It has been about two months since I last saw anything from the hillside spirit I zoom past to and from work. I had mentioned to others that it felt like a door was gradually closing starting last fall when the harvesting of the fields around the hill was at its peak. Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-05-29.01”
The unyielding floor boards pressed into my knees, alerting me that I was not in my room anymore. My black feather cloak moved with my hands as I brushed my fingers over the worn blemished wood.
A series of small bright flares caught my attention, and without looking up I knew I was surrounded by a multitude of candles. Some were tapers and some were pillars and some were tea lights and some were salvaged. All were pressed tightly together and had obviously been burning for some time. The wax runoffs pooled together to create a sealing ring around me.
I looked up. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-05-17.01”
Can’t a body get some rest? Here I am, sitting on some rocks on the side of a mountain. It’s just before dawn. It’s just after sunset. It’s the height of noon. It’s the dead of night.
Where and when I am doesn’t matter. The only thing that is important here is that I am seated and I am at peace. I’ve had very little of either status in the waking lately.
And then the Swarm came. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-05-15.01”
I knew some type of precipitation was going to roll in this weekend, but I expected the usual failed promises from the meteorologists. Instead, I received the opposite, with a vigorous storm rolling over everyone’s exposed wood dash convertibles and unsealed wicker furniture.
Pareidolia had me seeing canine imagery in the quickly moving clouds this time instead of angels. [Sunchaser], contrary to common myth, likes to “politely invite” me to his shenanigans. He’ll send canines to me in one way or another to let me know he will be calling for me to join his pack within a day or two. The multitude of canines in the clouds, gradually becoming more and more misshapen and distorted, meant to be ready once the sun sets.
He did not call until shortly before my desired bed time. As the temperature dropped, the winds increased. Gusts sounded like barking and the trees’ whistling rose as fell with the local dogs suddenly crying out. I was nearly overcome with a sudden smothering lethargy and thought it best that I go to bed immediately. As I prepared, I began to speak his name then involuntarily fell as something clutched my mind, howling to match the roaring outside. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-05-07.01”
A Catholic friend and I often have conversations about her faith and my lack. Neither one seeks or even wants to convert the other, but the space between us is an accepting one and she knows she can air out her doubts without condemnation for or against from me. Our most common reply to each other in these moments has been “And how does that make you feel?”
In a moment of complete lack of mental brakes, she asked me for my opinion on Mass, and I let slip the inconsiderate answer of “It’s a magic ritual.”
The silence that followed felt like bricks falling on my head.
The clouds looked brushed across the morning sky as if by a great hand with greater sweeps. I thought nothing of them as I merged onto the freeway on my way to work.
An idle brain does idle things, and clouds were made for wishes anyway, so no wonder I started to see patterns in the streaks of water vapor so far up in the sky.
No wonder then that my response to seeing an angel dominating the sky before me was, “Sure. Why not?” Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-05-05.01”
Angel. Their appearance hit softly against my senses. Just hard enough for me to identify them, just soft enough for me to be aware I was not in conflict with them. I flinched anyway. Continue reading “Path of Daleth: Epilogue”
“Now wait here for at two hours. We want to make sure you are not going to have a post-surgery reaction to the modifications.” The nurse patted my arm and started their rounds.
I was lying on a gurney in the hallway with several other patients. Each of us had undergone some transformative surgery. They had submitted willingly. The restraints on my arms keeping me prone on the gurney testifies I had not. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-04-29.01”
I had closed my eyes for a long rest before getting on with the late evening’s obligations. I did not realize I had fallen asleep until I had opened my eyes and found myself standing in a place of darkness illuminated only by the two large concentric rings of white light surrounding me on the ground.
“Trust me.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-04-27.01”
In my time honored tradition of avoiding one problematic thing by immersing myself in another one, I made another attempt to pass the flames of the Path of Daleth again. I reckoned that if the angelic blessing was going to be dumped on my head willing or not, I might as well take advantage of it.
I did not think I would be able to transition to Binah. The headspace is different. The awareness is different. Sometimes I make it, but what I bring back is in an incomprehensible language that I only have the feelings of but can’t transmit the memory of in any humanly comprehensible way.
I was surprised to open my eyes and not only find myself standing on the waters of Binah, but to be softly glowing myself as well.
Mary was waiting for me. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-04-20.01”