Sports should exist free of politics, if the honorable values of sportsmanship and fair play matter most. Unfortunately, any time wealth and power gather around an organization, the government and other political entities will take interest. ...
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Is the rapture coming for me?
5/21/11 - my growing suspicions
I've been busily denying the signs for some time now, but I can feel that something is searching for me, a greater power calling. My recent dreams have been crowded, their hazy slideshows filled with images of friends, coworkers, and the hordes of the city recreated in shadows. Upon waking, I have recalled few details from my night flights. But invariably, I've carried memories of tense gatherings and conflict into the sunlit world. This dream residue has stuck with me throughout each day, hovering like a toxic miasma around the edges of my consciousness, befouling my mood and outlook. It doesn't help that some mornings I have snorted awake only briefly, then sunk back into the dreamscape for a continuation of the same garbled puppet-plays. I keep drifting deeper, perhaps into some other person's dreams, to the point that other presences have seemingly noticed and cast me out! I feel like some piper is trying to lead me away.
Today, well, today is probably not significant. But it might be a clue. Some godly fool has calculated that the end of the world will begin this evening, when the faithful flock will be shepherded home to heaven, leaving the rest of us to our self-inflicted dooms. He, like other miscalculating prophets before him, has called this calling home of saints the rapture.
Now, I put little faith in the divine predictions of men, particularly those who've picked wrong before. I do not doubt that the sun will rise tomorrow. But I'm becoming ever more fearful that one night I will go to sleep, and dream, and then never truly wake. I can't shake the impression that something has been guiding my nighttime journeys, and drawing me where I don't belong. What if that steering force turns out to be intelligent? Its nature wouldn't really matter -- human, alien, corporeal, ghostly. If it really could invade dreams and yank my mind away from my body, the thing would seem pretty godlike to me!
How then can I be sure I'm not being prepared for another sort of rapture?
I've been busily denying the signs for some time now, but I can feel that something is searching for me, a greater power calling. My recent dreams have been crowded, their hazy slideshows filled with images of friends, coworkers, and the hordes of the city recreated in shadows. Upon waking, I have recalled few details from my night flights. But invariably, I've carried memories of tense gatherings and conflict into the sunlit world. This dream residue has stuck with me throughout each day, hovering like a toxic miasma around the edges of my consciousness, befouling my mood and outlook. It doesn't help that some mornings I have snorted awake only briefly, then sunk back into the dreamscape for a continuation of the same garbled puppet-plays. I keep drifting deeper, perhaps into some other person's dreams, to the point that other presences have seemingly noticed and cast me out! I feel like some piper is trying to lead me away.
Today, well, today is probably not significant. But it might be a clue. Some godly fool has calculated that the end of the world will begin this evening, when the faithful flock will be shepherded home to heaven, leaving the rest of us to our self-inflicted dooms. He, like other miscalculating prophets before him, has called this calling home of saints the rapture.
Now, I put little faith in the divine predictions of men, particularly those who've picked wrong before. I do not doubt that the sun will rise tomorrow. But I'm becoming ever more fearful that one night I will go to sleep, and dream, and then never truly wake. I can't shake the impression that something has been guiding my nighttime journeys, and drawing me where I don't belong. What if that steering force turns out to be intelligent? Its nature wouldn't really matter -- human, alien, corporeal, ghostly. If it really could invade dreams and yank my mind away from my body, the thing would seem pretty godlike to me!
How then can I be sure I'm not being prepared for another sort of rapture?
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Firstborn Underground
I had joined a refugee group searching for safe shelter in an entirely under-earth realm, where surface traditions persisted against more sensible adaptations. White linen shirts and our lone child in a blue-checked cotton dress – I would have thought reinforced leathers and metal protection more appropriate to a spelunking corps. I knew tragedy on a world scale had driven these to the below lands some years previous, but by their garb I could not decide what earthly decade had birthed them. Nonetheless, our silver-haired leader scrambled forward with heavy responsibility tensing his brow and shoulders. In this inherited subterranean land, our young girl walked unknowing she represented the only autochthon among hundreds of replanted survivors. Deep eyes almost glowing in the shade, she needed not the torches and half-shut lanterns we rest required. I wondered what else nature had wrought in her to preserve mankind.
