From the December 1999 Idaho Observer:

A Dream of Reality

A beautifully crafted allegory for those who are awake enough to see that the dice roll to whatever numbers the pitbosses say they roll. Isn't it something how not only is everything not as it seems, some of the people we love the most refuse to see things for what they really are?

by Bill Walter

You are in a gambling casino. Somehow you know that. A misty atmosphere fills the place. It's not your proverbial smoke filled room -- more like a thick fog, yet the room is brightly lighted.

The place seems to be deserted. Where are the game tables? Where are all the people? You hear a distant scream and a ripple of excitement, a peculiar sound only a small group of humans can make, half mumbling to themselves in unison. Someone shouts something in a monotone but you can't make out the words. The sound is coming from someplace up ahead, it's source hidden in the mist.

Suddenly the mist begins to thin before your eyes and, sure enough, dimly discernible some distance away there appears to be a group of people crowding around a large, waist-high table. You drift in their direction. You can't feel your feet taking the steps as you move closer, you sort of float along, effortlessly. There it is again, that scream you heard earlier. Again the ripple of excitement from the crowd around the table.

A voice drones, “Seven, a winner, a front-line winner!”

Well, you exclaim to yourself, what do you know, a crap table! And it looks like it's the only game in town, the rest of this place looks deserted. You're close to the table now, drifting slowly but surely toward the nearest end where an opening appears among the patrons -- a place for you.

There stands the croupier, the casino employee positioned at the center of the table holding a long stick with a crook on the end. He manages the table operations.

“Comin' out,” he shouts. “Come out roll.”

As you arrive at the table you notice a tall, handsome, blond-headed young stud at the other end of the table. He's blowing on the dice in his right hand.

Blonde shouts, “Come on baby, one more time!”

The cubes fly from his hand, through the air inches above the felt table top, slam into the end of the table right in front of you and, bouncing and bobbing across its surface, race back in his direction. They finally come to rest in front of the casino attendant standing to the croupier's left. The croupier takes his long stick and gathers up the cubes, dragging them across the table to a point directly in front of him.

“Eight, easy eight. Eight is your point,” he says.

The attendants on both sides of the croupier pick up what looks for all the world like oversized black colored hockey pucks with a white spot on their top sides and they each place one of them on one of the numbered squares printed on the table before them, white side up; the number Eight.

No one at the table takes any notice whatever of your arrival. The croupier is busy doing what croupiers do while both attendants are busy gathering up the chips of the losers and following players' betting instructions. Patrons all around the table are excitedly reaching forward to place chips on every conceivable place on the printed patterns on the table top.

You take a roll of bills from your pocket, strip off a couple of hundreds and pass them to the nearest attendant saying, “Chips, please.”

In a flash he passes the bills to the croupier who uses a plastic gadget to push the bills down through a slot in the table in front of him and the attendant places eight $25 chips on the table in front of your position. You pick them up and place them in a slotted grove running along the top of the table rim. Now you're ready to join in the festivities.

“Come on you beauties, give me eight the hard way,” shouts blonde.

The dice come crashing off the table wall in front of you and come to rest once again farther down the table.

“CRAPS,” shouts the croupier. “Seven, line away -- Coming out, folks!”

You observe the beautiful, blue-eyed, brunette with long hair standing next to blonde let out a loud moan. It was she who had let out the screams of delight when her handsome escort was making all those sevens earlier.

Just then one of the attendants, having been relieved by another casino employee, leaves his position and takes a player's spot farther down the table from you. It is then that you realize the new attendant had been playing at the table earlier. In fact looking around you see several other casino employees acting as patrons when they're not working the table. Strange!

The mist that surrounded the table earlier has now drifted some distance away. You look around the table at the patrons. They all seem to be having a great time, including blonde and his girl friend who, interestingly enough, have remained at the table, both having placed sizable new bets and appear eager for the next come-out roll. Judging from the “model city” in stacks of chips they had previously spread all over the table, which all disappeared when he crapped out, blonde must have lost a sizable bundle -- certainly in the thousands on that last roll.

You observe that the patrons here come in all sizes, shapes, sexes, colors, and ages; a kind of cross section of adult humanity surrounding this table. All of them are obviously eager to get on with the game. You place four chips on the “LINE” printed on the strip on the table in front of your position at the table.

“Comin' out,” advises the croupier and the cubes fly across the table face once again.

The players to your right place their bets, get their points, throw the dice, and one by one, crap out passing the dice to the player on their left. Bing, bing, bing the dice pass from one player to the next. My, how time flies when you're having fun. You have lost your several hundred dollars and repeated this act several times over when suddenly the guy next to you craps out. The croupier passes three pairs of dice to a point on the table directly in front of you. Well, well, you've got the dice -- it's your turn to roll. You are supposed to reach down and select the pair of dice which “speak to you,” pick 'em up and roll 'em.

Having dutifully placed another stack of four chips on the LINE , you reach down intending to pick out the pair of dice you want to play with and for the first time since you joined this table you get a good look at the dice.

AND YOU GET THE SHOCK OF YOUR LIFE!

