I thought I was awake and documenting a dream, when something unusual happened. A dark-haired and semi-older woman was kind of towering over me. Fearing an attack, I tried to sort of turn it around so that I was in a dominant position. Pinning her to the ground, I kissed her. She sort of rolled her eyes.
me: "Look, I'm just... I was fearing you were going to attack me. This indicates you're more likely friendly."woman: "Yes, I'm familiar with this."
me: "Well, sorry."
We got up off the ground.
woman: "I'm here to talk with you."me: "That's great. But I've only got like, 10 minutes max. Is there anything you can do to extend that?"
woman: "No, not here. What we really need to do is connect you with someone who works in your dimension and then we can have prolonged conversations."
me: "Well then hook me up! Mediums, channelers, whoever. Give me someone who practices in Los Angeles in 2008 who isn't a fraud or a hoaxer. Be my guest. But everyone I've met and talked to is a phony."
She started filtering through things and came up with a yellow sheet of paper. It had names on it, some of them were listed in Glendale.
me: "Okay... um... I'm going to pick this one because it has an internal rhythm I can remember. Danielle Adele Bertrelle."(Note: Danielle is the only part I'm really confident about remembering correctly. But the name did have a pattern like that.)
me: "I'm not sure if I should force myself to wake up now or carry this paper around and then look at it right before I wake up. That probably isn't going to work."woman: "Well what's with all the drinking? If you want to BE your brain, it would help if it *worked*."
By this point she was laying on a bed as I walked around the room and ranted.
me: "Hey, don't blame me for that. If you guys are so good at talking to people in other dimensions you should do a better job, instead of leaving me hanging."woman: "It's been hard to talk to you and get you to see who you need to see. I'm the second person assigned, and the first person did not have a good experience."
me: "Oh? Read my dream journal if you want to hear about not-having-a-good-experience. And as for the drinking, I'm done with this body—I can't live in it forever anyhow, and I'm not going to be in a hospital hooked up to tubes. F*&k that."
The woman didn't seem fazed by the profanity, but I felt a little weird about it.
me: "I mean, as they say in the vernacular, y'know?"woman: "Right."
me: "Unless you have some bright idea about how to fix all that, I'm going to drink as much as I feel like. Plus, I don't think they're going to fix aging in my lifetime, and even if they can it's probably not a good idea. A lot of people are dying a lot of the time, and given the low quality of them as individuals that's probably a good thing."
woman: (sadly) "Yes."
A stereo had been playing music but then started playing the music very loudly—I could no longer talk over it. I tried turning a knob that looked like a volume control but it had no effect. As I repeated my attempts to turn it down with the knob, the woman laughed at me. I decided to focus my attention on getting the music to turn down by using my mind. It worked, but shortly thereafter I woke up.