Such ruminations I put aside, though, as our hard-faced leader turned us into a larger cavern that descended like a jagged scar into the depths. Immediately we noticed the new chamber bore the marks of human inhabitants everywhere. Predictably, the outer earth exiles had carved and dug into the cave’s walls, manufacturing more uniform buildings, structures of multiple stories, and window-pierced facades. Our native child frowned gently to see the artificial legacy her ancestors had brought down for their scions. To my insubstantial eyes, as well, the entire world still appeared uniquely foreign and incorrectly alien. My astral senses, however, could tell that the main bulk of our companions found the familiar geometries and designs a quite welcome homecoming. As such, they caught sight of the intrusion first, and soon drew my vision into alignment with theirs, tugged by the guiding strings of dream bonds.
Along one wall, an utterly lightless circular hole sat alone, its location aloof and surely placed by fate’s whim into its unobstructed setting. Black beyond any underworld stretch we had passed to that point, the hole extended diagonally downward in a limitless chute. ‘A bore hole to the hollow world’s empty gulfs,’ sprang as words and omniscient flashes into my mind. Creatures no kin of man had crafted the yawning, narrow tunnel, and some unheard call would again bring them driving upwards into this ruptured sanctuary.
Now gathered those settlers of the cavern who till that moment of epiphany had hung back beyond rock walls and dream veils. Pressing close, comments uttered soundlessly disdained our coming, though likewise marveled at the autochthonic girl staring with glowing jet eyes about her. These people pointed excitedly at the dark cutout tunnel, fearing it beyond death. Interspersed with their gesticulations were further remarks regarding our pioneering charge. It seemed, according to the mysterious workings of my psychic ear, that whatever hellish entities had formed the bore would hunt the girl with fiendish intent. Indeed, the silver-haired leader of our group already sensed their malevolent climb and ordered us all to blend in and hide. Under no circumstances could we allow the pit spawn to claim their fleshly prize.
What surprised me in the following minutes, as my dream self drifted behind columns and between hiding places in the carved dwellings, was how mind-numbingly scared I became as the monsters arrived. I could feel them creeping, slithering, and floating forth from their hell tunnel. And while my sleeping eyes refused to peek out and view their forms, my astral heart beat thunderously in terror for knowing what unseen horrors lurked around the column. Certainly my companions, sheltering and shuttling the girl among the rooms, anticipated doom in a reconnoitering dark shape. But it has been some time since sheer terror caused me to awake, especially at the sight of one baleful eye.
Such ruminations I put aside, though, as our hard-faced leader turned us into a larger cavern that descended like a jagged scar into the depths. Immediately we noticed the new chamber bore the marks of human inhabitants everywhere. Predictably, the outer earth exiles had carved and dug into the cave’s walls, manufacturing more uniform buildings, structures of multiple stories, and window-pierced facades. Our native child frowned gently to see the artificial legacy her ancestors had brought down for their scions. To my insubstantial eyes, as well, the entire world still appeared uniquely foreign and incorrectly alien. My astral senses, however, could tell that the main bulk of our companions found the familiar geometries and designs a quite welcome homecoming. As such, they caught sight of the intrusion first, and soon drew my vision into alignment with theirs, tugged by the guiding strings of dream bonds.
Along one wall, an utterly lightless circular hole sat alone, its location aloof and surely placed by fate’s whim into its unobstructed setting. Black beyond any underworld stretch we had passed to that point, the hole extended diagonally downward in a limitless chute. ‘A bore hole to the hollow world’s empty gulfs,’ sprang as words and omniscient flashes into my mind. Creatures no kin of man had crafted the yawning, narrow tunnel, and some unheard call would again bring them driving upwards into this ruptured sanctuary.
Now gathered those settlers of the cavern who till that moment of epiphany had hung back beyond rock walls and dream veils. Pressing close, comments uttered soundlessly disdained our coming, though likewise marveled at the autochthonic girl staring with glowing jet eyes about her. These people pointed excitedly at the dark cutout tunnel, fearing it beyond death. Interspersed with their gesticulations were further remarks regarding our pioneering charge. It seemed, according to the mysterious workings of my psychic ear, that whatever hellish entities had formed the bore would hunt the girl with fiendish intent. Indeed, the silver-haired leader of our group already sensed their malevolent climb and ordered us all to blend in and hide. Under no circumstances could we allow the pit spawn to claim their fleshly prize.
