OBE Log: Yellow Rose

Dream into OBE

A young boy’s long journey home.

Large structure. It is a home which accommodates a great many individuals. Some of whom reside here and some of whom are being hosted for a time. I am walking through the structure checking in on the areas and everyone. I am one of those who is just passing through, being hosted for a time, I am here with Charlie, it is not my role or job to be doing this, I just am. It is natural for me. I am entering an area where there are many of those who are here for a time. I am asking if they have everything they need. If there is any single thing missing I will go get it for them ( I am up ). It is in the little details like this that makes a place special. 

There is a woman here in a chair who is sleeping, who has some horrible and loud kind of sleep apnea. I retrieve a pillow for her head. When I bring it she wakes and I ask her if she would like the pillow. She asks “what for?“ I say if I put it here for her she may see that it is nicer for her, more comfortable, less hard. She allows me to do so and I continue on. I come to a dining area where there is a large wooden table, welcoming and family-like. William Buhlman is here. He motions me over and asks if I have read the books by….did he say Monroe? I lean in, emitting that I am beyond reading now and confirming  “I am one of us”. Meaning those who have gotten out.

Old man in a bed – an open room with an open door.. he is near the beginning of the structure and I am passing the room now again. He has been here sometime. He is still sleeping. I can’t believe he is still sleeping. I walk by. “Such a deep, deep sleep”, I say to the boy in the wheelchair. A very handsome and well-kept young boy, cleanly dressed, fair skin, brown hair.. he is here with his brother, they are both teenagers, roughly 12 to 13 years of age. They have switched off a large stream of water ( being caught in a bowl ) from a nozzle on the floor below, which I had turned on for some purpose relative to the old man in the bed. 

The boy in the wheelchair approaches me from outside, diving without missing a beat straight into a conversation about the shift. I am telling him that the world is going to be so different for him now. He comes back with “but there is still so much darkness”. I tell him he says this because he cannot yet see the changes. He has not lived through enough years. I begin a transfer of these to him through my own through the ages. As I am transferring to him I am seeing and experiencing the change, the alterations in the Collective and perceived world structure. This is emotional for me. The difference we have all made. Is real.

I find myself walking again now, continuing back through the structure toward the home where I have Charlie. I am wondering if I should leave him here. He has other small dog company and is just happy as can be here. I find myself knowing in reply he is here because he is with me. He is in all of the wonderful places he has been because he has been in company with me. In my reverie, like a breeze blowing through I suddenly feel a very real, very tangible swipe along the under side of my right arm. I turn to see what it is. Curious, there’s nothing here. I now feel the same tangible touch along my whole other side. 

A nice feeling presence and warm arm is around me, around my shoulders.. as I am turning to look I hear the whispered words “who are you hoping this is?” A man is here. A young man, tall, thin, shoulder length curly blonde hair. What a pleasant energy.

He has asked me another question. Or perhaps it is the same question. Who am I hoping this is. I am struggling with the answer. He takes his thumb and presses it into the anomaly at the back of my head, applying pressure here in slow spiral circles. This is helping, relieving the tension always present at this gate, re-opening me to the Cosmos.. 

He lightens his touch momentarily, looking to me.

I tell him not to worry, 
that it is good, that he can press even more deeply >>>
he does so until I see, and hear the words 

“yellow rose“


The reverberations of this event flow through me still
A thorough and deep embed, and

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