It keeps giving me hints.
Perhaps time is not something we are moving through. It IS our moving.
Our consciousness is like a little dot of light traveling through many dimensions. We view some of those dimensions as space. The dot illuminates the wee little bit that we can perceive. We notice changes as the dot moves, and we call it time.
The question is; How wide is that dot?
I am gathering more and more personal experiences suggesting that at a subconscious level we know when something emotionally big is about to happen.
Many times my body "preacts" meaning it reacts hours before some incident happens.
Case 1:
I was a little kid. A group of us periodically broke into an abandoned house. Many weeks later the cops showed up and every one in the group got in trouble. Not me. I was sick that day with an upset stomach of unknown origin.
Case 2:
I was in high school. Some friends stole a piece of the cable TV system, thinking it was not in use. It turned out they knocked out service to a large section of town for a few hours. Many weeks later I got an upset stomach for no good reason and went home to bed in the middle of the school day. I turned on the police scanner for entertainment and listened to them close in and arrest my friends that afternoon.
Case 3:
I'm an adult. My daughter Raya drives 25 miles from home to college every day. In the winter she is to take the larger highway because it is straighter and better plowed.
One day I came home from work totally wiped out (for no particular reason). I went to bed at 5:00. At midnight I woke up, sat in the dark living room alone for an hour or two, feeling lousy and bummed out. Then, out of the blue I decide to give the dog a bath at 2:00 AM.?? After giving him the bath I felt fine and went to bed.
I slept like a log until 7:30 when the phone rang. Raya had just rolled the car. She was ok. The accident happened on the small highway at a curve. Why was she taking that route?
We rushed over to the site; cops, tow trucks, commotion, and our dog runs up to me.
"What is he doing here?" I asked. Raya explained that she was on that road because she was taking the dog to the groomer on her way to college.
It took me a while to put it together. I had been preacting to the car accident. When I bathed the dog, my subconscious was satisfied that I had done something to prevent it.
Case 4:
In a semi dream state I was having a conversation with my "spiritual advisor". To condense the story, I was given a hint that someone on the Crow Wing Co-op board was going to die. The next day, the person on that board who was closest to us died of a heart attack.
Case 5:
My second entry in this blog site was titled "FLOWERS" and I noted that I was compelled to use it and knew not why. Two days later Pete died in a car accident. We were buying flowers.
This case is subtle, but the feeling wasn't. It is also worth noting that the HUG web site journal was currently focused on Pete.
So what do you think? With a little retrospection can you come up with cases where you preacted emotionally?
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3 comments:
A few days before Pete's death I was very interested (newly so) in local accident reports- seeing if I new anyone. I feel rather morbid about that now.
I dreamt that Johnny Cash died and three days later he did. Another morbid moment. Who ever dreams about Johnny Cash? Same with the pope- though we knew we was on his last leg.
There are others but I have to go and exercise. Thanks for the question.
Lady Amber
I would love to see enough dialog about this topic to support the theory about we pre-act to emotional incidents in our near future.
February 2018, I was starting to get hives that are caused by stress for no known reason. Then while having a massage, I suddenly saw a clear iconic image of a hand grenade. I immediately recognized that the character of the image was from the parts of my brain that want to express emotion and future but don't have a direct path to conscious thought.
The iconic nature of a hand grenade is pretty clear that a sudden disaster would pop up. I took it seriously and it bothered me.
18 hours later my son ran over and killed the our dog that we were really getting hooked on.
Boom! Hand grenade blew the day and weekend apart.
In some small way I was relieved that it was the dog and not a person in the family.
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