Colorful volition amusingthe imagination

Themoralofthisseriesofstoriesisintheconceptofourdaughter,whichwithaheadstartadozenyearspriorherbirth,andeversincethat momentin1994,haswakeninmeadeterminationtohealingher.InherIfoundmymentorinthemysteriesoftheabstract.Herspirit's strengthbeforebirthlivesonthroughherordealatninemonthsapartdoubleresuscitation.Showsthatquasiatthesourceishersoul, pullingthestringsfromtheinfiniteblues,claimingthespirit,andthespiritwithclaimsonthebodyexpressedas;"Anotherwayof thinking."

That first moment at birth most of us care to remember. The midwife ordered me in a matron's tone of voice, saying; Sit down. She didn't give me an option to think over my next move. This was her domain, and sure I obeyed. Low in the broad grandfather chair, she handed over the red flimsy towel footie. the wrap hanging in the air, discerning my baby daughter's little head, when the midwife in a voice with a sense of awaiting duty, said; I have to attend to the mother. My stared squeeze this fragile little creature to pulp. The midwife's voice called me to jump out my hesitation, and I went for the grab. No no sooner was midwife relieved of the bundle

that she turned around, marking an end for her moving off. The first thought that crossed my mind; 'This is going to be a boring moment.' I rustles my feathers for a few minutes of comfort in the chair, until the midwife is to return and relieve me of the red bundle to once again hand to the mother. In preparation of some idle time, I crossed my legs, leaned back, rested elbows digging in the brown leather padded armrests, and got to think at a moment; 'OK! Show me your face.' Hanging at the hooks of my thumbs from the little figure's arm pits, feathery on my strong builder's arms, I moved the little red bundle away to saddled on the knee of my crossed over leg. A pair of finger sets shaped in a basket from her collar and flourished like a flower at first sun rays in support of her little wobbly head. No sooner faded away the breeze of a thought through my mind; 'What am I going to do with her?' that the mask of a fresh white cauliflowera breaking through clearing leaves, gazed at me, and with a thoughtful regard asked; 'Am I supposed to know you?' I was taken aback seeing a childhood's large rising equatorial sun eying over the silhouette of the volcano crater piercing a first sun ray waking up the landscapeb on which I walked. She appeared as surprised to emerge from the cradle of humanityc, seeing without eyes, hearing without ears, speaking without vocal cords, yet from the beacon of her mind all her senses activated the angels of colorsd meeting conscious in a body, questioning me out loud in her thoughts; Where do you come from? I watched her master a stream of iridescent veils sailinge a few long trails of angelic dancing waves an esoteric color barcode through the vacuum of a teleportation tube connecting the option of reasonf interfacingg the brain color-synthetich spreading through the nervous system to the extremes of every sub-brain of an organ with the stroke of an angelic music, inconspicuous biorhythm from the ancestral universe . Esoteric and in the far depth of space, weaving a cocoon at the source for a quasi volition. Weathery the birth of an apparent quasar at the extreme of the universe is building up a momentum gathering cloud. Shaping the puppeteer spreading wingsi as beautiful than the multi-colors of a butterfly. Visible through the vacuum of a telescopic tube, showing the natural course of volition the soul evolves one's unique identity. A centralj control room accessing one's spirit. From the physique of the body, the mind has eight options of choice for its destiny, but, the manipulator awake in the soul, with feathery fingers playing the harp at wish. Moving the marionette of one's being by wavering down angelic colors that one's imagination perceives as one's own thought with the launch of thought missiles from the brain, and that before a thought bubble is formulated, the mind blown a fireworks of ideas. At the sound of spattering, cracking the unconscious by a twist of reality. The escaping gases dissipating by visual fumes in thin air, leaving burned out flints as a residual dust falling to the ground. In the mean while, the virtual beauty is more attractive than the reality, as it is a reflection of the spectacle in motion on the glaze of the lakek on a moonless night. My daughter and me, we have walked along the edge of reality. She has inspired me since birth through discovery land for eighteen years with that sixth sense. Which, catty as a couple of apartment kittens full of mischief feed the neurons. By the hazard at discovering the nervous system with a cleansing ailment that exposed an optic fibers system soiled with age. Maniac about cleanness, I worked at gaining back that youthful power of the mind. To see like a display of flawless crystal figurines on glass shelves sparkle under the spotlights. Angels of color regulating with a methodic and biorhythmic language streams through the nervous system a biochemical feed for the organs of one's body Reinstating the coming off strings of a quasi harp, the quasar soul's will power orchestrating every move of its physical puppet, like musical octaves rhyme syllables to whisper my imagination while reflecting one's mental state and re-enabling reason . I arrived at their home, mother outlined our daughter's dream. At the first opportunity when our daughter returned from a day at work. Seated face to face across the dining glass tabletop, I incited her to talk about her aunt and uncle living on the southern hemisphere. While, aware that dreams unleash secretes. if considered a light above the glass sheet as the reality, underneath the transparent glass top and by degree of reflection a virtual dependency and

