Dreamtime Story:

Toxins and Violence in the Psyche

Author’s Note: This is a stirring, yet real story that took place at two dimensions: DreamTime and real time in my life during the past week. I share it with you because it’s a powerful experience of how toxins become anger, chaos and violence in our psyche. It also lets us know how the universe is in constant dialogue with us and how our body can help us heal our psyche.

Murder, She Wrote: Gas Poisoning in the Reel and the Real

My studio is adjacent to the kitchen. I don’t have a TV and when I want some television or video entertainment I watch Netflix in my computer.

Last week I was watching (again) a rerun of “Murder, She Wrote.” I like good detective movies, but except for this one, all the ones done in the USA have stressful elements, such as lots of violence, car chases and explosions and unnerving music. I do not watch TV like that —especially late in the evening— because I’ve noticed that the vibrational frequency this type of violent stimulus creates stays with me and gives me violent dreams.

So here I am watching a couple of episodes of “Murder, She Wrote” when I start getting a terrible headache. I’m not headache-prone, but I’ve been having a bit of a headache because I’ve been congested, so I did not pay that much attention. However, as I watched the movie, the headache grew, and I began to feel dizzy.

At that moment the episode had a garage scene where someone tried to kill a woman by filling the garage with gas and then locking her inside.

It was at that very moment that something clicked in place and I realized that this was not a normal headache. I was having the symptoms of gas poisoning!

As I am very careful with security, such as leaving the stove badly turned off, so I could not believe that there was a gas leak; but nevertheless I quickly went to the kitchen to verify.

I was terrified to realize that one of the knobs was tilted but the plate was not lit. There had been a gas leak from the moment I finished cooking; which was about two hours.

Two hours with a small gas leak may not seem much. But it was winter, so all the windows were closed. I was poisoned!

The headache was so bad by now that after I turned off the plate I opened the door and went out to the hall to get fresh air.

My roommate showed up and opened the windows and brought me water. After the headache subsided I smelled a bit of eucalyptus to open my nasal passages.

I was grateful and aware that the universe had spoken to me through the TV show. What are the odds that you are being poisoned with gas and the episode that comes on is about someone poisoned with gas? That scene shook me up and reminded me of the symptoms of gas poisoning!

I was also grateful that we caught the gas leak before we went to sleep, and this seemed to be the end of the story.

The next night I was feeling foggy, so I practiced a head-tapping procedure that is called “Brain Codices” –from the Body Talk System. It clears up toxins from the brain, balances the brain and stimulates the body’s self-healing potential. Then I went to sleep.

Chaos and Violence

And here’s the second part of the story that took place in Dreamtime:

I am a young woman and I am in a band of counter-insurgents. We had been trained by the police to help in the overwhelming insurgency of adolescents and teenage gangs that had proliferated throughout many communities. They had found weapons and were doing killing sprees all over town, massacring civilians at school, community centers, movies and even churches.

There were too many insurgents, dozens of gangs killing everywhere, so the police trained groups of young people who wanted to help keep the order. I had such good aim that they trained me as a sharp-shooter. Here I was killing kids. Each bullet went straight to the target. I was soon second in command. I had a huge rifle and I felt strange, as if I was not myself, using this weapon to kill. Every time I hit the target, I could fill the impact in my own heart.

At the moment, the police let us know that the bands were targeting churches and we needed to move to an unprotected church. We went there. The situation was very volatile, as the insurgents had found police uniforms and used them to get into places where they massacred people, so the people were terrified and did not trust anyone. Many had armed themselves. This meant that at any time, if we were not careful, the very people we were protecting could turn against us and a free-for-all killing could ensue where many lives could be lost.

The priest was finishing the service, and we were signaling to him and showing our official badges given to us by the police to make sure that he cooperated with us and we avoided chaos. The priest came to us. He was trembling. I was trembling. We were doing the best to contain our fear in a very dangerous situation.

As the man in command explained what was happening to the priest and how he could help us protect the people and avoid a massacre, my “real” self, the Dreamer was shaking so violently that I woke up.