What surprised me in the following minutes, as my dream self drifted behind columns and between hiding places in the carved dwellings, was how mind-numbingly scared I became as the monsters arrived. I could feel them creeping, slithering, and floating forth from their hell tunnel. And while my sleeping eyes refused to peek out and view their forms, my astral heart beat thunderously in terror for knowing what unseen horrors lurked around the column. Certainly my companions, sheltering and shuttling the girl among the rooms, anticipated doom in a reconnoitering dark shape. But it has been some time since sheer terror caused me to awake, especially at the sight of one baleful eye.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Executed for Sedition
We were under some sort of oppressive regime, in a place where either you were totally on the side of the government or they were going to find you and put you in a camp. And I was in a basement where people were hiding out and trying to fight back. I think technology played a big part in the conflict, and the government wanted it. So these people were either trying to get a hold of the tech and spirit it away, or maybe advanced technology had been forbidden and now the underground was working to develop it in some manner. Either way, there were a bunch of us -- I don't know how many -- trying to plot a way out of the country.
We heard a sound upstairs, like someone was coming in, and we got really scared. But it turned out to be this woman, just a normal lady in a coat, no uniform. She was very calm, trying to reassure us that everything was fine. I remember being confused, because it still felt as though we were under an aggressive dictator at war. Being an American, a comparison to Nazi Germany popped into my sleep-muddled head. Right or wrong, we have stereotypical images of that place and era, and I knew my underground gang was in a country like that, which had also gone to war with its neighbors. Then this woman tells us no, the war is between other people over there, across the water. She says nothing is spreading, no tyrant has the people in his sights. I wanted to believe her, but we were convinced that we were completely controlled.
One of my comrades in hiding told her he did not believe it, and it seemed like his words set off a trap.
The woman hadn't moved, hadn't changed her pleasant demeanor, but now a troop of soldiers were marching down the stairs. They wore the dark uniforms of secret police or storm troopers. The soldiers radiated heartless menace. They stomped down into the basement and circled us. One evil man led them. We knew him as the dictator, like some Mussolini come himself to round us up. The soldiers fanned out and one came up to me. I closed my eyes as he put something metal -- it must have been a gun -- up against my neck. I just wanted whatever was going to happen not to hurt. It started to feel so warm on my neck just then, and I got so scared that I woke up.
What bothers me now is how I just closed my eyes and cowered like a rabbit. I should have ducked, or kicked the guy, or fought somehow! I knew the soldier was going to kill me, and all I did was hope it would be painless? I wouldn't act like that in real life, would I?
We heard a sound upstairs, like someone was coming in, and we got really scared. But it turned out to be this woman, just a normal lady in a coat, no uniform. She was very calm, trying to reassure us that everything was fine. I remember being confused, because it still felt as though we were under an aggressive dictator at war. Being an American, a comparison to Nazi Germany popped into my sleep-muddled head. Right or wrong, we have stereotypical images of that place and era, and I knew my underground gang was in a country like that, which had also gone to war with its neighbors. Then this woman tells us no, the war is between other people over there, across the water. She says nothing is spreading, no tyrant has the people in his sights. I wanted to believe her, but we were convinced that we were completely controlled.
One of my comrades in hiding told her he did not believe it, and it seemed like his words set off a trap.
The woman hadn't moved, hadn't changed her pleasant demeanor, but now a troop of soldiers were marching down the stairs. They wore the dark uniforms of secret police or storm troopers. The soldiers radiated heartless menace. They stomped down into the basement and circled us. One evil man led them. We knew him as the dictator, like some Mussolini come himself to round us up. The soldiers fanned out and one came up to me. I closed my eyes as he put something metal -- it must have been a gun -- up against my neck. I just wanted whatever was going to happen not to hurt. It started to feel so warm on my neck just then, and I got so scared that I woke up.
What bothers me now is how I just closed my eyes and cowered like a rabbit. I should have ducked, or kicked the guy, or fought somehow! I knew the soldier was going to kill me, and all I did was hope it would be painless? I wouldn't act like that in real life, would I?
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