A short visit into the Shadow Valley


It’s during the day light I go down that stairs which start at the ground level of the street. A right descent, maybe 9 foot down, and then the first level, a hall where at the right is found a counter. At the right of the counter is a cylindrical box, maybe of brass with a net surface like handwork straw, but I’m not sure of these details. Within the box there are many 6 foot rods iron made. Weapon-like I thought. One of the sticks ends with a fork, is trident-like. I could take that one to defend myself… you know, just in case, after all is a frightening place.

However it was too late for that because then I notice an administrator into the counter, he is a six or seven foot Plutonian figure. He does not look nice or with good mood. Holding the fork he uses it to hit my naked legs pushing me to the left of the counter where a spiraled stairway goes even more down. By the way I am not using clothes or shoes, unless maybe some shorts, nearly nude.

We go down the spiral, three or more turns maybe. Meanwhile I try to gain his sympathy with some small talk but he does not pay much attention to it. Then I stop when I see down a big saloon. Right in front some young cows roam the barren and constrict room. I know there are others but I stare only that light brown one right in front of my eyes. Gosh, I remember these calves; I used to see them when I was a kid. The place now feels even scarier than before.
Then I see at my left giant scorpions, nine foot long I think. One is red but the one who really calls my attention is deep bright blue. Into its back is inscribed a number, it reads thirty-three. A great fear takes my being. I need to leave this place before I get imprisoned there along the calves.

Even that holding little chance of success, anyway fast I manage to go back up the spiral stairway. No one hinders me, but I am ready to fight with my clean hands to the death if necessary. I reach again the entrance hall. Pluto waits me there.
This time he addresses me in a polite manner. I ask him, “Why are you now gentle while before you were so rude?” He says, “Because you arrived late.” It’s true. I was supposed to arrive at the beginning of the morning but only at noon I was there. However obviously such should not imply punishment anyway. “What do you want?” I ask.

“That you write about this,” he says. “See, there is something to you.” I can care less to any payments from that situation but right before I can tell him something he brings me a Dominos’ cardboard. Opening the cover, I notice inside it a mixture of jewels with a cheese covert. It’s a pizza after all. Not willing to accept that anyway still, moved by curiosity, I check into the jewels, which seem like a necklace of big pearls. White they are, maybe also some black ones, not sure. There are other jewels in there but all is a mess with the cheesy mass. What inappropriate bribe is this anyway, I think. I am not even a bit hungry. Yet though I hadn’t took any piece of that food, at the same time I am chewing a little piece of that cake mass. It’s tasteless, no flavor.


The bellow illustration (in public domain) to this dream may turn it more accessible and comprehensive.

Yet considering that sadly I have failed to post images with their size properly sighted, —they’ve appeared only like thumb-images— I don’t know whether this one will be displayed correct or not. If not, would be helpful if someone fixed it to a more visible dimension (for example, 849x601 pixels or more).

Isle of the Dead - 1880 A Bocklin.jpg

As I see it, I picked this impressive painting as a potent clue —truly many ones— associated with this dream. This is the 1880 painting, titled Die Toteninsel (Isle of the Dead), made by Arnold Bocklin. Also the 1883 and 1886 versions add noteworthy details —yet little less inspired than this one, though you can think into other way ;-). Besides, to complete this night, into a good frame, there is a hidden couple of nights —a set that stands out. I know this is a long shot, yet for me this recalls as stated by the C’s,
Session, 29th July 2006:
Ok […] Leo 3 nights! […] We said “next stop.”

Session, December 28, 1996:
Q: (V) How come I can’t get a straight answer?
A: Seek and find, tis fun!

Anyway, there are fabulous myths connected to all this. With attention and contemplation I can also recall and so clarify, some statements generously left by the C’s —truly a fun Search in which one may also perceive it fruitful. Anyway, “One image mirrors thousand words.”


What a barren terrain was that. I don’t like it. Making it naked, that ground had been turned upside down —probably by a caterpillar vehicle—. Now it laid going from here to there without any vegetation at the sight.