Real Time Interlude

I was shaking. My heart was beating terribly fast. I drank water and began to process what was going on in Dreamtime. It was about 8:40AM.

“I am not a violent person. Why am I experiencing such a violent dream?” I asked myself.

“I have not watched any violent movies,” I examined. “And I have not heard any story or read anything that contained any of the images I’m having.”

“I am a peaceful person,” I began to reprogram my psyche as I breathe deeply and gently. “I love harmony. I am not violent. These images do not belong to me and I release them.”

After a while, I go back to sleep.

Dream World, Real Time

I am back with the priest. The commander of my unit is telling him that he needs to go out there and let people know that a counter-insurgent group has been sent by the police to protect them, and that he has seen our badges. That way we ensure that they don’t start shooting when they see us.

The priest goes out and makes the announcement. I can see his body shaking from the side room where we are waiting. The people begin to panic, but he calms them down and signals us to enter.

We come in and begin to quickly organize the defense logistics.

Is there a cellar where women with children and old people can hide? Is there a way out of the cellar? Are there armed people in the church?

I am not surprised to see dozens of people take out all kinds of revolvers and guns. The churchgoers go this way and that, following instructions. We can hear the shots surrounding us now.

The Dreamer is aware of the dream and consciously interferes to wake my DreamSelf.

BodySourcing Session

It’s 9:28AM. I am terribly upset. Why is this dream persistent? What upsets me most is that I realize that this is a dimensional-traveling dream. These dreams take place when we travel to parallel dimensions. You can spot them because you look different, though you are the same, but the situation and people are very real —though you have never seen them. The dream proceeds in real-time, in chronological sequence and order. There are no big jumps as in regular dreams that are kind of surrealistic. The setting and time sequence are organized, in real time —as in real life.

Why am I in this dimension? Usually when I travel to another dimension I am being called to help in some issue: heal a person, solve some problem or learn some lesson. But it is rarely this violent. Is this other dimension at war? Is this chaos going on only in my psyche? Or am I tuning on into a dimension where the same violent frequency is happening?

Why can’t I change the dream? Why does it keep going right where I left it —actually a couple of beats ahead, as if I had been called into real time and then came back ten minutes later into the dream scene? What am I called to do?

I turn my attention to my Inner Body. I practice a process I call BodySourcing, which allows me to listen to my body’s internal language and wisdom.

The body, the subconscious and the psyche are deeply connected and when you cannot access or change what is going on in the psyche, the best route is via your Inner Body.

As I access my Emotional Body, I feel that this is not my anger. It is not my violence. It has been dumped on me.

I flow into my Mental Body and streams of memories and information flows immediately, like blood flowing through my brain.

I had felt foggy… I did the “Brain Codices”…. Violent dreams and nightmares are ways in which the psyche cleanses up, eliminating garbage…. The gas! The gas leak!… I read years ago a case in which someone was poisoned by a small gas leak for months. She became violent and ended up killing a bunch of people…. Long-term gas poisoning affects the brain’s chemistry that way…. I am returning from South Africa, were I had an operation. I am so violently angry that I cannot understand it. Nothing has really happened to me that makes me angry! I go to my healer and she takes one look at me and says: “Oh, my God Maria, why are you so angry?” She asks me a bunch of questions and when she heard that I had an operation she wants to know if I had a lot of antibiotics. “Yes, of course” is the answer. “There you are!” She says. “Antibiotics turn into anger in the energy system.” She proceeds to draw an acupuncture design that casts out that angry energy. “Swoosh!” I feel the angry energy flushed out through my neck and back of the head.

I understand that the gas affected my brain and my psyche is trying to flush the toxins.

But I exists right now in two dimensions. Part of me, the Dreamer is here dealing with what is happening. But part of me is there, in that chaotic violent world. I can feel it in my Inner Body.

My body goes into neural tremors. I surrender to the shakes because I know that I am releasing toxins and trauma.