You can't believe what your eyes behold! You decide what your eyes are seeing must be an hallucination. You blink and rub your eyes and lean over the table to take a careful look at that collection of dice on the table. Oh, this cannot be, you say to yourself. You stare at these dice in abject horror. The dice have no markings on them -- no little dots depicting the numbers one through six. You reach down and flip all of them over lightly with the tips of your fingers making no attempt to pick any of them up.

These are not legitimate crap game dice! Every one of these six “dice” is nothing but a clear crystal cube. All this time we, all of us around this table, have been playing craps with totally blank crystal cubes. All this time the croupier has been calling out the winning and losing numbers, paying out chips to the “winners” and picking up the chips from the “losers!” Obviously, he could call out whatever number he wanted to, there certainly weren't any dice on the table showing those numbers! “What the hell kind of game is this,” you ask yourself?

“What the hell kind of game is this?” you ask aloud, picking up a pair of the crystal cubes and holding them high in the air for all to see.

You look at the attendants and the croupier each in turn. They each merely smile back at you saying nothing.

Waving the crystal cubes about in the air, you shout, “Look at these so-called dice, you people,” addressing the multitude standing around the table.

You show the cubes to the players standing on both sides of you. Neither of them act surprised. The man on your left just smiles at you.

The guy on your right says, “So?”

“So?” you shout. “So these so-called dice don't have any numbers on 'em -- they're just blank crystal cubes. Can't you see that? What do you think about that folks, huh?” you shout, your voice cracking in utter disbelief.

You look into the faces of the people standing around that table. They are all positively stoic. They are all staring at you as if they haven't heard or understood a word of what you have said. They don't seem to have any interest whatever in what you are showing them.

“What the hell's the matter with you people? Don't any of you understand what they are doing to us here?” you shout. “Don't you see what kind of game this is? It's a total fraud!” you scream. “They are stealing us blind. The only game being played here is 'Pick The Peoples Pockets' and we, all of us, are the victims!”

Again you examine the faces of the players around the table. There is not a sign of comprehension of the situation from any of them. In fact, after a slight pause, the usual flurry of activity resumes. You're amazed to see most of the players placing bets on the table while the attendants busily adjust things.

“What the hell is this?” you sputter in frustration. “Stop it! For Christ's sake stop this madness and listen to me!”

“You are holding up the play, sir!,” the croupier drones. “Coming out, folks.”

You look the croupier straight in the eye and angrily ask, “How long do you expect to get away with this? Why, you're nothing but a bunch of thieves! These people aren't going to put up with this thing forever!”

The croupier smiles at you and remarks, “Oh, I don't think we have anything much to worry about. If you don't believe me, just look at their faces,” he gestures, waving his right arm in an arc toward the players around the table.

Now you look at all their faces, the croupier, the two attendants, the players. They are all staring at you. You can see they are losing patience with you -- demanding with their eyes that you toss the crystal cubes you have in your right hand.

A voice from the multitude says angrily, “For cryin' out loud, come on fella. If you're not goin' ta take your turn pass them dice along to the next guy, will ya, please?”

“Yeah,” shouts another, “Let's get this show on the road!”

The croupier in a strained but polite voice says, “You must roll the dice now, sir or pass them on! NOW, SIR!”

You look at the pair of clear, crystal cubes in your hand. What are you going to do? This is obviously the only game in town. You can't call the authorities, there aren't any to call who will support your cause. There is no higher authority than the crooks who run this game and they like things just the way they are. The only way to put a stop to this ripoff is for all the people around this table to “get mad as hell and refuse to take it any more.” But it is equally obvious you are not going to get anywhere trying to wake up these people to their awful plight. These people have all been conditioned to accept this game as they would have it played a long, long time ago. These people are, all of them, beyond the reach of reason, beyond the reach of TRUTH. The powers that be, the ones who own the casino and make its rules, have created a phony paradigm for the people. It's an artificial REALITY which makes any true REALITY beyond their understanding, even when the truth is staring them in the face! You wonder if they can ever be made to understand.

If you pass the dice to the next player and walk away from the table you will most certainly slip back into the foggy never-never land from which you came; oblivion. If you pass the “dice” and yet remain at the table you will be expected to put money on the LINE every time a new roller comes out, obviously just throwing your money away. If you refuse to do this and just stand there, you will be forcibly removed from occupying a place at the table, that's the house rules. But, if you roll the crystal cubes, you will be forced to take the word of the house (the croupier calling the numbers out) as to your having won or lost.

My God, you pray to yourself, if this is a dream let me wake up now, please, dear God.

The croupier says impatiently, “We are all awaiting your decision, sir!”

***

Mr. Walter, retired from the aerospace industry, is preplexed by the same problem that most of us have: Most people, including friends and family, won't be able to see that the New World Order is coming even as the blue-helmeted bastards are raping their adolescent daughters right before their very eyes.

Unfortunately most people see only what they are told to see. It is our lot in life to see things for what they really are. While it may be frustrating and even depressing at times, we, at least, are in good company. There are thousands of examples of how astute people throughout history have recognized the threat. We may not be politically correct and we may not be able to function quietly in "polite" society, but we aren't wrong. ~(DWH)