A tube comes from that soil pumping water to a squared box of 3 foot side. In turn, that little reservoir, via tubes, channels the water to my precarious pumping arrangement. There is plenty water in that tank, so much that water spills out of it and runs by improvised ditches spread along the soil. Yet, in spite of the water, no plants have yet sprouted in that field. Maybe some day later.

For a moment I am satisfied with all that water going into my arrangement. However when I near the old water-bomb, I notice that it isn’t working as expected. Indeed it seems broken. I think is possible fix it, probably I can do it but seems problematic —this is a recurrent dream, I remember I had an earlier dream where I also tried to fix it…

When that guy parked and left under our care his motorcycle, he trustily gave us its key. We are a couple now, and we didn’t have the best intentions. In fact we wanted to steal something of him or any other. The key was well attached to many strings which made difficult to remove it from the wires. When he left the place for some moments, I —or better saying, my alter ego— machinated: "now you replace the (original) key for the yellow key just for a few moments. This will be enough to rob the (motor) system".

Thus was done, I think —the dream skips this part—. Then I was trying to return the (original) key as it was before inserted into those entangled strings. It was difficult. There was a lot of strings together unraveled each to other. The part where the key should be attached formed like a cone within which the key was fastened before.

Then arrives a well-dressed man, it seems he wears a suit. He asks me: "Do you know the seal one? Do you know the corridor one?"


To this same thread I am adding these recent dreams because I think they offer the same topic, so they are directly linked.

I think there is no better person to interpret a significant dream than yourself. However considering the usual subjectivity of any dream, this may be a complex task. Fortunately usually I have been able of do it in spite of some dreams that take years until I can at last solve them, if so.

So, for example, here in the bottom are some quoted clues. Furthermore, the yellow key business is linked to the ‘Sons of Belial’ of Atlantis, but that is a long story that I’ll leave to another occasion. Concerning the entwinement of strings, the next quote may offer some light:

Jane Roberts, The Seth Material:

Suppose a network of wires, a maze of cables that intertwine and are built so interminably that seeing through them would seem to have neither beginning nor end. Your plane could resemble a small space between four wires extremely tangled; and my plane could resemble a small space on neighboring wires, on the other side. Not only we are on different sides of the same wires but, at the same time, we are up or down, depending on your point of view. And if you think of wires as forming cubes […], then the cubes could also fit into each other without disturbing the inhabitants of any cube not a bit. And these cubes are found inside other cubes and I'm just talking now of the small part of space formed by your plane and mine.

Think again in terms of your plane, unlimited by the tangled set of wires and my plane, on the other side. Those, as I said, have unlimited connection and depth; however only one side is transparent. You can't see through them; but the two planes are constantly moving through each other. I hope you see what I have done here: I have started the idea of movement, because true transparency is not ability to see through, but to move through.

I should clarify that I consider some dreams, like these ones, connect all of us, which, by the way, also can be connected to some other threads (not mine), as this one for instance. Well, then is also a matter of faith. See?

Gitta Mallasz, Talking with angels:

There are 2 bridges: the great and the small. The small bridge is still weak.
Without a way, the bread cannot come: it is blocked.
Strengthen faith in yourself by uniting the two bridges, which, in truth, are One.

Session, October 7, 1994:

Q: (L) What was the situation... what happened... what was the state of mankind?
A: Loss of faith caused knowledge and physical restrictions by outside forces.

Session, October, 22 1994:

Q: (L) So acquiring knowledge includes adding substance to one’s being?
A: Indeed. It includes adding everything to one’s being that is desirable. And also, when you keep invoking the light, as you do, truly understand that the light is knowledge. That is the knowledge which is at the core of all existence. And being at the core of all existence it provides protection from every form of negativity in existence. Light is everything and everything is knowledge and knowledge is everything. You are doing extremely well in acquiring of knowledge. Now all you need is the faith and realization that acquiring of knowledge is all you need.


