Why do mosquitoes have to wait until I've just entered the later stages of trance state before buzzing at just the right frequency to send my astral body careening back so I can grumpily wave my hand at them? Either they're trying to hinder my planar explorations or they're protecting me from some concealed evil (the dream yogic equivalent of a trojan).
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Today was a day of much reminiscing. I caught up with one of my friends whom I've known since I was about 4. The oddest fragments of memory emerged, and a few pivotal cartoon series were dragged back from the depths. It is remarkably creepy how pronounced an effect the odd season of Botz Master, The Visonaries, or Mighty Orbots can have in recall.
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Time for another attempt at astral. The bass is so much better there...
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