Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 15:13:39 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Corialis . . . some interesting info . . .
To: gspencer
RE: ". . . Planet PL6K2 (christened Corialis)"
That dream about Amelia Corialis keeps popping up in my mind, so I did a search and found some interesting info . . .
Planet PL6K2 (christened Corialis)--My first step in this neverending journey
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Posted by Jowell on March 02, 19100 at 21:33:02:
I have seemed to come across a new planet. My first step into the unknown in search of information on snapshot SS4C2 has shed light on Corialis, a planet which has been hidden in the depths of nothingness for ages. Its beauty is fathoms deep. The deep magnolian color of it seems to radiate pure energy into my body as I wander through its endless void. Its core is a deep sapphire ocean of myst, swirling and shimmering around my body, engulfing me forever in its softness. I christen it Corialis, a word I have coined. It means "fathomess beauty"
Visit often for updates on my journey.
It is also the counter-clockwise effect on water and drains in the Northern Hemisphere. There is a toy, based on it's effect. It is also a planet in the Star Trek series. It is in a system called Corialis.
She was the soldier, dispatched via a headset radio to fight the terrorists in my dream. "This is Amelia Corialis, signing off. . ."Steve MSM !:@/
Sunday, July 14, 2002
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 12:52:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Chlor-ene - Chemical Invasion???
To: gspencer
RE: "Pigeons erupt over Dodie's memorial"
Ate alone with Dodie. [at the memorial marker I erected outside Panera]
- A majestic explosion of white doves, (pigeons,) erupted over Dodies memorial site. I counted 16 in all. They sailed high and proud against a deep blue sky. Flew in concentric patterns for about 5 minutes. 16 pigeons - 32 wings. (2 cubed?) Then disappeared. What a wonderful site. It was almost surreal. The dove is the symbol for Eros, btw. Cupid. A message from Dodie, to relay to her bois! Awww - Some!
Thank you for your messages and updates. You are one of God's most awesome, creatures, you know! The other one is on his knees in the bathroom, this time, saying "I'm only 16, what do you expect?" Awwww-Some! Love you guys! So very much!
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Chlor-ene - Chemical Invasion???
To: gspencer
RE: "Pigeons erupt over Dodie's memorial"
Ate alone with Dodie. [at the memorial marker I erected outside Panera]
- A majestic explosion of white doves, (pigeons,) erupted over Dodies memorial site. I counted 16 in all. They sailed high and proud against a deep blue sky. Flew in concentric patterns for about 5 minutes. 16 pigeons - 32 wings. (2 cubed?) Then disappeared. What a wonderful site. It was almost surreal. The dove is the symbol for Eros, btw. Cupid. A message from Dodie, to relay to her bois! Awww - Some!
Thank you for your messages and updates. You are one of God's most awesome, creatures, you know! The other one is on his knees in the bathroom, this time, saying "I'm only 16, what do you expect?" Awwww-Some! Love you guys! So very much!
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 09:55:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Smoke Signals across the Sea
To: gspencer
RE: TOBY KEITH'S "My List"
My tears are sort of spilling over a little. Trying to save them for my time with Dodie. Get them all out of the way, all at once. Listening to Toby Keith's "My Li
st" - talks about takin' time out of the busy day to do those important things, that are not usually on our list of things to do, today . . .
(Chorus). . . .
"Like: Go for a walk,
Say a little prayer,
Take a deep breath of mountain air,
Put on my glove and play some catch,
It's time that I make time for that.
Wade the shore and cast a line, Pick up a long lost friend of mine,
Sit on the porch and give my girls a kiss,
Start livin', that's the next thing on my list.
Wouldn't change the course of fate, but
cuttin' the grass just had to wait,
'Cause I've got more important things like
Pushin' my kid on the backyard swing,
I won't break my back for a million bucks,
I can't take to my grave,
Why put off for tomorrow what I could get done today . . .
Like: . . . (Chorus)
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Smoke Signals across the Sea
To: gspencer
RE: TOBY KEITH'S "My List"
My tears are sort of spilling over a little. Trying to save them for my time with Dodie. Get them all out of the way, all at once. Listening to Toby Keith's "My Li
st" - talks about takin' time out of the busy day to do those important things, that are not usually on our list of things to do, today . . .