Below is the Aeterne rerum conditor,” which is a short text by 4th century Ambrosius, a bishop who was born in Gaul. It was interesting to me observing it from the content to the author. The text, written in Latin and attributed to Ambrose, is part of supposed liturgical hymns. Moreover we find also looking at 2 Peter 1:19,21 & 2 Peter 2:4,15,16,17 specially Vulgata source.

As I could not find an English version of it, at first I tried the popular internet’s tools but as usual became clear that not only the programs’ rendition was incorrect, but also omitted noteworthy parts of the original text. Deficient algorithms?!! Anyway, I proceeded to do the translation by myself, which was done. Now, though it be a bumpy conversion, still I firmly believe that it is much better and different than that made by web programs that not render to Caesar the things that are Caesar‘s.Mark 12:17?;-D

I was not really planning to post this work, but then straight away here it is. In specific the hymn is part of a research I was doing on the “light that comes from the dark deep” as the C’s mentioned July 19, 1997 session: “What causes the rooster to crow?... This not just light, but the emergence of light from the depths of the darkness.” So, of course I contemplate the hymn as linked to the topic of this thread.

(English text leads and afterwards the original Latin)
Aeterne rerum conditor (Ruler of the eternal causes)

Morning Hymn

Eternal promoter of the reality
of day and night by which the king
produces as well times and seasons,
to relieve emptiness;

Preacher of the day, he runs sounds,
Deep night watchful,
At the night light wanderers,
Stray night by night.

This awakes Lucifer
[who] solves the pole mist, [where]
Those men chant error [in a]
way that plants a desert.

The sailor is gathering strength
The foaming seas,
this sacrum stone,
crows the cock.

It lifts therefore power!
The cock arouses,
and the sleepy ones protest
[while] cock denies argue.

When the cock crows, hope returns,
Pain gives in to a pour of vigor.
The sword’s robber sheathes it,
It falls turning back.

Jesus, regards the sinking;
And seeing us, rebukes,
If you gaze at the dropping fall,
Sorrowful guilt is solved.

You light glistens the senses,
Mind and sleep examine,
our voice will soon resound
and burning chant you.


[Latin original]

Hymnus Matutinus

Aeterne rerum conditor,
Noctem diemque qui regis,
Et temporum das tempora,
Ut alleves fastidium;

Praeco diei iam sonat,
Noctis profundae pervigil,
Nocturna lux viantibus,
A nocte noctem segregans.

Hoc excitatus lucifer
Solvit polum caligine,
Hoc omnis errorum chorus
Viam nocendi deserit.

Hoc nauta vires colligit
Pontique mitescunt freta,
Hoc ipsa petra ecclesiae
Canente culpam diluit.

Surgamus ergo strenue!
Gallus iacentes excitat,
Et somnolentos increpat,
Gallus negantes arguit.

Gallo canente spes redit,
Aegris salus refunditur,
Mucro latronis conditur,
Lapsis fides revertitur.

Iesu, labentes respice,
Et nos videndo corrige,
Si respicis, lapsus cadunt,
Fletuque culpa solvitur.

Tu lux refulge sensibus,
Mentisque somnum discute,
Te nostra vox primum sonet
Et ore psallamus tibi.

At last, but truly not least, I should note that gallus —which is a word in singular form— also means “Celt”, in particular the Gauls who lived about west of Rhine. And there is still more but probably would more careful into a thread set apart for.


Next in italic is one from a night of many dreams that I've titled,

A Show to Watch :-)

We are in some office of a city, maybe. A college invites me to watch a show in that same day, and I accept. We, without delay, go outside and walk crossing the streets until we reach a public piazza over an extremity of a viaduct where we see people promenading and food shops. He offers me to eat some food. The idea entices me, and I say that would be interesting. However, still I ask, “I’m not really hungry, would not best to watch first the show and later could we eat? The show is at 4:00 pm, what time is now?” He answers, 10 to 4pm. “Well, —I say— then is practically unworkable for us to make there. Look, —I point to a spot 2 km (i.e. 1.243 mile) ahead in the southeast horizon— the place is over there far away.”

