*Three colors . . . of eagles and jewels* -- 18 Apr 2001


On Wed, 04 Apr 2001 13:24:21 GMT, "Lee L." <capuaco@email.com>
(subject: dream from the other night...), to alt.dreams, wrote

> Mountains and white clouds were all around, a giant head with 
> white eyes and shoulder length hair (looked like it was both man 
> and woman) was suspended 20-30 ft above ground.  A strong 
> healing sound, like a deep electric hum, came from the head.  A 
> beam of white light was moving from the head to a brightly 
> decorated sage on the ground below.  It looked like he was 
> weaving gold thread between a bunch of pegs which were stuck in 
> the ground, like he was "weaving a plan to save the world".  
> Then the sage opened up his arms, accepting the light and 
> started dancing in ecstasy, with flowers blossoming and flying 
> from his hands and feet.  After that the sage made his way down 
> the hill and two servants unrolled a carpet and bowed before me, 
> in reverence.  I then proceeded down a 'red and gold forest-
> hallway', it was quite dark all around and very quiet.  There 
> was a golden tree at the end of the hallway, placed in it's 
> trunk were three large jewels: one blue, one green, and one red.  
> It felt as if I was going to a place of refuge, like going back 
> home...


   The same three colors as the jewels are material in a 
copyrighted dream which I posted (as electra_vu@my-deja.com) on 
Sat, 20 Nov 1999 06:35:07 GMT (subject: Dream archive: Three 
Colored Eagles), to alt.paranormal.pyramid, alt.dreams, 
alt.prophecies.nostradamus.

star-link,
   roswell.fortunecity.com/milkyway/416/summer/Eagles.txt

   (it seems you have to enter the “FC realm” first: . . . /416/ 
and get the advertising once, and then go to the text-file pages; 
or find text-file links at the bottom of /416/summer/summer.html)

   I asked then:

      Any other interpretations?  (What’s the deal with those 
   colors, really?)

   Nobody had any ideas.

   I happened upon the little booklet of the “God warns America 
with the colored eagles” dream when I saw it at a friends house 
among a pile of books, this around 1995.  After looking inside the 
booklet and first reading the introduction, I was expectantly 
interested on account of the date of the dream -- “the night of 
February 5, 1985.”
   It was just before dawn concluding the next night that I awoke 
from a dream encountering blonde Morgan le Fay for the very first 
time, before seeing her for real later in September -- the first 
time at the fitness center and then, surprisingly, at school in 
the caf, whereupon I realized it was her.

   Collaterally, Jeane Dixon writes:

      The vision which Jeane considers to be the most significant 
   and soul-stirring of her life occurred shortly before sunrise 
   on February 5, 1962.  The date itself may have special 
   significance, though Jeane was unaware of the fact at the time.  
   For several months beforehand astrologers and soothsayers had 
   been predicting an earth-shaking event on that day -- some even 
   forecast the end of the world -- because of a rare conjunction 
   of the planets.

   (this story is told a couple of times, included with other 
stories from her books at -- . . . /416/summer/JDixn_1a.txt, 
JDixn_1b.txt, JDixn_2a.txt, and JDixn_2b.txt)


   So, with this dream from the booklet, I especially determined 
to understand the real meaning of the three colors which were the 
eagles.  As I lay on the bed about a day after first reading it, 
considering in analytical-resolve mode, with hardly any waiting at 
all, I then knew -- as if it were breathed into my knowing, as a 
quantum -- like all together at once, the sentence: “It’s the 
color of color television.”  Really . . .  I checked it out in an 
encyclopedia which was in the house.

   There are three separate video signals in the television 
transmission (actually, sort of encrypted and then sorted out).  
Eventually, signals for the three colors are projected into the TV 
image, the many little phosphorescent dots of the three colors 
arranged in the TV screen blending into the composite color image.  
Any of the three images by itself would be like black and white 
television, only in that particular color.  Furthermore, the image 
of only one color signal would not be as readily interpretive as a 
black and white signal image, which gives information on light 
“shading.”  For example, in the red-color signal: all combined 
color variations of diverse blue and green intensities and having 
the same amount of red, would appear the same shade (of red).  
Yet, the actual light shading may well differ among those additive 
variations resultant while holding red intensity constant (e.g., 
things white and red could look identically red). Therefore, 
interpreting that red-only signal would pose a problem, since we 
don’t experience seeing things that are “light in red” versus 
“dark in red” like we experience simply seeing things lightly or 
darkly shaded.

