I had a similar experience once not long ago, maybe a few weeks at most.
I was sleeping, and my cousin sleeping next to me. In the middle of the night all of a sudden, I opened my eyes and just looked at the direction of my cousin just above her… there was a muddy, blackish cloud right above her, and as I looked at it, it disappeared.

It was so strange because I was sleeping and just opened my eyes and looked at it. Like that was what woke me up. And as I looked at it, it disappeared. And i froze for a minute, but didn’t think much of it, and went back to sleep, thought maybe I hallucinated or something…

Then in the morning when I woke up, my cousin woke up right with me, moaning and crying. She said she’s seen a nightmare where she was almost about to die. She was kind of hysterical as she said she’d never felt death so close like that.

Anybody know anything about this or a similar experience Please share!

I just have a strange experience the other night,
and I need some help to understand what happened to me,
so while I was sleeping the other night,
I suddenly wake up and see a little shape of smoke in front of me,
then I return to my sleep.
Is anyone can tell me what is that phenomenon ?
Thanks
Love
Damien

Somehow and in some strange way, freedom is right now so very important to me.

And the theme of abortion and sex is carrying over for me from the other page.

Here is something that I wrote a while ago.

I hope it works for you.

With all of my best wishes,
Alan

Our Children Bleed.

Measure, measure,
Conform.
Measure, measure,
Outcome.
Measure, measure,
Agree.
Measure, measure,
Die.

Is it safe?
Will they sue?
Where did I put my cabbages?

Our children bleed,
They are so scared,
Like a pillow in their faces,
We stifle and suffocate.

How did we get here????

We put a condom on life,
Lubricated with rationality,
Packaged in nonoxyl nine,
Sold in day glow green,
With strawberry flavour.

Will they still love me when I fail?

Scream.
Scream at the top of your lungs!!
Howl at the moon!!

There HAS to be more…..

Bow down at the temple of the mind,
Worship at the altar of logic,
Listen to the language.

But that email said this,
Therefore I conclude.
Damned for all times,
By words in your words and for your words.

Face value?

How?
How did they miss?
How could they possibly miss?

The feeling……..

Don’t you know,
Emotion is a dirty word?
Let’s be sensible.
Let’s be rational.

NO!

Take away those ropes,
I do not want them.

Take away that chain,
It will not hold me.

I feel…

I feel……..

While we wait and discuss,
I have gone limp.
I am not interested anymore,
The moment has passed.

That spark was there,
But safety deflates,
Like wet blanket to fire.

Life is not rational.
It is…
Well, it is what it is….

No it is not!
We CAN control it.
We know our destiny.

The clown laughs.

Legacy,
Is a terrible word.
That is what we leave.

Lubricated with rationality,
Packaged in nonoxyl nine,
Sold in day glow green,
With strawberry flavour.

Many many happy returns of the day.

It is not which publishing industry you choose and how you develope your ideas into the marketplace. Even though, the traditional publishing has been successful around all over the time. The rise of vanity press could not be underestimated.

Writer always wants to give and that is the best thing that they could offer to world. Thanks for taking your time and showing your respect to all over new media( either it is Internet or was previously radio and TV.)

Today only, I published my fourth book with subtitle, “…109 Quotes, 07 Poems and a Song of despair…”
http://www.lulu.com/content/6430704/

There are always a two sides of the coin and where there is good, there will be bad. Nobody can change that. If I have to wait for the Editor and traditional publishers they will take ages before they would accept my manuscript and I do not like it. Maybe later in future, I will try with few books. Well, “I am the Editor of my own destiny, even though it is called unsolicited; I know how to make unsolicited to solicited.” Remember, Nothing is bad until and unless you decide to think so..,

Anyways, Good luck with your new project and May god gives you the success you deserve.

God bless you all !

TARA GOES HOME

As Tara floats in and out of consciousness, strange sounds keep streaming out as if from a different world. Their reverberations keep pouring over her inert body. It all rings in her head, then forces her to wake up. Why is she lying down? She tries remembering. What had happened?

Rumbling raucously the bus she was travelling in had suddenly come to a yelping halt. She faintly recalled her teeth almost got shattered on the seat ahead. Yes, her mouth ached like hell now. The woman behind, the one with the kid, had tumbled off and hit a metal post next to where Tara fell. Incoherent screams rose around her. Seemed the bus had hit something and tilted to one side. Tara even tugged at the fallen woman’s feet trying to help but the boy lurched on to her lap, crying. Then a tumbling human pile further flattened her. Oh God!

Tara finally comes around, a bored female voice invading her consciousness: “Madam, you’re at the government hospital. There are people inquiring after one Tara from Shahdara. Are you Tara Chibber?”

Yes, she is.

Dizzy images of faces contorted in muffled cries and machines humming ominously in the room crowd her tired eyes.
**
This evening had discovered a new resolute Tara. She finally chose this date on the dog-eared calendar and hopped out with it. A gamble. Surprised at her own ability to wriggle out from her joint family cocoon to reach out to something or someone. Still a little shell-shocked by her own audacity, Tara realised that she’d have to pick a destination or else the bus driver would think Tara’s crazy, sitting on this loop-route like someone’s forgotten piece of belonging. The driver wouldn’t know why she was here or what happened to her when things happened.