Between the show’s place and us is a valley like a maze of streets, houses, trees and what else. My companion heads to that direction but I say to him, “This trail is short but too demanding. I know another one. It’s a longer way than going straight but it is easier than this and so we can gain considerable time and energy. While going to the end of that road we will find a bridge that crosses the vale. Yet, I don’t think we anyway will make fast enough to watch the beginning of the show. Maybe if we run we can save some time though.” We run.

Like marathons we go down by the street that follows to the left. Quick we reach the bridge that then turns back to the right. It goes down anyway. I notice that he is riding a bicycle, while I am only on the trust of my feet. Nevertheless, I arrive to the lower other side first than him. Soon he arrives too but with such a velocity, kind of out of control, that forces him a tangent to the right where there is a garden of the down dale. That is a garden that I had already visited at an earlier time. If he falls in that garden, definitely he will lose the spectacle. I think he will fall there.

He manages to stop. Now we walk up a steep street. But I’m so tired because of the running. My legs weigh like they were made of rocks as much I can barely lift them or even to give one single step. I say to him, “sorry I cannot go faster, I’m exhausted.” Struggling with that effort, yet I still drag myself forward. So slow. A few inches at my left borders a long fenced terrain wherein many dogs bark. One dog manages to nibble my hand but I don’t feel any kind of hard feeling at the dogs. The fence vanishes. Well this is difficult, I think. I look to them and then using my hand I seize and close the snout of the biter dog to refrain him for a minute, while I try to figure a way out. That stops the attack but he remains agitated, and still I have the others to deal. What else? I will stay here, holding them?

The moment changes. We resume the tracking and then we find a group of joyful women also going up the street. They are African-like and wear red gowns with some impressionist and colorful flowering stamps. My colleague tells me, “these women are good-looking, no?” I feel them weird, but they are somewhat likeable. I avoid expressing to them my perceptions as to not chance them sad or offended. I point to a lady like them, but much older, there apart into the “dogs’ field,” and say to them that that one seems a “nice lady.” The old woman wears their same colors but her gown shines as if it was plastic-like. So much delays, and we don’t even know what exact direction to go. At this point I have no expectation to succeed the journey.

All of a sudden, we all, including the women, are in a narrow corridor of an edifice. I sense that is not the 1st floor. At the end of the corridor, like closing it, is a dull white, flat door. Little above the center of the door, it exhibits old brass digits that compose the number 51. I don’t remember seeing any other door in the corridor. That “51 door” has a wasted white painting. Indeed is a quite unpretentious entry, which most people probably would have no interested into crossing it. But I knew that that was the place that we are intending to visit.

A concern comes to my mind. Those peculiar women with us seem inappropriate to enter by that door. How I will tell them this? I have to. I turn back to say something to them but they are gone, disappeared. Well, moving on, I knock at the closed door. We wait long. Nobody answers. No sounds are heard. I fear that it may not open. So much effort and we fail. Hesitant, because I don’t feel right to insist, still I try another knocking. Again the silence fills the waiting while the door remains closed at our sight.

I don’t remember if I tried a 3rd time but then the door opens. We enter into a small anteroom. Who I could expect to be there, there she was. It was Sweets, an Egyptian woman —who I met years ago under “awake state.” We smile to each other. Will she remember me after so long?

She says,“Hi Outsky!” And I answer, “Wow, Sweets you are younger than when I saw you last time!” Sweets is not only youthful, but also she has another physical completion. She is now an Asiatic type, maybe Japanese, but this has no importance in the dream at all. Smiling, I joke, “What is the deal for this number 51? Is this from some advertisement?” She smiles, “Well, do you smoke?” I say, “No,” and we laugh. :lol:

“Let me see you,” says Sweets while she starts to inspect my auric field — such ability which in awake life, she really claimed to have. With that, I became ashamed. It was like exposing the best but also the worst of myself. Exposing my failures, my acquired vicious, and how much I left out those goals that I should have already accomplished. Defensively I say to her, “No need, I know I look tired, and with faint gleam.” She responds, “No. You look magical.” To what I reply making fun of her flattery, “Ah well, this I have always been.” She says, “Come.”

