140101 Great!
Another year over. And another dream.
So, after being
kept awake by juvenile occultists, ie., Queenslannders-in-general,
and ice-age-ist Americans, from about 00:15AM through to 3 or 4, I
fell back into an unconsciousness, shallow, and had a dream, which,
unusually, with weird bits, was quite 'lucid'.
I seemed to have
leased an ex-Yamaha motorcycle shop premises.
The images and
events were with the shop/warehouse being located in Church Street
Richmond, Melbourne inner eastern suburb, between Victoria Street and
Bridge Street.
After waking, I
reviewed it and recalled the shop the scenes were played out in, in
the dream, was actually the one I used to buy a few things from, in
Burnley Street, Richmond.
Nevertheless....,
I'd leased the premises, confluent with my six year search for a
'shed' simply to complete my mobile hut in, and, as dreams go, was
talking with a bloke, it seems, from a 'Yamaha' shop, who said “So,
you want a consignment?”
I replied with
some hesitance, “yeah”.
Whence a truck
load of still crated new Yammies was allofasudden there, unloaded, in
the same place.
It might have
been before that scene, that I was being taken through a series of
depictions of events outside of my past, with scenes of fights
between sizable numbers of people, all Australian, males, and, from
those unseen signals one gets in dreams - especially dreams with
distinct messages in them - it was between people sorting out those
who'd done me over, the last 25 years.
'Graphic' scenes
of around 20-to-30-plus blokes lying smashed on the floor in two
scenes, of similar types of premises - shops or warehouses, legs
badly bent and broken, as-if some tribe of them had been defeated.
'Audible'
messages came through from a narrator of the dream, that the war had
been won by 'my' side, against and smashing the scum who'd gone to
extraordinary lengths to fuck my life over the last 30 years.
The smashed males
lying together across a warehouse type floor indicating the story
visually.
'Faces' appeared
walking in the room and passed me, who at the time, the 1980s, and in
the dream, were very familiar faces, mainly I think from some of the
shops in Melbourne I frequented when I was apparently onside or OK
with the Melbourne motorcycle scene.
But I can't place
them in awake mode as blokes I did know, but a few linger as persons
from some of my 'favorite' bike shps, wreckers etc., who I recall
looking at me in the days when I was just beginning to be shit on, as
if they were something like uncertain as to whether I deserved the
coning punishment, or that it was unfair, or that they were more
intelligent than to side with the shitheads.
'Friendly', or
onside blokes, walking in through the dream as if to show they were
part of the Mob who were finally tackling the scum, from, it showed,
the same motorcycle retail scene of the 1980s in Melbourne.
The underlying
message was that the scum had finally been smashed.
But other aspects
- my 'leasing' property in Melbourne, which can be interpreted as
simply being in Victoria, my home state - and being hassled by a
'Yamaha' bike shop owner or manager, or such, who delivered too
quickly, the 'consignment' of bikes, could refer to my want to
resettle in Victoria, after 15 years basically exiled, by these same
motorcycling fraternity, and media, scum.
Surely the dream
was a collage of my various thoughts, dreams, ideas and hopes, hopes
mostly well known to be in-vain, since sister Wendy, well, since I
first put it to the family for a loan to buy a cheap piece of land in
- Victoria, in early 2013.
So, having spent
the last 10 months perhaps, scanning real estate websites, viewing
'for sale' pages of everything from a 950 acre piece of high country
bliss, to shitty sheds in Coburg, or Traralgon, but either a piece of
rural land to start a humble abode away from the scum - other white
people - or any shed that might be enough to fit ute, trailer, ute
hut project, benches, equipment, tools and materials, and a bit more
to spread out in, it's understandable the dream had as a central
'theme' this warehouse situation, and the suggestion of a workshop.
And, even of 'retailers', who were up and friendly to me, who were
straight with me before any rumors and plans and conspiracies to
destroy me were active.
I've looked at
and laughed to myself at lots of rural old and dilapidated garages
and auto-workshops, dreaming, for nothing else to do, about that old
'romantic' biker's idea of owning a quiet country town motorbike
shop, with - a workshop out back.
So while this
dream was located in Richmond, the general theme of a motorbike shop
was predominant.
But, above it
all, I woke with the distinct feeling that my exile of the last
20-plus years was due to a bunch of Melbourne motorcycle riders and
retailers, possibly with Yamaha central to the group, banding
together to fuck my life. And, that some better minded crew, had
finally got 'em.
Of course,
indistinct as dreams usually are, I'm still left unsure as to whether
this was trying to say I can return to Melbourne or even eastern
Victoria at last, to buy and settle, and die? It might have been
saying I'll never be able to?