Then I begin to sob. I sob deeply and thick tears fall down my face. Tears are detoxifying. I am feeling the trauma of my DreamSelf, of killing all those other human beings, pieces of self dying with each killing. Violence. Fear. Terror. I am feeling such pain! I am trembling, sobbing and crying for a while.

Then my body releases the energy and I feel peaceful again.

I go back to sleep.

Break Down and Break Through

We are at the commander’s house. It’s late and we are all sleeping in sleeping sacks scattered around the large living room. The commander has a little girl and she is too scared to sleep.

I have a tiny bell and I am ringing it. It’s a form of meditation that helps calm me.

But the commander tells me to stop it, as it’s making it hard for him to get the girl to sleep.

I understand, but it’s the last stroke for me. I go out, even though it’s cold outside. (It feels like fall.) I find a bat and I begin to hit this tree violently. I hit it and hit it and hit it until all the anger, violence, frustration and toxicity flows out of me. Then I hug the tree and cry.

Forgive me, beautiful tree. Please, forgive me. I am a peaceful person. I am a good person. I am kind. I am not a killer. I am not a killer. I can’t take this anymore. Help me!

The tree hugs me. I can feel it embracing me. It warms my heart with Mother Love; unconditional love and acceptance. The love from the tree fills my heart and I heals it.

As in my real life dimension the Dreamer had a good cry out, now in this Dreamtime I have a good cry out. I sob violently and thick tears flow down my face.

“I need love. I need love!” I begin to repeat as I hug the tree.

The commander has come to check me because I wasn’t back in the house. He hears me.

He takes me to his carpentry shed, lights a fire in a fireplace and tells me to wait here. He treats me with such kindness, like a father. I feel the healing protection of the Sacred Masculine.

He comes back with pillows, blankets and a warm cover. He then gets some wine glasses from a cabinet and some red wine that he had hidden for his own relaxation. He offers me wine and embraces me. He rocks me as I drink the wine and surrender to his care.

I have left my daughter asleep, under the care of Gyra (an elder that took care of our group).” he says. “But come morning I am taking you and her to my country house. It is peaceful there and you will recover. You will look after her and you will help each other heal.”

“But the people! I can’t abandon my duties!” I protest. But I know in my heart that I can’t go on.

“You are risking death,” he says. “And that is unavoidable to protect the people’s life. But you cannot lose your soul. It is your Soul that makes the difference. If you lose it, you will become like the enemies we fight. That we cannot allow.”

I know that he is speaking the truth.

In the country house, surrounded by trees and flowers, I come back to myself. I hug the little girl and she smiles.

“I will go back, but I will come back in two weeks,” the commander says. “I also need to take a break and heal.”

When the commander comes back, I have an announcement for him.

“We are healing wounds with bullets,” I start. “But bullets do not heal wounds. They inflict them. The wounds that caused these young people to become violent are not healed with bullets. Like me, they need to go through a process of releasing their anger, surrendering to their feelings, receiving Mother unconditional love and acceptance and getting Father protection. That is what will heal these youth, and that is what will stop the war. I will no longer put a bullet in these wound. I want to heal the source of the problem. I want to go to schools and communities and guide the young people through the process I just experienced.”

“Having been in the counter-insurgence, showing up to those places will be extremely dangerous for you,” the commander lets me know. But he seems to understand exactly what I am talking about.

“What I am doing now is very dangerous. I can get killed at any time. That will not be more dangerous. But I will be helping instead of killing.”

“Then I will talk to the police and see if they will create a program and give you some support,” the commander says.”

I wake up at 9:59AM, fresh, peaceful and completely rested. I allow myself a couple of hours of additional sleep to make sure that I am ready for a new day.

As I wake up again, I take some time to gather the dream and the memories.

“The violent images, noises, emotions and energy around us affect our psyche, creating violence inside,” I reflect. “But toxins also create violence in our psyche; and ~like those violent images~ they are everywhere. There is a connection between pollution and violence that I had never made before, and this experience has revealed it to me. I want to share this with others.”

And so I am doing here. What is your take on this?

Please leave your comments below.

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