If given the choice again between dreaming of being covered with snakes or covered with roaches, please choose the snakes. Roach feet are prickly.
I almost titled this Bitching Journal, but that would mean renaming nearly every post already up to that moniker. But really though. Fuck roaches.
He poured the tea with deliberate slowness. The laminar flow of tea into the cup contrasted neatly with the gentle swirls rolling the surface of the tea in the cup. Both motions were framed expertly by the stillness of the cup itself and the placement of the spoon beside the saucer.
He waited for the surface of the tea to settle before breaking my attention away with a silent offer of declined sugar.
“Why are you here?” Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-10-11.01
The headache was trying to become a fledgling migraine but I was doing my best to sabotage the attempt. I laid down in the darkened room and wore an eye shield for literal cold comfort on the sensitive right side of my face.
If the talons on my nose and mouth didn’t wake me, the loud call in my face would have. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-10-10.01
“Whose fire burns upon your brow, angel?”
Socheniel answers. He can’t lie. That doesn’t prevent me from unhearing him.
I think the truth would shatter me.
Of cruel gods and crueler intentions.
Of misery extended by acts of kindness.
And understanding withheld lest the heart fails completely.
Of game pieces held in place against inertia.
Of webs pulling trapped limbs in unnatural bends.
And the silencing of the fervent prayer lest the game ends prematurely.
Of the inhumane weeping at the inhumanity.
Of the ignorance that will never be filled.
And the hand seizing mine from widening the bleeding hole in my heart.
“I need you to trust me.”
Oh shit. Like that ever ended with anything I didn’t regret. I just grunted at him in response.
“I need a vessel and a catalyst. You’re both.”
Less grunting and more growling. I didn’t like his implication.
“It will be the worse for them if you don’t help. It will be only a minor amount and length of discomfort for you if you do. But you know what pressures are on them.”
“I won’t save them from themselves.”
“I’m not asking that.”
“What are you asking?”
“That you not be duplicated.”
That kept me from swinging at him even though I knew he could move as fast as thought. “I’ll think about it.”
I woke up with my tongue severely bitten again. I need to stop thinking about these things.
Because there’s no better sensation than being held down by an unknown force in a pitch black room while your soul/spirit is being pulled out of your body through the crown of your head, right?
What do you mean cause for alarm? I still have another half-dozen soul pieces left.
Seriously, though. Fuck my dreams. Just… Fuck.
It’s only pareidolia. That’s what I keep telling myself, but I don’t on a deep level, I’m not accepting the bullshit. Continue reading Spirit Journal: 2016-09-19.01
Dreamt I walked through the twisting cave alone. No light save the lit oil lamp I brought with me. It illuminated my hand clearly, but everything else was seen more with imagination than sight. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-09-19.01
“You’re going to have to face him eventually.”
I went back to the last state I saw him in. I wondered if I should have gone full formal with Orphic hymns and ritual washing and proper preparation of a space that will never be properly clean no matter how close I cleave to traditional ways. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-09-17.01