(Chorus). . . .
"Like: Go for a walk,
Say a little prayer,
Take a deep breath of mountain air,
Put on my glove and play some catch,
It's time that I make time for that.
Wade the shore and cast a line, Pick up a long lost friend of mine,
Sit on the porch and give my girls a kiss,
Start livin', that's the next thing on my list.
Wouldn't change the course of fate, but
cuttin' the grass just had to wait,
'Cause I've got more important things like
Pushin' my kid on the backyard swing,
I won't break my back for a million bucks,
I can't take to my grave,
Why put off for tomorrow what I could get done today . . .
Like: . . . (Chorus)
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 07:12:28 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Walks thru empty houses . . .To: gspencer
Good Morning, Candles in the Wind,
Burning brightly - ever a beacon - like the lighthouses, scattered along the crooked shoreline - piercing the fog - providing a shimmering map - a map to guide our clumsy ship bows by. Awww - my ship sees your light. It now can hug the shore, not too close, not too far - while it steadily moves out to sea - new adventures - another new year. Each getting better and better. Each ringing with fond memories and old songs to remind us of loves lost. Loves found. I feel proud to hold my love high. Like St. Elmo's fire, this love. It will never go out, never die.
The roses were deep red, almost burgundy on the inside, surrounded by a pale, white, outter layer. They were covered with dew. Which, I noticed, only this morning, when I checked their color to be sure. Plastic dew. But, like sparkiling teardrops, reminding me that even with sadness, there is beauty. Spectacular and deep. But, only for those who care to see it. Those who care to "stop, and smell the roses." To see the dewdrops. A care that My Spencer has helped instill in me. Thank you for calling my attention to such a lovely gift. I think a gift of guilt, but a gift is precious, for whatever reason.
The sandwich was turkey. I ate half. Left the other half for his breakfast in the am. I just wish he had been more at ease with me, while I ate. He could not WAIT to get up and go. He is not as comfortable with me, as he is with you. I felt it took away from the value of the moment. This morning, thought back, and I wondered if it was drugs. He was sweaty. His eyes were glassy. Not buggy, tho. He left, so abruptly, without his substance. Without his booze. With very little money. Left so suddenly, as if he had an appointment. But could not say with whom.
He did not come home last night. My heart was broken. I feared this night. I knew it would be tough. I was geared up for it. I did prepare. I did not freak out. I did not alter one rose, one pair of boots, one coin, one certificate of his. I made my tea, showered and shaved, checked for your light in the window, put on my mule pack, and left for work, as I always do. Forgot my tea. Forgot my tears. But, remembered my love. Remembered my vow. I do know hurt. It knows me. We have an understanding. Only let a little out at a time. No floods. No gushers. Be cool. Be strong. Be Steve.
We are all human. We all have desires. Lusts. Summer and youth. Sex and summer. I have only recently begun to get a handle on my lusts. I am 45. I will not judge, unjustly. It would be selfish. It would be cruel. To expect my charge to have a better grasp than I. He is 27. God bless him for caring. My soul leaps for joi for that. That's why the dew on the roses is so sweet to me. Bittersweet. Poetic. Special, like the one who brought them, who received.
DREAM: "Two Medallions"
I had a recurring vision, last night, just before nodding off. Got up to write it down. Saw the same vision, as I attempted to nap earlier in the afternoon. I saw my neck and upper torso. It was bigger, more defined. It was Junior's. On me. Our neck wore two medallions. One on top of the other, offset by half, so both were visible. On a single chain or ribbon. The top one was brilliant red. Set in rubies and gold. The one behind was lighter gold. They had an emblem on them. Similar to the Ferrari. It came and vanished in a split second. All that information in that instant. I suppose red is for second place. But better to place second, than not at all. Or, it could be red for passion. That, it definitely is. Was. Ouch. That hurts. Well, I said I would be placing a new star on my walk of fame. I guess I was decorated, as well! Yes! A medal of valor for this General, to help get me thru my day. A medal I share with my SPencer. YAY!