   This is of course, I find out, the RGB color scheme.  Red, 
green, and blue are called additive primary colors because light 
of these colors can be mixed in different proportions to make any 
other color.  Humans do not naturally interpret colors in terms of 
their RGB components.
   Color photography can be based on the principle.  Digital 
photography can record values for each of the RGB colors for each 
pixel, and then when light is combined for each pixel on the 
computer, you see the mix just like in the television application.  
Instant photography can work by mixing pigments of the complements 
of the RGB colors (the subtractive primary colors: cyan, magenta, 
and yellow) and here, the reflected light color is resultant from 
what isn’t absorbed by the primary pigment combination.  There are 
other three-parameter color schemes.

   Proceeding further -- so, if you saw simply *one* of the color-
signal images of the color television picture, yet you understood 
that signal to be “the picture,” where would that take you; -- 
like, if you had no idea color television existed?

   To elucidate: suppose you are watching *The Wizard of Oz* for 
the first time, and it’s on a black and white TV.  (That’s like at 
our house when I was a kid.  My friend who had the color TV lived 
in the next block, and I remember particularly being there on a 
Sunday evening, watching it for the first time in color.  Before 
that, when I saw it in our living room, they explained to me how 
at this certain point the movie actually changes to color.)  Upon 
viewing the film’s video signal in black and white, you would be 
unequipped to perceive the allegory -- even if you were informed 
there *was* one to be perceived.

   (Of course, if you had the film soundtrack, also, then you 
would know the brick road *is* yellow and the city *is* emerald.  
And it would help if you were told that MGM changed the slippers 
from silver to ruby.  It might even help if you knew that the 
first paved highway in Nebraska was the stretch of US 6, from 
Lincoln west to Emerald.  Or not.)


      [Y]ou may come with me, if you like.  If Oz will not give 
   you any brains you will be no worse off than you are now.

                            *The Wonderful Wizard of Oz* . . .

ftp://ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext93/

   It’s a list, find the link for wizoz10.txt or wizoz10.zip.

  (Or with ftp client, enter at the root directory as anonymous 
user and whatever as the password.)


   Anyway, this is the beginning to understanding the guy’s dream 
about colored eagles coming out of the clouds in the night sky 
near a stadium, and to understanding the stupidity of the man who 
had the dream.  (I leave it as an exercise for the interested 
reader to develop any more understanding.)


   About the dream with the colored jewels:

   The dream report didn’t describe more precisely the apparent 
size of the giant head “suspended 20-30 ft above the ground,” but 
that makes me think of the film *Zardoz* (1974) -- which did have 
a giant head, that one made of stone.  In the dream, “a beam of 
white light” emanated from the head -- which of course needs no 
further explanation.

   The “red and gold forest-hallway” has left me wondering.

   In thinking about the jewels in the trunk of the golden tree, 
I’m wanting to know what the arrangement of the jewels was, 
thinking that might have some significance.  Regardless, the 
scene-theme with the jewels seems to be “encrypted image” or 
veiled mystery awaiting at the end.  For me personally, an 
encrypted image in the trunk of the golden tree has a meaning, one 
that relates to this whole unified dream revelation.

   I’m struck by the similarity in theme and imagery of the two 
dreams, and yet the contrasting tone and character action. 


   Lee L.’s dream made me think of this (a short story from a cd’s 
liner-notes which I hadn’t read in a long time) . . .


