but not even a natural psychic ability, necessarily, will produce a successful Transmitter/Receiver.

In reality there is a vast gap between the innate gifts for doing this "thing" each of us, respectively, is provided with. For some of us it is easy, for others it is a seemingly long, hard road. But here is a method of getting in touch with our "inner selves" and suitable projects for selves that can be made known to us all.

We all dream, or else we might well suffer greatly if we couldn't. With the help of our Seraphic Guardians these dreams can be given direction, become lucid and very much to the point.

It doesn't even stop there.

A Second Hand Dream

Set out below is a reconstruction of a dream forwarded by a friend and subscriber to this list. He writes: "Hey, George. I can't put it together like you do, but here are all the happenings, Buddy. Wish you could have experienced that. See what you can do with this… Josh."

It is with the assistance of the Seraphim I presumably fully relived this subscriber's dream, and with Midwayer Mathew's input it is recorded here in full. It seems that with their ready help, nothing is impossible in these grand, incredible universes.

(In essence) our subscriber wrote:

Taking the Risk

I don't even know how the idea came up in my mind -- who or what inspired my ill-educated brain to put everything I had on the line for just one idea. I could lose my home, my car, my job, but more likely than not I would lose my wife and two lovely children. The risk was enormous, still is, and for many years I just thought about it -- unwilling to give it up, too frightened to commence. It was something that just would not go away… an obsession, I think.

With my mind focused on failure, I commenced with the project. But since I kind of "knew" it would surely fail, I made only a half-hearted attempt. I needed guts, persistence, confidence, and to be decisive, but already I was an emotional wreck.

I asked for help and it came in a dream.

Putting It Together

At this point in his writing, our subscriber's dream interpretation became somewhat of a "rambling mess" -- a "word salad" for want of a better term, and I put his e-mail message aside, but I somehow failed to delete it.

In searching for other posts that begged to be answered, however, Josh's mixed-up post kept popping up. Some days ago, I asked our Celestial Friends about 'what on earth' I was meant to do with that utterly unclear picture of this fellow's dream story, and I was made to fully relive Josh's lucid experience that very next night.

Searching for Gold

In this "pre-used", "pre-loved", or "recycled" dream I found myself a few feet within a man-made culvert in northwest US gold country. I could easily stand up in this enormous corrugated pipe that crossed beneath one of America's major highways. Here I was, busily scratching mud and sand out of the corrugations and putting it in a blue plastic bucket by my side.

There were occasional specks and grains of gold in that built-up dirt though I knew that, when properly panned out, there would only be a small paycheck for the remaining precious metal. Still, it would almost pay for my time on the job.

A female partner (presumably Josh's dear wife) stood by the entrance of the culvert. She was watching my efforts, but hardly impressed by the tedious way I was going about my task. She was neither encouraging me, nor was she discouraging me.

Momentarily I wondered about the risk I was taking by being inside that culvert. The temperature had risen of late, and snow was melting fast. What if a sudden stream of melt water washed me right out of this pipe? There really was only one entrance -- on the upstream side. At the other end of the culvert there was a sheer drop of some thirty yards into a ravine.

No sooner contemplated, or it actually happened. A huge wave of icy cold melt water surged into the culvert and took my breath away. The light dimmed as head over heels I spun around and was sucked through that dark tunnel to emerge at the other end and plunge into the ravine below.

There was a deep, clear pond at the bottom of this ravine, and the moment I opened my eyes, I could see a huge golden nugget lying on the sharp rocks far below. It would weigh many, many pounds.

Though out of breath, shaking and groaning because of the immense cold, I dived some twenty feet to the bottom of this "arctic" pond and placed my hand around this enormous lump of gold. Thirsting for air, my head hurting, my eardrums near bursting, I had to give up. The gold was far too heavy. I dropped it and hurried to the surface for an imperative breath of air.

Shaping the Plan

That gold had to be harvested. It was worth a fortune, and, obviously, it was the future reward for a task I had taken upon myself. And in the very next instant, the plan was complete.

Here I was, back at the pond, and with a large leather sling tied to a long, tough rope. Once more, I braved the cold water, tirelessly dragging the sling and rope behind me to the bottom of the icy depth. It was easy to lift that gold nugget into the sling, but once again it was now urgent for me to surface and once again fill my lungs with fresh air. A quick glance cast over the bottom of that pond revealed even more gold to be harvested.

Back at the surface at last, it would now become a simple, routine matter of pulling up the rope, until I could haul up the sling with its valuable content inside.

"You Need Help."

The young lady who had watched me scraping the mud out of the culvert's grooves was now standing on the other side of the pond with a long thin rope in her hands. "You need help!" she shouted at me.

She explained that there was nowhere around that deep pond where I could safely lift the sling. Surely, no matter where I stood, the sling would snag against the sharp rocks, and I would need to dive back into the frigid waters to secure that king sized nugget all over again.

Skillfully she threw me the rope, and I looped it around the bigger rope. Slowly, and with the young woman keeping the tension on her slender rope, we lifted the sling from its depth. Up it came at last, and right in the very middle of the pond -- safe from the sharp, threatening rocks that jutted out from the side. Together we dragged it to the side, knowing we would both be back at that pond to harvest still more of a treasure that could not be evaluated as to its riches and extent.

This is where the lucid dream abruptly ended.

Notes: There is little about this dream that is not self-explanatory, except, perhaps, that it arrived in segments (or rest periods) between the major aspects of the overall event. Josh's self-appointed task will not be easy, but he was clearly shown his future success.

The capacity of the Celestial Beings that retain all past information -- even including personal dreams -- will never cease to astonish me.

These problem-solving method are yours but for the asking. Seraphim delight in getting on with their tasks. And, perhaps, in some way this complex dream belongs to all of us… at some time in our lives.

I have no idea where that blue plastic bucket went. :o)

© 11:11 Progress Group.
Toujours au Service de Michael.

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