psychic energy

An argument. A woman stood perhaps fifty feet away, near an old grey wooden fence. She yelled at me and I felt incensed; I felt righteous and justified. Instead of words, I hurled my intention at her and, instantly, a ceramic plate that had been leaning against the fence smashed into pieces. She was alarmed and continued to rant, and I was surprised at the power of energy. Pleased, I again directed my anger into thought and sent it her way, another plate cracking down the middle, pieces falling to the ground.

averting disaster

I was in my bedroom, toying with what appeared to be a paper shredder. There was a long slot at the front designed to receive paper before shredding it and depositing it in a tray. I had pushed my hand into the slot and was now desperately trying to extract it, hoping my fingers would not be mangled. My brother appeared in the doorway, but he was many years younger than his real-life age; in fact, he was just a child. I called to him and asked him to help. He quickly checked that the power was off and then we pulled my hand free of the shredder. I picked him up (he was only small) and he wrapped both his arms and legs around me. I kissed him on the head and told him I loved him, rocking him gently.
The scene skipped forward and we were both in a giant building made of ice. We understood that there was a tremendous amount of water stored behind the walls and ceiling, and that, though safe right now, the situation was quite precarious. Someone was singing and we moved about the space, gliding around as though on an ice rink. Suddenly, the person singing punctured the ceiling with what I think was a knitting needle, cracking the layer of ice between the enormous body of water above and everyone below. Panic. Everyone wanted to get out of the building at once. My brother (still a child) and I rushed to the nearest exit and began sliding on our bottoms down the narrow corridor of ice, aware that the wave of water behind us was mounting. The line of people sliding with us started and stopped, people getting stuck in crevices and snared by ice build-ups. When I saw that my brother was struggling, I started to sing a song about letting things happen, allowing life to take its course and energy to flow. Somehow it helped him, and others around us, and we all slid effortlessly through the rest of the tunnel, emerging into the daylight, safe at the end.

learning

I swam in the ocean through the night, arriving on the coast of Sydney in the early hours just before dawn. I found my brother on the shore - he was much younger than in waking life, little more than a child. I took his hand and led him through sandstone passages and down rock stairs, taking us on a walk through a reknowned university. He marvelled at the architecture, at the golden stone, and at the early morning light reflected on the walls. Already, the grounds teamed with life. Students walked along the corridors, across green-grassed squares, heading somewhere. My brother wanted to go there, to learn. I pressed my forehead against his and we could feel the vibration of energy, of thought, our skulls buzzing.

lesson: the power of the mind

I was on stage with a performer. She was a magician of sorts and I was there to assist her in her act. I could not see the audience as the lights bearing down on the stage were so intensely bright, they curtained anything behind from view. I could, however, hear the audience and, because of the vast size of the stage and because they were quite vocal, I guessed that the audience was large. I felt no fear, rather I was intrigued by the woman's act. She threw a balloon in the air, toying with it for a moment, perhaps to establish that it was indeed the weight and buoyancy of a common balloon. She then batted the balloon to me. I went to bat it back, but at her command and just before it reached me, it stopped and floated straight up into the air. I could vaguely hear the crowd respond, although my attention was mostly on the occurrences onstage. I looked at the floor to see if there was something - an air vent, a camouflaged fan - that would have changed the course of the balloon so sharply. There was only an indent of someone's heel in the old wooden floor boards. The balloon descended and I caught it, felt it for a moment, and batted it back to the magician. I noticed that my arms felt very weak and that I was barely able to muster the strength to hit the balloon with enough force to send it to her. She put the balloon aside and produced a ball about the size of a basketball. Again, she toyed with the ball for a moment to communicate to the audience its weight and bouncing capacity. She threw the ball at me and, this time, I caught it. I attempted to throw it back, but, again, my arms felt as though they had no strength. Even raising the ball to prepare to throw it was extremely difficult. I lamely tossed the ball back in her direction. It bounced only a few feet in front of me and more or less rolled along the ground to her feet. She looked at me, scooped up the ball and again threw it to me. I caught it, awkwardly and with much effort, thrice feeling the utter weakness of my arms. I took a deep breath and concentrated. I thought that if I could only think it, if I could draw on my inner resources and use my mind to overcome this state, I would be able to throw the ball. I closed my eyes, focused on my rising strength, visualised it growing and saw my body powerful, and threw the ball. It shot past the magician, across the vast stage and off the other side. The magician spun around to face the ball, stretched her arms out in front of her and, using her mental energy, drew the ball back into her hands. The audience cheered and I was impressed by her ability. I realised that it was a lesson on how to use the power of your mind.