perception of the reality. I questioned our daughter. No sooner proud as a rooster crowing at first light, in an excited tone of voice by her discovery of a reality, she said; I've had a dream which was so unbelievable real... Dreams by degree of clarity is the ride along a misty mountain way, a white cloudy mind, emerging with a dissipating fog that clears the mystique from the mysteries. The fading away that clears a virtual view and approaching the reality by the colors of a vision. Our daughter is on the spot as reporter describes her story. I am attentive to the details in the abstract, as in turn grows to mind a vision particular to the background, checking for a concordance, and set aside the riddle and reporters tendency aimed at keeping viewers focused on the banality of the story. Our daughter said; I saw it like real. Herself surprised by the authentic and telepathic discovery. Enthusiastic about what a dream carries sight through the glass and in another period of time, simulating teleportation. In an insistent tone of voice, said; believe me, It was real, Draregl was there. Our daughter paid a lot of attention since the begin on the pen that she saw used at signing the Deed of Sale. With the presence of her soul in thin air above the tropical yard of my sister's Hazyviewm house. She begun to wonder, saying; In the driveway. Insisted, I saw the buyer of the house. Like her uncle's friend, but, with a heavy belly. Her voice grew less enthusiastic, remorseful, saying; I saw Bon'man But were was I I'll never see the house I literally grew up in, on vacations? It crossed my mind, and without spoiling her experience with such banality, I was seeking the moral issue that a dream carries. The shades and details, such as in this case the importance she brought to the pen that signed the Deed of Sale, and the overweight buyer, while my sister was secondary in the affair. In dues time with patience, I'll find out by a discrete ear and eavesdropping in on my sister and brother-in-law. In the meantime, I am struck dumb, by our daughter's flawless mind, interpreting the authentic resident of her character, free from emotional disturbance, which the angels of colors can agitate and perturb the mind.

a .../... Elsewhere; the mind at birth pure white as a cauliflower b .../... Elsewhere; From Children of the Jungle, nature's clock, from the purlieu extinct volcano crater c .../... Elsewhere: Black Luminescence, tells the writer's psychic journey to the eon of time to the cradle of humanity in caves without issue living by Sensory Perception. d .../... More about the Biorhythmic impulses and symbiosis of the body organs e .../... Elsewhere: Light, Sight, the mechanics of sight, how and why memory ... f .../... Elsewhere: The Atomium, the structure of our universe, active as is in this case the pipe linking two, of the eight options of destiny inactive and opening to other universes. g .../... Elsewhere: the brain is that portion of a tree trunk where every vein from the palm of a leaf is linked to the radical in the ground... connecting space to earth. h .../... Elsewhere: the principle of photosynthesis but by colors, also see; matter is the concentration of colors. i .../... Elsewhere; Zodiacal arena, in detail, quasi volition building up to one's soul, j .../... Elsewhere; the 4th dimension k .../... Elsewhere: Children of the Jungle l .../... Our daughter's uncle m .../... In South Africa. n .../... Nickname of her grandmother who passed away a few years earlier.