There was nothing new in Tara’s routine. No one noticed her anymore in the house. Only a clock on the shelf top nodded in a familiar tick-tock to her. The tacky old Delhi neighbourhood never seemed to get a makeover. Same lifeless saris drying from paint-chipped balconies, same suffocating incense wafting off, and same footsteps on broken stairs while she wandered indoors. Curtains hanging from window brackets danced absentmindedly while she warmed her dinner plate alone. Sat before the television watching news. The room freshener, rose or jasmine, didn’t change either. Not surprising. She’d been living with these sorts of details for unnumbered days.
**
Tara looked around inside the bus. Office folks were gone. Others were likely out to shop or pay visits. She too could go meet an old friend, call on a relative or shop somewhere. Only, it wasn’t as easy. She rarely went out on her own.
Meanwhile, darkness was descending upon the city like a mushroom, spongy and patchy with fog. Twinkling city lights began appearing, deepening the falling evening. First a hush, then a gurgling glimmer of lights, and then a broad inaudible swish – sweeping billboards started getting illuminated over the grey skyline. Streaks of cars flashed by and each light post stood guard, staring mutely down at the circle of its own shimmer. The mushroom fell like a cosmic parachute. Midway, it floated upside down, perhaps due to the changing twilight breeze. The earth below palpitated, probably from the fear of bearing the dominating weight of the dusk covering its belly in a rapturous embrace, thought Tara. Staring into the night she flipped through the pages of her life.

Twenty-two: She’s married. Laughter, music and merrymaking.

Twenty-three: She’s as fresh as the chrysanthemum in the living room vase, bursting with secret pride, fed and indulged. Tara, watch your step. Don’t lift heavy things. At the threshold of motherhood.

Twenty-four: A secret test confirms a baby girl. She’s forced to get rid of it. This family wants a male heir.

Tara shut the book. It’s too painful.

The wintry evening whirred like a panicky bug, wings stuck on the frosty glass pane of the bus. Tara clutched a little purse, a testament to her barren fortune. A cheap lipstick for lips that had lucked out of its admirer, a compulsive gambler father’s gift of a lottery ticket, a voter ID card, and a few dry petals from a stale-smelling temple where she had grudgingly prayed for a change in her fate.

Aware of the driver’s stare through the mirror, Tara fidgeted. “Madam, do you have a destination? Where are you from and where do you want me to halt,” he must be thinking. A group of teenagers giggled in a huddle. An old man with a crutch waited to get down. As the bus wobbled to a stop, loud middle-aged men with beer breath boarded the bus almost pushing the old man aside. They kept cracking bawdy jokes that tumbled down their silly paunches, unshaven cheeks, crumpled shirts and sloth manners. Tara avoided looking at them. She is not supposed to be seen alone by strangers in an unknown part of the city. Delhi is bad, often bizarre. Someone might recognise her. At the next stop, a woman climbed up with a little boy of about two years. The child, sitting right behind, kept crying. “Shut up Aman,” the mother admonished repeatedly, breaking Tara’s train of thought:

Twenty-six: She has prayed to all those gods and goddesses nestling in golden domes and heavenly canopies. But she fails again. Tara, not a daughter, no.

Twenty-seven: She’s an apparition of herself. She walks about the house in stranger’s footprints. She wants to be lucky. Tara, it’s for family honour that you must find out who inhabits your womb – a son for our only son, not a daughter.

These days her husband was away to London on a business venture. It could take a few months before he was back.

By that time, regain your health, Tara. The family chants like a pack of crazy priests. Offer food in temples, seek blessings, and eat, drink and inhale the pollen that’ll embed the male fruit in your womb.

Outside, Tara saw the mushroom had long fallen on the belly of the earth and split and morphed into a mass of dark shadows, creating fearful inky whirlpools that kept pulling Tara unto them. She felt like howling. She wished to be free and uninvaded. From those that owned her, from the bus driver’s stares in the mirror, from the drunken laughter around, and the harsh “Don’t cry Aman” of the woman behind her. To go home.

(continued…)

so – sending safe and best wishes – as he is staying in Sudan

x

[p.s. Jessica - don't give up heart - wishing you health and that recovery] xxx

Prefiro ser essa estrela solitária
Rompendo o Infinito das noites
Do Tempo e de minha alma.
Estrela solitária…
Rebelde, livre, solidária;
Sem ser prenhe do bem ou semeadora do mal,
Sou variável, imprevisível, marginal.

http://www.dailymotion.com:80/video/x3han4_israel-kamakawiwoole-somewhere-over_music

No, I shall not forget 2 rainbow on the mountain in this July 2006 – an alliance( – a strong link for two: thank you for the song and the love carried with this message .
Love

also on Le Monde
http://www.lemonde.fr
Le gouvernement va interdire les bonus aux entreprises aidees par l’Etat. The government will stop bonuses to companies that get subsidised by the State.

IBM supprime 5,000 emplois aux Etats Unis et delocalise en Inde.
IBM cuts 5,000 jobs in the US and relocate in India.

Also on Marina of Light
French to compensate nuclear victims (France tested nuclear weapons in Algeria and in Tahiti (total nr of tests 210)
http://www.marinamasters.com/nieuw/index.html

So how would it affect us! At ground zero you could go blind from the blast or incur major to mild eye damage. For hundreds of miles around the shockwave may be felt. Satellites would be destroyed and damaged depending what they are aiming at, most probable form a mad man he would like to deploy the most amount of damage he can, so the international space station may be a target. Otherwise we would loose mobile & phone connection and internet services would be affected along with TV, radio and GPS. Other science development would be also hindered…

About twenty minuets after the blast, the USA and South Korea would begin an invasion, bombs would be dropped reducing parts of the country to dust. Civilian casualties would be minor. During this upheaval Pakistan could suffer a government overthrow by the Taliban moving in from the Swat Valley. India would have to counter attack to keep the area secure and avoid a nuclear attack on its major cities.