Never whine to the universe about not having anything to write about. Never even think that. In my hypnagogic state this morning, I saw tonnes of words flowing down my bedroom wall, continuously for a long time. They started being of legible words, then to just chunks of unrecognisable words formed by letters of the English Alphabet, and then into illegible words of unrecognisable glyphs. It was like watching the never-ending closing credits at the end of the movie, except that the whole screen was filled up, without room for a pause.
The peculiarity of yesterday continued today. The angels from his place somehow hung out at my place last night. It was so strange, but definitely welcomed. I recognise the incessant chatter, and the vibration of it, and they were more excited this time. I lead a fairytale life sometimes, and I really do feel out of place at times too, like how I have no idea what they were talking about, yet why would they want me to notice their presence if they do not want me to know their topic(s) of discussion. Utterly boggles me.
All the time I was cocooning in that room, I could hear the angels at his place carrying out their panel of discussion clearly in my left ear. Curious as I am, I would always ask “hey, what’s up. Tell me, what are you guys talking about?” I would hear a little pause, and then the chatter continued, not sure if it was further discussion or whether they would let me in on their secrets. Hmpf. Never got anything out of them.
And the cheek of it! They hung out at my place last night! (My exclamation expressed in a tongue-in-cheek manner, ❤ they are really very sweet beings.) I tried again to probe, “hey, what’s up. What are you guys doing here?” Still to no avail. Maybe Angelish is the next language I need to pick up. They were definitely in a cheery mood, as though there was some secret celebration going on. Tsk, it’s like how someone lets you in on a half-told secret. Ah well, whatever.
I was more surprised how there can be a “his angels” or “my angels” kind of differentiation. I guess I am more familiar with mine, because their vibrations are already sort of part of me, so I hear them not as an external chatter, but an internal change of frequencies. I knew them to be “his” just because they were the same ones at “his place”. This is oh-so-curious. The knowingness that it is “his” and not anyone else’s is very strange too. I always thought we all share the same angels. HMmmmMmmmmMMmmmmmm.