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An Agent of Neverworld

Morning of October 22, 2013. Tuesday.

This is a highly unusual and very long dream. It starts out almost like a somewhat vague origin story in a comic book (with some sort of unknown “powers” growing in me), but there is no even transition between my first to second “place” in the movie-length events. I seem myself at first, although there are unusual moods and images - I do not even look like myself for the rest of my dream (after I become the agent).

I am in Wisconsin again and am in the backyard near a small metal fence between houses. I think it is a garden area, but there are not that many larger plants. Right near the bottom of the fence itself, in an area of mostly only dirt, are what looks like a couple of bones, still with some of the fur and sinew on. I soon discover that one is the front-right leg of a cat with a small bit of fur with tiger stripes. I find some other pieces, including a skull, and it feels a bit strange and sad. I set them to my left in an area just off from the garden. After a short time, the pile of bones, fur, and sinew seems to rise and lower as if in breathing motions. Oddly, I see now that it is a living cat (which is now more like a black and white one than a tiger or tabby) that was injured badly but is now doing a bit better (as I had put the parts together) so that he is able to get up but still has a large gaping hole on his left side through which the lungs can be seen moving. He gets up and I am concerned about him wandering off in that condition. He goes into a shed (which then seems to be the rabbit farm as it was in Florida) and jumps high up onto the narrow ledge on the top of a window. Over time, I get him to come down by calling to him and then pet him for awhile and he starts purring.

A little later I am with my wife and an unknown girl on the porch. The girl is talking about some strange things that scientists are supposedly doing, including sterilization of animals (such as predators) that eat only meat. There are a few different militant groups involved in civil disturbances and such and the world seems more unsafe than ever - and the public more uneducated than ever before regardless of all the online courses (many freely available or at least in demo stages) in everything from biology to civics and economics. Not caring if I am believed or not, I start talking about how the cat “became a cat” when it had not been a full, living cat (almost like describing mitosis in extensive detail - prophase, metaphase, anaphase, and telophase - which almost seems to be something relating to how the world is changing as well). The girl looks at me oddly but does not comment. From that point, everything starts to change, and I am an “agent” of some kind, wearing an extremely expensive suit and carrying a gun.

The first mission is to secure a three-storey laboratory where there are a large number of people, male and female, of various ages (from ages twenty to about sixty), all in white lab robes, involved in a project to sterilize all cats in the world - with cats eventually becoming extinct. Cats are carnivores, and come just prior to the planned world-sterilization of wild feline carnivores, then onto dogs (as dogs are supposedly omnivores, although one credible website states that “dogs have a natural and undeniable carnivorous bias”). In real life, I have seen cats eat grass and vegetable matter, but the act usually makes them vomit (they lack the necessary enzymes to break down vegetable matter), which is supposedly beneficial. I am not sure of what the overall missions are, but I always follow orders and go where I am supposed to. In this case, I am supposed to guard one door - with a gun and with two other agents with me - so that people do not get out - and am also clearly aware that I am immune to the gas that is to be released from the non-lethal bombs. Eventually, there is an announcement over the entire intercom system that everyone involved in the sterilization of animals will, instead, be sterilized themselves. This comes as a shock to people and they start racing around in an attempt to get out of the building before the mechanisms/non-lethal bombs go off. Something goes wrong, chaos ensues, and people fall or jump out of windows from the third floor (as well as the lower windows).

There are explosions as I am just outside the building and most of the lab workers are shot when they near the circular scrimmage line about ten feet out at the shortest distance from the building. Somehow, hundreds of people are killed (including an agent or two) and only three civilians escape, each with an agent escort. The younger man with me is annoyed that he had been sterilized and I tell him about the “cure” - which simply involves extended foreplay and he then seems a bit more positive in getting away from the area - which now involves military action between two new forces coming in, neither being us (relating to some sort of strategical trick to reduce the number of “enemy agents” and military forces worldwide).

After this, there are other acts such as apparent espionage, but we are supposedly the “good guys” in every case. Sometimes I am recognized as an agent (often due to the extremely expensive and supposedly stylish suit I am wearing) but easily shoot my way out. There also seem to be double agents, but these are dealt with severely.