Sweets opens a back-door and we enter a darkened room. That is a large space with about 19 foot width and an uncertain deepness, maybe like 4 times more. In the whole perimeter of the room, many peoples are seating nigh to the walls. They are at little distance from each other, close indeed. A feeble light, but somewhat comfortable, goes through the blackness. It is like a candle illumination. Maybe each person had one kindled candle, I’m not sure now.

Apparently once we were in the interior behind the door 51, the presence of the supposed main interested, who was my fellow companion, had been altogether ignored. Sweets completely unnoticed him as if he had no existence. Then, I try to repair that while Sweets is already taking her position, as well as, she expects me doing the same. I call her and tell, “Sorry, there is this my colleague who would like to see the presentation.” Sweets pauses for a moment, turns her eyes as if her patience is being tested and tones, “Ah, how we are going to finish thus?”
to be continued… ;-)

Here ends the night dream.

And, as to the garden mentioned in this post, I visited it into another dream months ago —not posted, but logged into my notes. Moreover, in that night of this dream I was reading the Latin epic poetry Thebaid circa AD 90. Bellow I pinpoint a little quote of it that seems to me part of the convergence for this subconscious message.​
Thebaid, AD 90

The banners quake, the trumpets are silent, and the Martian horns are struck dumb; thrice from the regions of gloom thundered their impatient monarch and shook the depths of earth, and even the deities of battle fled; renowned Virtue was nowhere seen, Bellona put out her torches, Mars drove afar his affrighted chariot, and the Maid shrank away with her fierce Gorgon-head, and into their places came the Stygian sisters.

The wretched common folk stand high upon the house-tops, no place but is wet with tears, no tower but sounds with lamentations. Here old men complain that they have lived so long, there mothers stand with bosoms bare, and forbid their little ones to view the fray. The king of Tartarus himself orders the gates to be set open, and the Ogygian ghosts to attend their kindred's monstrous deeds.​


July 10, 1999 session

Be careful of the quote marks, they bring you to the crossroads. As in: “you take the high road, I’ll take the low road, and I’ll be in Scotland before ye.”
The above quote —right mentioned by C’s— refers to the poem ‘The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond’. Also it is mentioned in the “Alton Towers” thread.

”The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond,” is a traditional Scottish song. In Scots, bonnie may mean ‘fairly large,’ ‘pleasant,’ or ‘pretty’ —the latter usually applied to a female. The composer is unknown and interpretations are diverse. For example is claimed that the song refers to psychopomp-fairies that guide souls of dead back to their home in particular via the “low road”. In that case there is then some likeness to the Gwyn ap Nudd’s retinue —from Welsh folklore— who hunts souls at night. In Arthurian tales, Gwyn is the ruler of the Otherworld. In England this hunt is attributed to characters like the god Woden and his troop.

Next is seen the poem rewritten —as most faithful as I could— with more common English words, thus replacing the local/Celtic expressions. Afterwards is appended the original lyrics, which of course has more grace.
The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond
By farther off pleasant banks and by farther off pleasant steep slopes,
Where the sun shines bright on Lake of Elms,
Where me and my true love were ever accustomed to the rimmed enclosure,
On the pleasant, pleasant banks of the Lake of Elms.

O you'll take the high road, and I'll take the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland before you,

But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the pleasant, pleasant banks of the Lake of Elms.

It was there that we parted, in farther off shadow valley,
On the steep, steep side of the Beacon Mountain,
Where in soft purple hue, the highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.

The little birdies sing and the wildflowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping.
But the broken heart it perceives not second spring again,
Though the sad waves may cease from their grieving.

O you’ll take the high road and I’ll take the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.

