An otherworldly wise old man was in my dream, who taught me about discipline and perfection.
He conveyed this through guitar, and I listened to a section he played, in which the steel strings were perfect.
The tempo, the pitch, the notes were all precisely balanced. He said, “It’s different – can you hear it?” And I could. I was awoken and amazed. And he never left me.
Years later when he died, there was a ceremony for him complete with horses. It was a celebration of mourning for someone very special.
He cut the heads off sad, pathetic people who volunteered to have them cut off and he did so with no remorse, for he knew it had to be done.
~:=-=:~
Another dream from the rock-bottom archives of 2017. This one was special to me – it has to do with sound/frequency and letting parts of me die, so I could create a higher version of me in its place.