At one point, there is an attempt to stop a row of at least six missiles from being launched. Something goes wrong and the missiles somehow fall over but still activate. They “launch” downwards at about a twenty degree angle (at first) into the ground (but eventually somehow tip directly down into the deeper and deeper holes caused by vibrations and explosions - none of this seems all that realistic in a technical sense), causing a localized earthquake; huge plumes of dust and debris are moving straight up, evenly into the sky in a squarish form, almost like an “elevator of debris”, but also causing the field to grow higher and higher while somehow leaving the column of debris, almost as if it is like a slowly manifesting “tall building” of some kind. This goes on for several minutes as people scatter about, a few being killed, apparently. I, being one of the only ones left, am able to finally get away when the ground stops moving. The “ghost building” implied by the previous debris column is no longer there, though.

Eventually, I am on an airplane with a few more inexperienced agents (dressed in less expensive outfits and some without weapons) to help them somehow. One of them, a female, turns around in her seat and asks me if I know when “his” anniversary is. I am not sure what or who she means and just sort of randomly say “January 7th” (oldest son’s birthday) and she smiles triumphantly, saying that it is actually February seventh. She had been talking about an older man sitting a couple seats in front of her (and nearest the aisle) who seems to suffer from some sort of disorder (causing him to be mentally “slow”) as well as possibly being a prisoner rather than an agent.

Eventually, when on another (longer) airplane trip with many civilians, we land near a potentially dangerous area, although it is reported that many of the enemy had been killed. However, there still may be a double agent or two or a few members of paramilitary groups left in certain areas near the airport. There are still paramilitary groups planning to kill all wild cats (even those that are on the endangered list), followed by other meat-eating animals.

I somehow miss my perfectly-timed cue to leave the airplane in a slow “perfect” way as other agents leave in a planned one-at-a-time progression, so, in order to keep all the other agents safe in their present location, I must remain on the airplane as only civilians now board, being the only agent left on the airplane. This does not bother me all that much, as it is possible I will be the only living agent left in the region if anything goes wrong. Many of the passengers are female and of various ages.

One of them looks at me directly, asking “Who are you?” and smiles happily. She seems like an average person, quite naive, yet very good-natured and friendly. I hear a few other people asking about me in other seats on the airplane, mostly as “who is he” or “who is that”.

“He is our Protector,” says another girl (and I then wonder if I am supposed to be recognized as an agent by the general public). She says it like pro-TECH-tore (dramatically rhyming with “ore” rather than “her”). I feel a bit strange. I feel a sense of universality; that is, I feel as if my mind is “all mind”/”the only mind” for awhile. It is not a lonely feeling as a whole - as there are always other energies, yet all of them are “my” energies (at least on the airplane) as if I am “everything” and always have been “everything”. I ponder this awareness for several minutes, but I look down and notice bread crumbs on my suit and begin to brush them off. More and more bread crumbs gather on the floor of the airplane near my feet and I sort of feel a bit embarrassed by this (I do not even remember having eaten anything - perhaps it was quite some time ago, perhaps a sandwich or two from a vending machine at or near a gas/petrol station). An older lady, who is standing for a time (unlike most of the other passengers), starts talking about many people being “hamsters” with a comment about how they “stink” in some locations of the world (even certain restaurants), yet it is not in a cruel way, just sort of comedic - and almost feels as if she is sharing a recipe (yet in getting certain ingredients from restaurants - does not make sense) with some of the other people. More and more bread piles up near my feet until some “crumbs” are as big as an entire loaf of bread. This is bound to draw too much attention, but I do not say anything, and anyway, the airplane is about to take off. I am a consciousness that will remain here until I am elsewhere - “the last agent”.

“The living bread is with us,” comments another person, “We are safe for now”. I am not sure what is going to happen; I feel a growing sense of infinity. I wait for the airplane to take off (it seems to grow larger and larger and I seem to be in a seat in the first row - but the directional orientation seems to have changed from before) but I slowly wake up instead.

The scholastic “mitosis” acronym, PMAT (Prophase Metaphase Anaphase Telophase) can also stand for:

Political-Military Action Team (PMAT)

It includes things like “Coordinate military operations with the National Joint Operations and Intelligence Center (NJOIC), geographic combatant command centers, and the Department Operations Center.” and “Process diplomatic aircraft and ship clearance applications or amendments — and handle related interagency inquiries — on nights, weekends, & holidays.”

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