DREAM: "Evil Regime"
The rest of the night contained nightmares. One of the worst I have ever experienced. In a nutshell, I was in a school. My X-girlfriend from HS was there. There was an Evil Regime. They were dropping filters into our chimneys. Two chimneys per classroom. The filters did not contain Cyanide or gas. They contained a chemical that would cause us to burn to death. Everything would heat up. The floors the air. And we would roast alive. Slowly. Painfully. We would not know which classroom would be first. They went systematically, one by one. Starting at one end, destroying everyone in the room, then the next room. No one could escape. ALl would die. No one knew the hour, the time. Our classroom was first. We began to burn. Linda and I began to die. But we kept holding on. And holding. And holding. Everyone else was dead. We survived. We learned that they had indeed put Cyanide in the filters, along with the other Chemical. So we were almost unconscious from the fumes, but never died. I awoke, still alive.
I knew it was a miracle. I thought of you. Your prayers. Your fight. I fear, today, that something was taken from your soul, again, in the night, in order to help me survive. I woke up and saw Junior's toothbrush was still dry, when I went into the bathroom. I was still feeling I had been miraculously saved, and felt a strength, as I grasped my heart, before I entered into the living room. Knowing the emptiness that awaited, there. I felt a strength from that dream. It carried me thru my morning routine. WIll carry me thru the day. I shall save my tears for a private moment, today. When Dodie and I see each other, over lunch. I suspect she will also send me a sign. A gift. One which I shall pass on to you, today. For I suspect a piece of you was lost, last night. And, for that I will rush to try and restore, with undue haste.
From: Mac Stryper
Subject: Re: Walks thru empty houses . . .To: gspencer
Good Morning, Candles in the Wind,
Burning brightly - ever a beacon - like the lighthouses, scattered along the crooked shoreline - piercing the fog - providing a shimmering map - a map to guide our clumsy ship bows by. Awww - my ship sees your light. It now can hug the shore, not too close, not too far - while it steadily moves out to sea - new adventures - another new year. Each getting better and better. Each ringing with fond memories and old songs to remind us of loves lost. Loves found. I feel proud to hold my love high. Like St. Elmo's fire, this love. It will never go out, never die.
The roses were deep red, almost burgundy on the inside, surrounded by a pale, white, outter layer. They were covered with dew. Which, I noticed, only this morning, when I checked their color to be sure. Plastic dew. But, like sparkiling teardrops, reminding me that even with sadness, there is beauty. Spectacular and deep. But, only for those who care to see it. Those who care to "stop, and smell the roses." To see the dewdrops. A care that My Spencer has helped instill in me. Thank you for calling my attention to such a lovely gift. I think a gift of guilt, but a gift is precious, for whatever reason.
The sandwich was turkey. I ate half. Left the other half for his breakfast in the am. I just wish he had been more at ease with me, while I ate. He could not WAIT to get up and go. He is not as comfortable with me, as he is with you. I felt it took away from the value of the moment. This morning, thought back, and I wondered if it was drugs. He was sweaty. His eyes were glassy. Not buggy, tho. He left, so abruptly, without his substance. Without his booze. With very little money. Left so suddenly, as if he had an appointment. But could not say with whom.
He did not come home last night. My heart was broken. I feared this night. I knew it would be tough. I was geared up for it. I did prepare. I did not freak out. I did not alter one rose, one pair of boots, one coin, one certificate of his. I made my tea, showered and shaved, checked for your light in the window, put on my mule pack, and left for work, as I always do. Forgot my tea. Forgot my tears. But, remembered my love. Remembered my vow. I do know hurt. It knows me. We have an understanding. Only let a little out at a time. No floods. No gushers. Be cool. Be strong. Be Steve.
We are all human. We all have desires. Lusts. Summer and youth. Sex and summer. I have only recently begun to get a handle on my lusts. I am 45. I will not judge, unjustly. It would be selfish. It would be cruel. To expect my charge to have a better grasp than I. He is 27. God bless him for caring. My soul leaps for joi for that. That's why the dew on the roses is so sweet to me. Bittersweet. Poetic. Special, like the one who brought them, who received.
