In this third dream, I am in a city, supposedly in the black part of town.
I am at a barbershop in a tall brick building that is sorta narrow.
I am talking to a guy named Stan Verret. He is thinking about getting his hair twisted again but that it costs a lot of money, he says, so you need a good job or be independently wealthy.
He said it cost him $5,500 last time for one session.
Of course I am shocked and tell him it only cost me $65 in Chicago.
The owner of the building says he gets $125 per day from each barber spot he rents.
I said I know my nephew in Atlanta is not getting that much, I'm going to call him and let him know.
The barber also said he gets $50 for a haircut.
I keep thinking, what is going on here that people are paying a lot more for the same thing?
I say I want to go outside and get some air. Since the way out is not within sight, I open a window and say, I'll just climb out. The guys try to stop me, but since we are on the first floor I figure it is close to the ground.
It is not.
It is one of those story and a half first floors or a floor on a platform type deals.
One of the guys inside gets all excited and I can hear him saying, I told you, I knew that dude was crazy and cool!
I walk around the building. It has a giant-sized parking lot in back. Plenty enough room for more buildings and parking.
I keep walking to the left of the barbershop.
I hear music and recognize it is coming from Mount Zion church that has a brick-paved parking lot and a beautiful brick building, of course.
I assume choir practice is going on.
I walk around the building to the front where there is a sidewalk and paved street that seems like a well-khept business district.
I begin walking to the left in the direction of where I came from.
I then hear Christmas music coming from the church. There is a window display and trees in the parkway from which music is flowing.
These people ain't playing.
I somehow must have lost track of space, time or walked through an open gate.
On the sidewalk there is a large crowd dressed up going somewhere.
I decide to wait a few minutes while they take pictures of themselves.
All of a sudden a woman starts to sing, then a man they call Pavarotti begins to sing also and the group is loudly delighted.
He is a much younger much slimmer version of Luciano.
As the wedding party begins to enter the building, the bride and groom go first, then some of the youngest and oldest family members. One of the young boys is lanky and has on an ill-fitting suit that is as gaudy as the leisure suits we used to wear. I guess that's what Italians wear, movies don't lie.
One man in the group grabs the mother of one of those getting married. He holds her hand and puts the other arm around her waist as he rushes her up the steps.
She stumbles and falls to her knees, falls forward and bumps her forehead. The crowd gasps and seems delighted. This happens again, and after the woman stands up, she is also laughing. From under one of the layers of her dress, she shows everyone a large key ring with large keys and trinkets. She says she got them from the other family because it is tradition for them to give the mothers a gift and no one thought she had been given a gift. The crowd is even more satisfied.
I wait till they all walk up the steps. I quickly decide to peek in for a quick second.
I am grabbed from behind by a guy I know but don't remember how. I am not sure if he is black but sure he is not white, or Italian white.
We both stand out in the crowd.
This guy is fast-moving and fast-talking.
On the way up, he stops and says he is also invited to the wedding and assumes I am too.
He grabs me again and rushes me indoors.
I am still stuck on, who the hell is this?
By the time I can speak we are among the other guests and I tell him I was not invited.
He says that's okay I'll take care of it. He darts off like a dragonfly.
The guy at the wedding comes back and tells me to wait right here.
People are moving about and I am sure they will figure out I am a wedding crasher, even though somehow I am now dressed for the occasion. More channelvision magic.
The guy comes back and hands me two drinks, one clear and one not. He says this is blood and this is juice.
I'm now stuck on, what's happening? So I can't get a word out before the guy is gone again.
I just stand there and keep thinking, I've heard of gin and juice in the same glass but not blood and juice. Which is which? What's going on here? Should I leave before things get worse? If I drink any alcohol will I lose track of time and not find my way back?
This is certainly reminiscent of the Uaka festival when the inundation has arrived where the two become three at Kep-En-Teriu. The drinks were the spiritual soul food called ichor.
Another version is “And he saith unto him, Friend, how camest thou in hither not having a wedding garment? And he was speechless. Then said the king to the servants, Bind him hand and foot, and take him away, and cast him into outer darkness, there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matthew 22:12-13)
So much for, come as you are.
In the larger sense of, Come as you are, the meaning does not mean in the clothes you are wearing but come in the spiritual clothes you are wearing, the form of creation you are. Come forth as the person you are, invited or not. The party planners and party-goers are not the building owners. Come thou hither in this world as the person you were created to be.
What is your bloodline and what is it's juice?
Eat and drink from ba meri.