               Gretchen Goes To Nebraska
 
   Seven years ago (not counting today), a small girl with big 
ideas set forth to a land, somewhere known only to her dreams.  
Among the tall trees and whispering breeze, in which she sees 
faint depictions of an inner pointillist forming detailed 
landscapes, fully dimensional, in various shades of grey (with 
hints of invading color at a distance), and her boldly hovering, 
as a spirit would do, above the scenery yet mysteriously also in 
the midst (an integral part of the picture itself), she hopped 
merrily along, with a suitcase of memories, a lunchbox of assorted 
fruits and candy and a knapsack of her writings, her music, and 
all that is important to her filled to the very top; with an 
occasional piece of importance making its way out and onto the 
ground.
   A few steps ahead, she noticed (hiding timidly in front of an 
old oak tree; a grandfather oak if you will) a middle-aged lady 
wearing a faded purple dress with a small floral print and torn at 
the shoulder.  Her face looked as if she’d been crying then wiped 
her eyes with dirty hands.
   Upon the girl’s acknowledgment, the lady reached into her purse 
for a smile, found only one that quivered, looked up and shyly 
said, “Good luck.”  Although knowing she’d had none herself, she 
wished it upon others.  She still had hope.
   The girl spoke kindly but with a slight tinge of disgust to the 
lady.  “Have you traveled this road before?” 
   “Oh, no,” answered the lady, “I’ve never been encouraged to 
start.  I can’t see much past myself.  But I greatly admire your 
strength and courage to have come from somewhere else to here and 
still see beyond this point and have no desire to stay, but to 
continue on.”
   “But I’m scared too.  I have no idea what truly awaits me.  I 
only have hope and I believe in that hope.”
   “The key, though, is that your fear is not king.  But this fear 
or weakness as you may see it becomes your strength, because you 
see into the greater and possibly even the greatest and this puts 
your fear to work in the factory of life to produce your good.  In 
a sense, it becomes your slave.  I would rejoice if I were you.”
   Not knowing exactly how to respond to such a discreet analysis 
of her journey, she just graciously and simply replied, “Well, 
thank you.”
   “Oh no no,” said the lady excitedly.  “Thank you.  You’re the 
one with the glimmer in your eye.”
   So, slightly confused and very startled at the apparent reality 
of this situation, she slowly took two steps backwards, her eyes 
still gazing intently at the lady, turned cautiously to continue, 
then immediately found herself smack dab in the middle of a 
corner.
   Her head involuntarily dropped towards the ground with a sigh.  
As her eyes began to focus on the ground, she noticed a piece of 
paper with writing on it.  It looked familiar, yet she knew it was 
not quite hers.  She picked it up and started to read.  It said: 

   Dear Broken One, I have no defense at this time, only my empty 
words of redundant selfishness and vagary.  I could struggle to 
the top of any mountaintop, stand tall, fling my arms wide open 
and shout all the mysteries of my heart known to me at the time, 
and still I’d end up walking the path of the redundant vague one.  
The way I see things, there’s just too much to see not to be vague 
or redundant for that matter.  I find, though, in light of all 
that exists, that my measly penetration into the unspeakable 
vastness of all there is matters very little if at all to the 
penetration into all that exists of those who have glued their 
eyes so steadily upon my reaction to this maze of clarity, pouring 
out from within, encircling my existence as far as my eye can see, 
then returning with a new plan and a reconstructed maze of the 
same origin, leading to the same place.  Maybe I’m 
misunderstanding.  Or maybe I’m missing the simplicity of simply 
not being me.  Sometimes I stare because that’s where all that I 
see is.
   So you think you’ve ridden the clouds I have; or heard the 
crystal music coming from nowhere; or watched skeletons laugh 
while dissecting your curiosity?  Maybe you have.  Maybe you 
haven’t.  You see, I’m a victim of self-imposed knowledge.  I’d 
fallen prey to the wondrous keeper of the keys out of the garden 
of Eden and quite a few of his cohorts who dipped seeds of truth 
into vats of contaminated pride then handed them back to me with a 
greeting card that said Good Luck.  Although I’ve been rescued, my 
backyard still expands enough to have those chained offenders 
lurking eagerly to recompense evil for good.
   Now I don’t pretend to know more than the next guy, or maybe I 
do pretend, but I know better.  I only know what I know.  And 
sometimes it’s hard to see past what I know.  But you know, down 
the road a bit there’s always a major breakthrough waiting -- for 
you know who -- me.  So let’s get on with it and smile our way 
through the madness.  OK?  Sincerely, Also Broken