But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the pleasant, pleasant banks of the Lake of Elms.
The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond (original)

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond,
Where me and my true love were ever wont to gae,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,

But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

'Twas there that we parted, in yon shady glen,
On the steep, steep side o' Ben Lomond,
Where in soft purple hue, the highland hills we view,
And the moon coming out in the gloaming.

The wee birdies sing and the wildflowers spring,
And in sunshine the waters are sleeping.
But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again,
Though the waeful may cease frae their grieving.

O ye’ll tak’ the high road and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye.

But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.​
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The following dream is not, well, focused into the ‘Shadow Valley’ though there is a connection to be seen. Moreover, it was only in the end of the afternoon, and still hesitant, that I changed my mind and resolved to write it down, and again to my own surprise even posting it. In spite of my reluctance, I welcome the dream and its symbols. So, why the hesitancy? Well, those with the patience to read it, will see. I thought of 3 titles to the dream, but I suppose that two are enough for now. Next my recent dream.
Through the mirror
Lost in Space

After some erratic car ride, we arrive at last in some kind of a touristic village or little town. The place is completely unknown to me, but there are crowds happily wandering by the village. My friends, 2 or 3 not sure, including one dear and beloved one, decide to take a short walk nearby. I wait for their return there, where we are temporarily staying, a little and pleasant lodge.

As times goes, I suspect I need to meet and join them wherever they are. Easy task, I think then. Meanwhile, for some unknown reason, I leave my documents, phone and money with another friend, Marcel, who is resting on an armchair in the lodge while he unperturbedly :cool2: observes the people strolling by the village.

I take the direction where last I saw them walking to. I figure that 2 or 3 squares ahead I will meet them. The place of my goal is visualized in my mind with all the references points where they must be. However as I walk, no familiar references are sighted. I walk just like a 100 steps and everywhere is strange. :huh:

More I walk, more strange becomes all around. Of a sudden I am inside of a big circular edifice. It seems an underground space of green color. I don’t see any exit from that place that is some kind of laundry store. More or less I remember that place from another dream. I don’t want to be there. And now?

I closer inspect the place and then I see at my right a door painted with a golden color and a sign where reads “exit.” I don’t like it. But what a hell :-), at least I can leave this place. I ask someone if that door really takes to outside of the building, and he claims that yes, it does. And then I cross by it.

Behind the door goes up a stair. There in her top I have a vista from a city that surrounds the place. I need a new strategy, I think. “I know! I’ll return and retake my cell left with Marcel.” Well, I try that but again happens to be very difficult since there are not familiar places to indicate the way of return. What now? How do I leave this labyrinth?

Then I have an idea. I will ask for a touristic pamphlet, that is to say a map, in any commercial store and then localize my lost lodge in it. Thus, at least, I can return to it. Not sure, maybe in some restaurant, I ask for the paper-guide. The man over there says they don’t have one but they can show me a place where I can get one.

We walk along one little cozy street and knock a door not far from the restaurant. We enter the place. The ceiling, walls and floor has some furry and smooth carpet of a pink tone color. A strong smell of cats fills the air. I mean, not like a bad smell, just I recognize that characteristic odor. A lady in her middle age comes to us. She has the body of a person, but her head is literally that of an orange Persian cat, which in the dream seems normal.

“Yes,” the cat-woman says, “I have one guide.” Then she walks until the right of that rose-color room where then she goes up by a spiral stairs that also has every step covered by the pink carpet. I imagine that I must follow her and so I go climbing up the stair, which actually is more like a cylindrical ladder.

She swiftly disappears from my sight while climbing, but I keep arising by the ladder too. Soon the ascension becomes long and very exhausting and I start to wonder that I may have lost the point where she got. I mean, perhaps I have skipped her entry. Anyway, my energy is barely enough now to continue upwards.

The guys, who had steered me to that house, call me from downstairs. They tell me that she left the guide in the ladder a few stores below from I am. I go down to recover the map but when I reach that point, it is not there. There is only an inscription with two numbers, 285 and 83.​
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