DREAM: "Two Medallions"
I had a recurring vision, last night, just before nodding off. Got up to write it down. Saw the same vision, as I attempted to nap earlier in the afternoon. I saw my neck and upper torso. It was bigger, more defined. It was Junior's. On me. Our neck wore two medallions. One on top of the other, offset by half, so both were visible. On a single chain or ribbon. The top one was brilliant red. Set in rubies and gold. The one behind was lighter gold. They had an emblem on them. Similar to the Ferrari. It came and vanished in a split second. All that information in that instant. I suppose red is for second place. But better to place second, than not at all. Or, it could be red for passion. That, it definitely is. Was. Ouch. That hurts. Well, I said I would be placing a new star on my walk of fame. I guess I was decorated, as well! Yes! A medal of valor for this General, to help get me thru my day. A medal I share with my SPencer. YAY!
DREAM: "Evil Regime"
The rest of the night contained nightmares. One of the worst I have ever experienced. In a nutshell, I was in a school. My X-girlfriend from HS was there. There was an Evil Regime. They were dropping filters into our chimneys. Two chimneys per classroom. The filters did not contain Cyanide or gas. They contained a chemical that would cause us to burn to death. Everything would heat up. The floors the air. And we would roast alive. Slowly. Painfully. We would not know which classroom would be first. They went systematically, one by one. Starting at one end, destroying everyone in the room, then the next room. No one could escape. ALl would die. No one knew the hour, the time. Our classroom was first. We began to burn. Linda and I began to die. But we kept holding on. And holding. And holding. Everyone else was dead. We survived. We learned that they had indeed put Cyanide in the filters, along with the other Chemical. So we were almost unconscious from the fumes, but never died. I awoke, still alive.
I knew it was a miracle. I thought of you. Your prayers. Your fight. I fear, today, that something was taken from your soul, again, in the night, in order to help me survive. I woke up and saw Junior's toothbrush was still dry, when I went into the bathroom. I was still feeling I had been miraculously saved, and felt a strength, as I grasped my heart, before I entered into the living room. Knowing the emptiness that awaited, there. I felt a strength from that dream. It carried me thru my morning routine. WIll carry me thru the day. I shall save my tears for a private moment, today. When Dodie and I see each other, over lunch. I suspect she will also send me a sign. A gift. One which I shall pass on to you, today. For I suspect a piece of you was lost, last night. And, for that I will rush to try and restore, with undue haste.
From: "gspencer"
To: "Mac Stryper"
Subject: In to the night . . .
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 00:11:23 -0500
EMAIL: INRE: Constanzas prophecy . . .
. . . with continuing hope, love and prayer; for all of us, all three of us, all four of us, it doesn't matter how many more of us. I know my love in infinite. I never have a doubt of that, I know its growth, I know it has not a boundary through creation eternal. My love is the ever expanding universe, not a spreading thin universe but a growing one where creation continues at the core for it is there God expects our mansions to be.
I told you that at night I give my love to all those I ever loved, past and present and future. I give my love to God for loving me, for letting me love for letting me be loved. You are among those I name, Junior is among those I name. But it is still true. I do not expect the great fruition of my being to be as I dreamed. I took, I took, I took, I took and took again but did not give as I should.
Constance is right, she said it correctly; "once Romeo and Juliet are together it is the end for this plane, for this ever so flawed but ever so beautiful copy of Eden. They will only be together when once again they walk the paths of Eden with the first Father and with the first Friend. When all of his children, their children join them."
Steve, I cannot tell how much I want Joe's love to be the answer to the call of your heart; how I want for your love to be the answer to the call of his heart. I do, I cannot tell you how so. I love you both so much. As you do, I sit and I weep for the hurt that you both have received. I do not weep for the hurt that I have received for in truth all that has ever been given to me has been beautiful, wonderful; they are roses of gold with thorns of rusted iron.
For tasting of the tree I, with my eternal partner, am damned here. I wish I could breathe right now, it would be a bit less painful but my mortal chest with an immortal heart within is strained beyond what I expected; it is constrained.