   After reading this, she turned, looked up straight ahead into 
what was an entirely new land.  Instead of the forest of towering, 
slightly unfamiliar redwoods for miles on end, a clear cut path 
and that curious, lone “grandfather oak,” she now stood upon a 
vast sea of sand (that greyish white kind you’ll find on the 
beaches of the North Atlantic) that stretched for miles 
incalculable.  At the sight of this, on top of what she’d just 
read, she fell on her knees, pounded the sand then screamed at the 
top of her lungs, “DO I HAVE TO TAKE IN ALL OF THIS JUST TO GET TO 
NEBRASKA!”
   Now at the very second she had finished this outburst, she 
noticed a small gentle type of bird flying smoothly overhead.  As 
it became parallel to where she was kneeling, it let go of a very 
small piece of paper it had been carrying in its beak.  The paper 
floated effortlessly as if directed by the master of all wind, 
landed precisely at her knees and stayed there till she was able 
to pick it up.  When finally she did, it simply and comfortingly 
read, as though it were smiling at her: YES . . .  
   The consolation of this note, mixed with an equally brave sense 
of fear, brought instant tears to her eyes as she positioned 
herself limply on the sandy floor about her; contemplating the 
future in relationship with now and at what intersection does her 
journey have to do with anything anymore.
   After thirty minutes or so another amazing thing began to 
happen. All around her, the sandy beach began transforming 
silently into a paradisiacal land of roaming green hills, 
crystalline lakes filled with dancing fish and an occasional 
curious deer or rabbit adding its innocence to the scene.  Daisies 
and lilac bushes appeared, dotting the land with their beautiful 
whites and yellows and purples while scenting the air with that 
gorgeous lilac aroma.  The land stretched on perfectly smooth for 
miles and miles.
   “Oh what a wonderful, wonderful surface for me to travel on,” 
thought Gretchen.  (By the way, Gretchen is the girl’s name and 
she comes from a long line of visionaries, explorers, and well, 
just plain pioneers of all sorts.)  So immediately with a fresh 
burst of energy and all agog, she gathered her things and headed 
straightway on her journey.  After five minutes or so of 
delightful running and skipping, the thought occurred to her; I no 
longer have any concrete direction, this being an entirely new 
land and all.  Then instantaneously, quite like the incident with 
the bird and the note, she spotted two or three miles ahead what 
appeared to be a preposterous waterfall.  From where she stood 
(remember she was two or three miles away) it looked as if she was 
fast approaching the Niagara Falls itself.  If ever you’ve been to 
Niagara Falls, you can imagine the monstrosity of this thing; 
especially at such a distance.  Nightmarish! if not for the beauty 
of this land she roved.  And also, what to fear?  She was on dry 
land and no hint of the land forcing her into it.
   Once again, with this thought and her next step, a trickling 
stream began to form beneath her (apparently from nowhere) growing 
deeper and more forceful with each step.  Soon she was surrounded 
by nothing but water rising quickly to her neck.  Now she was 
being carried by it.  Nothing but water for miles and it was 
rapidly heading straight for that preposterous beauty of a 
waterfall.  Nightmarish!!!  Fortunately there were no rocks of any 
sort in that water.  She was definitely being carried through.  No 
time to think now; only to let go . . . !  
   It seemed like hours until she reached what felt to be the sure 
Cataract of Doom.  With eyes closed and all hope of life 
continuing given up, over the edge she was swept.
   Upon opening her eyes, she found herself in no better situation 
than she expected.  She was falling swiftly, engulfed by the 
bluest, white water imaginable.  Then, “How in the world did I 
ever get here!” she thought.  Suddenly everything changed again.  
Rather than falling, she was now caught up in a whirlpool, guiding 
her where it willed.  Unheard-of dialogue, superficialities, 
wisdom, philosophical discussions, tainted Christianity, 
Pantheism, Communism, thisism, thatism, sexual perversity, truest 
sexual pleasure, laughter (haunting then soothing), T.V., 
technology from beginning to end; connecting to what she now 
perceived to be herself, became the life force of this consuming 
vortex.
   Round and round she began to fall again; this time a 
centripetal force her guide, leading her where, she had no 
thoughts.  She knew only too well that she was its slave.  Faster 
and faster, whirling and spinning, headlong into this relentlessly 
wicked unknown!
   With all thoughts gone and surrendered to bondage, to her 
surprise she stopped dead in her tracks (if we can call them 
hers), was poured forth as if from a tube, flipping as she flowed 
to feet first position, alighting into a realm of pitch blackness.  
With a combination of relief and confused anger, she thought, “Now 
what?”  Immediately she heard a knock upon a door.  In the midst 