Being landed with
the 'consignment' of crated bikes, before I actually decided I was
either interested, or able to go that 'retail' or such, path,
indicated I was still open to being set-up - AGAIN - by such scum.
I'm not too
pissed about that. I've deferred to hopelessness and my remaining
years of being shit on by them, which is why I stay withdrawn from
all society. So all notions of any form of commercial enterprise is
out of the question. Besides, I'm 59 in 4 months, tired of life, hate
western culture, and all who blithely consume it, and know well that
I'd be setting myself up for disaster were I to venture into any form
of business which depended upon consumers/buyers and suppliers.
On the other
hand, without signals and GUARANTEES clear and well written, signed
by the fucking QUEEN herself, or such, that I could start something
of a life again, in one of those 'dreamed-of' semi-retiring quiet
country town shops, I know, as I came to see in such as Brisbane,
when I moved there in about 1998, driving taxis, that most of my
customers were 'set-ups', and if I'd done good, that day, I'd make
heaps. But if I hadn't done good, they'd short change me, and I'd be
sent to despair in anger and minimal takings with their filthy
attitudes and even runners without paying, etc.
As well...,
knowing my other side now, of being a fucking exiled monarch, I know
any or all the trade I might have come through the doors, would be
patronizing and sent in, either to make me feel good, or simply to
perv at this idiot without a life, but with masses of occult beings
floating around my 4th dimensional aura.
And anyone else,
would be so patronizing and 'pretendly' as to make me hate the whole
situation quicksmart.
But, I'll think
again of the dream no doubt, and might recall more bits of it, which
might fill gaps and make clear the message.
Dunno?
It'll take quite
a lot more than a programmed - input - uploaded dream with many weird
and indistinct visuals in it, to convince me to like almost anyone I
knew - er - I thought I knew over the last 58 - 59 years, or to trust
any such messages, or to even trust any face-to-face conversation,
and offerings without tangible guarantees, in this alleged awake
dream state.
Ten million
dollars Australian [ $10,000,000,000 ] [ yeah, that's ten billion,
I know! ] MINIMUM would get me off my haunches on any such road to my
psychological, emotional and humane, social recovery.
Indeed, with what
I do think I have in the talents departments, and thus the
possibilities I once had of making a healthy, honest and rich life
for myself until motorcycle shop/media/courier scum ruined it all,
without being one bit arrogant, I reckon I shouldn't have to pay one
cent for -
a fleet of BSAs
a few Harley
choppers,
a sea-going
launch,
a HUGE
fully-equipped shed to tinker to my hearts desire in,
about 500 acres
of pristine mountain country,
and ready access
to all and any materials I decide are best for a rural enclave, and
to build my desired world-traveling ute hut 4x4 mobile
home/chariot/war-truck/drag-racer.
At this stage, I
am simply too old to have to fuck around building
a house,
a shed,
fencing - like 20
foot high six feet thick radio-active and high voltage WALLS around
the 500 acres,
a nuclear
war-proof 500 foot deep bunker,
a large bank of
nuclear warhead missiles to throw back at the scum when they finally
flip right out,
and the other
stuff to finally feel 'safe' and relaxed, let alone comfortable in!
And - a fridge!
Thanks for trying
though?
However,
realizing I have been 'induced' to have a bad habit of
'self-sabotaging' efforts to get me whatever, and that this dream
might be a positive sign, while this e-ssay has my generally negative
and FUCK YOU! attitude to it, I will try, for a few days at least,
seeing as it is a new year, to look positively again at finding
something to lease at least, and to buy in Victoria.
I hope my new
years resolution thing, myth and futile as I've come to regard such,
lasts?
And, were any of
this life to bear healthy fruit, at this late stage, and were any of
my 'requests' for compensation to manifest, I would refuse any
returns if I knew they were out of the pockets of those who were -
behind the war scenes - still onside with me and my weird warlike
antipathies to egomaniacal scum of the ----- type.
NB: While I
still get stalked when I go shopping, set-up buy vendors and
retailers with shit produce, phone camera pics taken of me or of the
ute, curses touched on my aura, on my ute, in my sheds, still....,
IT'S
WAR, SCUM!
Those who
actually were actively slaying the demons, know I do not mean against
them.
Happy New Year to
you all!
JUST
DEFIANCE
Brayakooloong
Gunai Indigenous Outlaw
Australia
All
Praise the Immortals!
All
Praise the Warriors who have fallen
Fighting
for a Just World!
from
the Travelling 4x4 Tent of
JUST
DEFIANCE
GENERAL BLUE MEANEE
Bleck
- Green - Red
Wisdom
- Intelligence - Honor
GLOBAL
Advocating
Cult,
Land,
Tax,
Housing,
Family,
Agricultural,
Drug,
Work,
Education,
Environmental
&
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LAW
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