The Constructive Use of Dreams
(George Barnard and Midwayer Mathew)
Introduction
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.
Copyright © George Mathieu Barnard -- The 11:11 Spirit
Guardian Documents
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.
"Michael est toujours au Volant."
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