of this total darkness, her only response was a timid “where?”
   A doorknob of purest, transparent gold slowly began to protrude 
through the wall of blackness directly in front of her.  She 
reached out to turn it.  The mere touch of her skin to the knob 
caused the warmest sentience of ease, comfort and comradery to 
shoot through her entire being, inside and out as if to prepare 
her for whatever lurked beyond that wall.
   The wall promptly melted, revealing a simple man clad in soiled 
work clothes, against a landscape of indescribable beauty and 
proportion.  Imagine all the wonder of a land you can muster.  Add 
your childhood thoughts of splendor.  Subtract nothing.  Continue 
that on and on and still you have only maybe touched the veriest 
fringe of all its glory.  Gretchen would have fallen as dead if 
not for the magic (the truest magic) of that doorknob.
   His eyes blasted forth wisdom.  His arms spoke strength 
forever.  His feet could have crushed the very world in which He 
stood.  His chest revealed truth in every direction.  His smile 
lighted the world within and throughout.  He stood there grinning; 
he was a simple man.
   After what seemed to have been years of learning and 
unlearning, He spoke.
   “Where are you headed, my child?”
   The words “my child” filled Gretchen with all hope.  She wanted  
nothing more than to run and dance and leap into His arms, and 
yes, truly be His child forevermore.  Now after what seemed to be 
years again, she caught hold of herself and said, “Nebraska, I 
think.”
   “Oh, don’t think, my child,” He said.  “Just be sure.”
   “Well, what I meant was I think, or I know, rather, I want to 
stay here.  I feel like I’ve arrived where I’ve always wanted to 
be plus so much more.  When I started for Nebraska, it was the 
land of my dreams.  It was only inside of me then.  Now all that’s 
inside and outside and all direction everywhere is You and this 
paradise where you stand.  Is this Nebraska?”
   “To you it is Nebraska.  To others it’s Narnia.  To others 
Heaven,” he whispered.  “To others Eden.  To still others, Truth.  
And to some, it just is.  This is the land within; the land of 
your dreams.  But let me explain: you were correct in saying 
you’ve arrived.  But you haven’t quite entered.”  I must note that 
with each word He spoke, He was forthwith adorned with the 
vestments of the kingliest King of Kings, while His stature and 
brilliance ascended far above the highest reaching peak, till 
nothing was left but Him and nothing else mattered.
   Gretchen hurriedly asked, “How do I enter then, Please?!”  At 
once He transformed into an old dilapidated wooden door, with its 
paint peeling and barely hanging on its hinges.
   “Through here,” spoke a voice that rang throughout all eternity 
and is ringing still for those who can hear.
   Gretchen, without hesitation, rushed through the door, leaving 
all but Him behind.  Awaiting her entrance (with all glory and 
camaraderie) stood her King, her friend, her Lord and Love of and 
for all time, with hand outstretched, desiring her hand in what 
we’d call marriage (excepting no hint of separation, ever).
   “Now off we go,” said He.  “There’s so much more for you to 
see.”  So off they flew and walked and ran and talked and skipped 
happily into volumes of indescribable wonder, becoming more and 
more familiar with each step, yet astonishingly new on each beam 
of direction.
   Then suddenly Gretchen stopped.  She gazed at her Lord as if to 
say, ‘you sneak, you’ and said, “You brought me here, didn’t You?” 
   He began to laugh, inspiring all the land to join in the 
celebration.  Then, “Remember the outset of your journey?”  He 
whispered (bringing an attentive intermission in all the land 
about them).  She couldn’t recall.  She only knew the now.
   He continued, “You started within, with only a dream.  Within 
has no end, only beginning.  Whether it’s known or not makes no 
difference inside.  For sight is blindness; strong is weak; power 
is failure if based on what’s known.  Your dream was unseen.  Your 
strength unresolved.  Your power unaccounted for.  So from whence 
did you begin? and through what made you your entrance?  Your 
beginning was your arrival and your entrance was through Me.  So 
in other words my child, yes.  Any more questions?”
   They both smiled; they both laughed.  The land relinquished its 
attentive ear, rejoined the happy jubilation; then off they went, 
hand in hand to connect with all others’ dreams, to see all 
heretofore unseen, to know all that can’t be known, to touch 
what’s never been touched, to taste the sweetness of taste beyond!  
No turning back, yet leaving nothing behind . . .

                                      King’s X, Houston, 1989

   (this, surely honoring the highly esteemed Gretchen Polhemus, 
Miss Texas-USA, 1989 -- which I didn’t realize until once when I 
was laying on my bed gazing at her poster on the wall (which I’d 
picked up one afternoon at the mini-mart on NASA Road 1 when 
getting gas after work at the Space Center) . . . and the notion 
just popped into my head)


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