As Amset did before me, I am here at the temple gate. I am ready to battle, willing to battle, the courage and might is here. I pray I have learned the wiles necessary to succeed all in a battle to my death once again in the name of love.
Plastic roses and a subway sandwich. Are the roses red? It is important to me to know this. Plastic roses; blooms whose colors are long in fading, a surface beauty lasting longer than so I may survive. I do not wish to leave you here alone and I do not want his child to be destroyed. I stand at my window my arms to the world, I send my love across.
I send it even now, I will risk the real ones; creations of those who were made in the image of the Creator but not the creator Himself. Creations lacking the essence, the attar of the real but on a level that is significant to rival that of God's. A subway sandwich, was it turkey or chicken? It is something more I need to know. A subway sandwich, nourishment for the body, the temple of the soul. It is not making dinner but it is a struggled compromise to fulfill a promise; just as you saw. It is a step, it is a movement that is not without care.
I had keys made this day. I gave Junior a key to my apartment today. He was impatient to learn the lower door code. I should have written it for him. I had another key made for you. I told him, my house is his house just as my heart is his heart. The same goes for you; my house is your house, my heart is your heart. I will see you tomorrow and that is good.
The witching hour approaches, within minutes it is here. Another thread of love I send across this land, a life line bringing you back. It is sent. . .
To: "Mac Stryper"
Subject: In to the night . . .
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 2002 00:11:23 -0500
EMAIL: INRE: Constanzas prophecy . . .
. . . with continuing hope, love and prayer; for all of us, all three of us, all four of us, it doesn't matter how many more of us. I know my love in infinite. I never have a doubt of that, I know its growth, I know it has not a boundary through creation eternal. My love is the ever expanding universe, not a spreading thin universe but a growing one where creation continues at the core for it is there God expects our mansions to be.
I told you that at night I give my love to all those I ever loved, past and present and future. I give my love to God for loving me, for letting me love for letting me be loved. You are among those I name, Junior is among those I name. But it is still true. I do not expect the great fruition of my being to be as I dreamed. I took, I took, I took, I took and took again but did not give as I should.
Constance is right, she said it correctly; "once Romeo and Juliet are together it is the end for this plane, for this ever so flawed but ever so beautiful copy of Eden. They will only be together when once again they walk the paths of Eden with the first Father and with the first Friend. When all of his children, their children join them."
Steve, I cannot tell how much I want Joe's love to be the answer to the call of your heart; how I want for your love to be the answer to the call of his heart. I do, I cannot tell you how so. I love you both so much. As you do, I sit and I weep for the hurt that you both have received. I do not weep for the hurt that I have received for in truth all that has ever been given to me has been beautiful, wonderful; they are roses of gold with thorns of rusted iron.
For tasting of the tree I, with my eternal partner, am damned here. I wish I could breathe right now, it would be a bit less painful but my mortal chest with an immortal heart within is strained beyond what I expected; it is constrained.
As Amset did before me, I am here at the temple gate. I am ready to battle, willing to battle, the courage and might is here. I pray I have learned the wiles necessary to succeed all in a battle to my death once again in the name of love.
Plastic roses and a subway sandwich. Are the roses red? It is important to me to know this. Plastic roses; blooms whose colors are long in fading, a surface beauty lasting longer than so I may survive. I do not wish to leave you here alone and I do not want his child to be destroyed. I stand at my window my arms to the world, I send my love across.
I send it even now, I will risk the real ones; creations of those who were made in the image of the Creator but not the creator Himself. Creations lacking the essence, the attar of the real but on a level that is significant to rival that of God's. A subway sandwich, was it turkey or chicken? It is something more I need to know. A subway sandwich, nourishment for the body, the temple of the soul. It is not making dinner but it is a struggled compromise to fulfill a promise; just as you saw. It is a step, it is a movement that is not without care.
I had keys made this day. I gave Junior a key to my apartment today. He was impatient to learn the lower door code. I should have written it for him. I had another key made for you. I told him, my house is his house just as my heart is his heart. The same goes for you; my house is your house, my heart is your heart. I will see you tomorrow and that is good.
The witching hour approaches, within minutes it is here. Another thread of love I send across this land, a life line bringing you back. It is sent. . .
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