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  • My first recollections of the issue of ego come from three years of age.
    Of course, at that age, I didn't know it was ego I was dealing with.

    I had been in what could be described as comatose state, for almost three days.
    Apparently I had been diagnosed with pneumonia.

    When I came out of it, my memories are these.
    Mum was bathing me in the babies bathtub up on the narrow kitchen bench.
    'I'm too old for this bathtub!' Ego fella. Very annoyed.
    But I was so crook I just went with it. Not enough energy for resisting much at all.
    I can remember feeling that I didn't like being sick and actually thinking, I won't do this again;
    wondering why it's happening and how to avoid this feeling I didn't like.
    Sort of like, 'why did they invent this stuff? It's not right!'

    Then the nurse arrived from town, to check up on my status and bring some honeycomb.
    I felt embarrassed because I was in the nude. Ego again.
    Most of us would have been conditioned by that age, that we are supposed to be dressed in 'public'.
    So why are we breaking the rules here? Because you are sick, dummy.
    Yeah, well, I'm too sick to do anything about it. How do you shrink when you really need to?

    But then real shock. Merde! Panic job! Because Aunty Phil and cousin Maree arrive as the nurse left. I'm still nude! Still in the babies bath even! Oh, merde! Mum! You've taken too long! Aw Mum! Maree is two years older than me. Oh, merde!
    Man, you are too sick to do anything about this. Why me?
    That's why I detest being sick. You can't run! It's just simply miserable.
    I guess that is when I discovered that feeling of resignation. I give up!
    Sometimes there is no choice. Surrender can be enlightening, in context.

    My body shut down to recuperate when sick. But did not give up.

    Thank goodness they didn't stay long! Just dropping something off, then bolted.
    Now everyone is gone, and Mum is drying me.
    There couldn't have been too much psyche damage, in the immediate sense,
    because my mind is already on other things.
    "Mummy, why are the men floating?"
    That bit I clearly remember as I was almost being shaken off balance by the towelling.
    Mum doesn't know, responding along the lines of, "I don't know dear. I'm not sure what you're talking about."
    That's adding a bit of extra lousiness to the whole deal. She is not aware of what I'm talking about! And there's no energy to pursue it.
    I guess I accepted her answer. Though my head was fighting to know.

    Then around a year later, I've mentioned that incident again to Mum, of me asking that question to her. "Mum, remember when I asked you about why the men are floating?" And she remembered. Probably still thinking she had a nut on her hands. And about a year later again, the same thing. "Yes Trev, you've already asked me that." By now it was definitely an indelible scene and question in my mind.

    At seven years of age I experienced another very profound thing. A Phenomena.
    I then asked Mum again about the men floating question. "Mum you remember when I asked you about the men floating?" Again, she did. Though I had never elaborated on what I saw, just to confirm if she had remembered it. "You were very sick then", she'd said, each time I'd asked.
    When I was older, I thought maybe she was trying to infer back then, that I had lost my mind!

    The image I saw wasn't when I was awake.
    I was asking her about something already further back in the past.
    From when I was asleep, in that comatose state.
    It was so lucid, it would have been my first lucid dream that I remember.
    Though I do refer to it as a vision, because of what I recall of the sensations that arrived within it.

    Mind you, that's not the only thing that I'd been asking Mum about, successively, over extended periods. I got my license young. To drive my Mum up the wall. Lucky she is very patient with kids!
    It's like I can read her mind, "What's he gonna ask this time?" So I ask something, just to show I heard the question in her head. Something I've done on occasion in other settings. Freaked out a few tourists that way! Good-way. They were happy to experience the insights. Former art teacher Jan said many years later, that I was always bringing up something interesting in class. Thank goodness it wasn't lunch.

    When I was really beginning to get into drawing, I drew what I saw, the two men. That was when I was in school. Five years old. Then at seven I drew it again. And again at fifteen. And again at thirty. It's OK, there's nothing remotely Fibonacci about this. Just that other things had occurred at those periods that made me want to draw it again.

    The interesting thing to me was, where did that image come from?
    I still couldn't really say why that image was so important to me at the young age.
    Why it kept resurfacing, a lot.
    Other than, in time, I had identified the incredulous aspect of the image itself.
    Mum thought I was talking about men floating in the bath.
    Perhaps like fairy friends or something along those lines.

    At some stage I knew of dreams.
    Experiencing dreams in my early years, the same question arose.
    Where are the images coming from.
    If you hallucinate on drugs, you get some crazy stuff. Hey, I didn't know that till much older!
    And that was a once off. Glad I'd had those mushies. Just for the experience. Knowing even then it was going to be a once off. For some reason I thought that to try and duplicate the euphoria wouldn't work. I didn't want something different, next time, so I kept the one and only, untainted.

    Animated dream images may not make sense, logically, though their separate elements can and usually do, once you decipher the symbols. Often they are elements within sequenced images that could in all probability be real, as in, feasible. Accumulated experience in the waking world will tell us that, yes, it is possible to be chased by a gorilla, yes it is possible to be falling, yes it possible to fly, in your dreams.
    And the elements within the dream could be said to mostly come from some experience or another in this life, whether from listening to stories, fact or fiction, or looking at pictures. Yes, that is a UFO. We can identify that it is unidentified.

    But where did the image of floating men come from?
    At that age, no comic books, no TV, no real-time phenomena to equate it to.
    No environmental cue to a subconscious library collection of self-experiential symbols.
    So that was my first experience that I can remember that later gave me an insight into the haziness of the conscious realm.
    That there are things, seemingly intangible, seemingly unbelievable, that come from a conscious source that are not directly cued from experiences in this life.
    Why do I think that?
    Because the two Aboriginal men that I saw, I came to learn, weren't floating.
    They were levitating.
    Did I see men levitating in real life before three years of age? Probably not.
    Did I see such an image in a book? Probably not. Even those fairy tale books with Peter and his Pan-handling friends and stuff we didn't get to see until Christmas at five years old. Books cost money. Mums hand-me-downs were Snugglepot and Cuddlepye. There were no childcare libraries in our bush. Maybe visiting someone in town I was exposed to images of flying fairies. At any rate, these two fellas had no wings. And they weren't flying. They were floating.

    Why did I use the word floating? I feel it is association to knowing things at that age like, feathers and leaves float down. Without wings. They are not on the ground. Balloons and bubbles float up and around. They are not on the ground. Without wings.
    The men I saw were not on the ground, without wings.
    They were clearly suspended in space. There was no background other than black space.
    Dark men illuminated in black space.
    And they had that, floating, hovering 'feel' to them. An element not understood as levitation until much later.
    They were both smiling at me.
    I didn't know it then, but I know now, they were looking out for me.
    Telling me everything was gonna be OK.
    I always remember those fellas when in a tight spot.
    One reason why I kept drawing them.


    I've devoted my life to the study of symbols.
    On body language I can say that some of which is written as all-inclusive, no-flexibility interpretations is actually cultural in context. Therefore 'generalisations', and limited as such.
    To me it's no wonder that Aboriginal Peoples are often misinterpreted by 'visitors'.
    Time and again, western perceptions and interpretive systems erroneously placed upon Indigenous issues.

    Symbols exist in the language of memory; If they've been perceived, they still exist in the conscious realm, somewhere.
    At the turn of the century I'd written, 'Everything taking place in the corporeal world is a symbol of something taking place, somewhere, in the realm of consciousness.' (I'd probably read something similar by that stage).
    But if you look closely at the last two statements, you may think we are back to the chicken and the egg. Yes Dan! I forgot to pack the parachute! Reckon levitation would save me?

    Image: Two men levitating for me at three years of age. 2012 version.
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