the godfather

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(if you should learn to do this will your toys of knowing, you will achieve a form of liberty more valuable than any other skill)

‘the godfather ’

In late August of 2004, one night as I lay down to sleep I formed the intention to have a lucid dream. I don’t do this very often, for reasons I’ll not here detail except to say that the results tend to be confounding and perilous. There’s a special place down inside one’s belly where intentions can be voiced in a way that isn’t something we’re taught, but instead something we know. That’s the sum of my ‘technique’, but it does take practice to locate this ancient speaking place within. No expertise required, just practice.

Some months ago I had begun working on a concept related to a feature of trines which I believe to be novel, a hidden trinitarian symmetry in the progression of integers themselves. A few days prior to this I had begun assembling my notes and diving into a direct exploration of an ancient teaching-toy called the tetraktys.

I was in New York (a place I’ve never seen) and was part of a large Italian community, all of whom were members of the syndicate. The time seemed to be 30 to 40 years ago. Some sort of issue had come up, which the godfather of our branch of the family needed aid with, and he needed someone of uncommon intelligence, rather than muscle — so he called on me. I was honored to oblige, and had no misgivings about meeting the old man as I was asked to.

We arrived in the late afternoon at a rather shoddy small house, which was practically crammed with Guidoes in overcoats. Most of them were in their 30’s and 40’s, but a few were clearly godfathers themselves. The Don I was there to help led me into a small room in the back of the house with about 8 other men, and he and I sat at a large wooden desk, him to my right. Everyone else was standing.

On the desk before me was a very plain book, beige in color, about the size of an encyclopedia volume. It was open to somewhere near the middle. The right page was blank. Centered on the left page were three brief, but complex verbal problems. As I scanned them I realized that these were probably what the godfather needed my help with, but unfortunately each one was complex in that it used language from a specific branch of knowing. I sensed that the problems were in fact simple, but the language they were stated in was going to present a serious problem. I wasn’t certain I could translate them to terms I could pursue. As I looked up for a moment, A tall man standing next to the seated Don pulled out a squarish handgun, cocked it, pointed at the Don’s head, jerked off a couple of pretend shots, then did the same to me. Then he said: ‘Five Minutes’, in an extremely serious voice. The Don glanced at me to confirm that this wasn’t a game. I looked back at the book briefly, started to realize that this shoddy little room might be the last thing I looked upon in life, and woke up.

In general, I don’t like to solve things under threat. Especially a threat involving guns. Yet the strange thing I continually forget, is that in dreams, the threat of ‘death’ is synonymous with ‘travel’ not ‘dissolution’. Easier to realize this when awake.

In the aftermath of the dream, I became extremely curious about the nature of the puzzles in the book, and I also felt that I had seriously let the godfather down. He was somewhere in dreamland, ostensibly frozen in time, and awaiting rescue. I couldn’t simply walk out on him — but I couldn’t stay there and get us both killed, either. In short, I needed more time — and the easiest way to get that was to enter another dimension — the waking one — where his flow of time and mine would diverge. Over on the waking-side of the timeline, I could gain all the time I needed.

I wanted to know what that book was, what it was about — what the nature of the problems were — but I had no useful recollections of those matters. I also had a strange curiosity about the gun, and for some reason I wanted ‘to know more about it’. The next night, I formed the same intention, and went to sleep.

Again, sometime during the next morning, I found myself in a dream with the same plot. The difference was that I knew about all of the particulars, and about what would happen if I showed up. The conflict was that if I showed up, I’d have to face the problems with insufficient preparation, and if I didn’t, my own mob family would hunt me down, and the Don would be killed for having failed the test.

I knew I wasn’t going to show up, however. There was no way to win, given the current set-up. What I needed, was inside information. I somehow found my way to the house where the meet would occur (later that dreamday), and I managed to get a glimpse into the room. The gun and the book were on the desk. I could see that I had misunderstood the appearance of the book before, because this one was smaller and was clearly a copy of the Holy Bible. Next to the book, to the left of it, was a gun — and I recognized it — a .45 automatic.

I spent some time avoiding patrols that were looking for me, and feeling badly about not being able to aid the Don, who I had committed to help, especially in a time of need. Nonetheless, I wasn’t prepared to face the sort of trap that was set up without a way to resolve it. I saw the Don, in front of the meeting-house at the appointed time. He was scanning the area, looking profoundly concerned. I knew two things: it would go deadly for me if I was caught, and that I had to find a way to actually help him, without placing myself at the mercy of the Mob. I awoke.

And that morning I discovered the symmetries within trineMath. For the next two weeks I worked furiously to expose a kind of ‘useless proof’ — being that numerological procedures reveal symmetries based on exponential weavings of reflective numbers — in the linear list of decimal integers.

The reason is as captivating as it is graceful: over here, in our world, there is a kind of a gun pointed at everything holy, every mother, child, father and family, in every living species. The godfather is, literally, ‘god’. The threat is to the entire world, and it’s being posed by a ‘syndicate’ founded on a deadly form of ignorance that mimics sophistication. The clock is literally ticking — in all worlds, and somehow we have to find a way...

before our time runs out. Seems strange to realize that it’s our own hands holding the gun, and driving the clock. God is looking everywhere for a tiny hero who can save the planet. Frankly, I’m stepping up to bat.

Notice the meaning of the .45 caliber ‘automatic’ here? It’s the hidden symmetry inside the ratios of the reflectives. Imperfect, slightly variable — yes — but consistently repeated nonetheless. The scent of the ‘secret magical identity’ of the number 9.