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Gregoria

Visions

Five were they, the black shapes that dotted the distance...

Nothing. That is all there was, yet what it was couldn’t quite be defined as nothing. Black, then a kaleidoscope of colorful geometric patterns playing tricks behind the eyelids as if they were living portraits from the creative mind of a mathematician. A duality of individual kaleidoscopic folds of geometry—one for each eye experienced simultaneously.

No identity—I wasn’t me, or was I? It was familiar, this form, this feeling. Never would I have conceived such a grand experience. Not like this. Contrived, I think not. Then it happened. If that were a way to put it. Past tense, present tense—all were one. It was as if time was something beyond me, or rather I was beyond it.

Desert earth beneath my feet, perpetual twilight, waving golden grass perfect in length cast right by an invisible wind that gave no sensation outside of visual ambiance, silence—my vision panned onward toward the horizon: infinite, flat, sea of golden strands dancing in silence. Five were they, the black shapes that dotted the distance contrasted so harshly against the comforting soft gold: pyramids. I am quite familiar—arranged to give a pattern to their placement, dark as night, dark enough to swallow light and possibly your essence if you were brave enough to venture closely. A figure arose out of the living blonde to contrast its rigid form in a similar fashion to the monuments looming in the ominous backdrop. It uncoiled from fetal as if sprang to motion by my presence alone—chrome black with head elongated, tail of a whip, bipedal in movement that gave a thought to it also being quite capable of quadrupedal agility. The expression that of animosity, or rather, my senses intuit to me its intentions. The plane walker charges me in a motion of a brisk walk and stern composure. I know I am destined for the obsidian wonders that give life to the otherwise endless landscape. I stiffen my right arm, taking a strong step forward, and push the length of my forearm into what would be its collar to brush it aside in a manner that was more with my will than with my brawn. The creature folded under the gravity of this graceful, nonchalant blow recomposing itself with a body language that spoke both audacity and disbelief. One step turned into two, two steps into a blur of inertia with such speed that the atmosphere seemed to bend at its momentum. I was not only at the base of one of these wondrous feats of architecture, I was already moving through its doorway. I lost sense of form, sense of body identity. I was bodiless. I could see only darkness. Soon an image came forth in my multidirectional sight that was a gate of stone that would compare to black granite. Grainy and smooth in the same likeness. It was patterned with circles and geometry that carved a symmetrical pattern diagonally but an asymmetrical pattern horizontally and vertically. It parted in four directions creating the shape of a perfectly proportioned cross upon opening. I felt a deep rumble in my being, or was it in the structure itself? I could not discern the difference. It gave no sound, it was merely a sensation that was beyond the perception of the five physical senses themselves.

An abyssal corridor going only ever downwards, as if falling, yet floating, yet swimming in the density that is darkness—walls smooth in a hexagonal pattern, even in length. I approached a threshold as the dimensions of the corridor gave way. Black water? Is this the depths of my very being? Is this “I” that am before I? It writhes in the waters, if that were what they be. Shapeless, formless—like black snakes that have no end, no head, and no tail.

I hear a language, words? A sound that shatters the solitude of the silence that has become nearly a vacuum for my observations. “To mea maxima culpa, et gregoria.” Is this a dead language? “To mea maxima culpa, et gregoria.” Surely, Latin in nature but in what sense and why in this place? Who is speaking? Give form to sound! “To mea maxima culpa, et gregoria!”

“To maxima, et Gregoria!”

“To maxima, et Gregoria!”

“To maxima, et Gregoria!”

Endless.

“To maxima, et Gregoria!” “To maxima, et Gregoria!!” “To maxima, et Gregoria!!!”

Light emanates in a magnificence I cannot possibly articulate. Phoenician? Greek? Latin?

Proto-Canaanite? The symbols rage upwards in rapidity of gargantuan monoliths scattered all around my presence—gold, warm light that cools the being with the weight of endless wisdom.

“To maxima, et Gregoria!” “To maxima, et Gregoria!!” “To maxima, et Gregoria!!!”

The light reaches its apex upon the crest of the great obelisks with heights immeasurable. I am in a cavern, smoothed to the touch, but a cavern nonetheless ancient in its construction.

Endless light.

“To maxima, et Gregoria!”

Then a reverse backwards spiral, kaleidoscopic geometric patterns of colors only gods could name.

Breath, sage, and the walls of the dark closet.

What once was familiar now alien.

Visions of the Future of Humanity

Have you ever experienced visions in your waking life? Ever taken a journey into the inner world that is interconnected with the ether from the microcosm to the macrocosm? Lucid dreaming? Astral projection?

Many have experienced a variety of similar phenomena from various cultures all around the earth from the eastern world to reaches of modern western society. There is a revival among these nearly lost, but not forgotten arts happening in this very day and age.

Metaphysical studies are reaching their ways back into the halls of modern science and finding place among many highly respected areas such as quantum mechanics. The ancients of the world had a wealth of knowledge beyond the stars that we are only now beginning to "scratch the surface" of.

I invite you to share your experiences and thoughts through email at [email protected] There is a great work being created sourcing information from all around the world encompassing ancient history, quantum mechanics, metaphysical studies, and your very own unique testimonies. Please feel free to share your stories as they will be used in a wealth of knowledge that will be given back to the world. Names may be omitted if you would like to remain anonymous. Otherwise please include your first name (last name not necessary if you do not wish it to be), the details of your story, and a little about yourself (background, what brought you to this experience, your thoughts on it, spiritual beliefs, etc.) Also, include your written consent for use of content. If you do not wish for your content to be used still feel free to share as I will source the information without names and details in the form of collective studies.

Blessed be and Namaste beautiful souls!

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Docyele Llenretep
Docyele Llenretep

Mystic, Empath, Shaman, Reiki Practitioner, Exorcist, Occultist, Poet, Writer, Healer, and Hermit. I am called many things, by many names, with many titles, but you may call me Docyele. I practice many different paths and observe all I see.

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