I have had many “normal” (read: nonsense) dreams since the Black Armored Angel jumped off the mountain with me. At first I discounted them as mere noise and entertainment because there was no continuity between them, no tells of entities sandboxing me. Until I took notes and compared them all.
Writers of fanfics are familiar with the term “AU”, an acronym for “alternative universe”. An AU allows the writer to explore known characters in situations and environments alternate to the works of canon, the “official setting”, that the characters are a part of. What if two well-known action movie heros were merely two college students claiming the last table in a coffee shop? How would their characters react in such a setting if they kept the same personality traits as known in the movies but had none of the superhero stuff?
What if I were accidentally set adrift in space and the Black Armored Angel was the alien who rescued me? How would we interact without a shared language or cultural symbols? Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-05-27.01”
But I’m totes up to something.
Dreamt of a spirit starting, maintaining, and finishing shit. A number of clergy, cunningfolk, and witches all tried to capture, constrain, and bind this spirit to no avail. To each one it gave a different name that turned out not to be its name at all when it mattered.
It came to me and stirred my coffee widdershins in the mug. I laughed to see it. It froze my laptop and caused me to see bright sparks around the screen as if it was shorting out. But because I knew the freeze was recoverable and the sparks were illusions, I just clapped and appreciated the show.
It then threw terrible visions in my eyes and caused all sorts of sensations to be felt that were uncomfortable and triggering. But I knew that these too were illusions and waited them out. When they ended, I looked at the spirit and told it “Good game. Thank you for reminding me that I am stronger than I feel.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-05-05.01”
It’s dark. (It’s always dark.)
The glyph covered rod in my left hand is warm from my grip as I look up into the infinite black sky. (It’s always dark.)
(Saint) George said I needed a control rod, something to hold on to. Not to force my fears to submit to me and yield (which they will never do), but to remind me that no matter how large my fears become, no matter how small I feel before them, I’m still here.
I look down at my left hand. The rosary is wrapped loosely around my hand. Its crucifix dangles between my fingers. It is black and shiny and plain. Like the armor I am waiting to see.
I hear something, but I am not sure if it is an actual noise or a wish too strongly made. I take a step towards it, kicking pebbles into movement as my stance slips and I realize I’m standing on a rocky slope. It is a place I remember but cannot identify because of the complete lack of stars above me.
(Has it always been this dark?) Continue reading “Dream Journal: Communion”
On April 18, JLR Kruse asked me:
“Also, how do you feel now afterwards? Do you still feel afraid of the black armored angel?”
And I answered what was a true answer at the time of:
“To be honest, I don’t know. There is the memory of fear and the anticipation that it will occur again because “logic” tells me that such a deep-seated fear will not be shifted literally overnight. But there is also the absence of anxiety now and an intense level of ambivalence about encountering them again. I guess I won’t know until they are present and I observe my reaction.”
But my answer has changed since then.
Continue reading “The Absence of Fear”
I am done being afraid.
Yesterday morning, I had the epiphany that as long as I avoided the fear of encountering the black armored angel, then I would continue being terrified of the black armored angel. From our first encounter, they have demonstrated patience, concern, and benevolence. It is I who have ascribed ulterior motives, hostility, and aggression to their countenance.
Enough of this shit. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-04-17.01”
In keeping with previous instructions, I had to up my meditation “game”. Now loathe to spend money on status symbols and unnecessary trinkets after the mindless indulgences of last year, last month’s “impulse” purchase of a well used mala was proving itself worthwhile as it kept my hands busy enough to allow my mind to shed itself of busy-ness.
And yet, somehow even with the assistance of a zafu cushion to stabilize my seating posture, I still fell asleep. I realized I had gone sideways in my morning meditation when I heard the clear voice coming from the space in front of me. Space that I knew was occupied by a large piece of furniture.
“Nice beads.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-04-15.01”
Yesterday, my mentor sat across from me in my office at work with the door closed and discussed official and personal matters. I kept my hands clasped on the desk between us and listened carefully to what was said, what wasn’t said, and what was felt. Continue reading “The Spinning Ring”
I knew I was somewhere underground, somewhere lost in a large cave system, but I did not know which cave system or why I was here. So I obeyed the first rule of realizing you’re lost.
I sat down. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-04-14.01”
I received the Animalis Os Fortuna deck last year as part of a kickstarter reward during a period when I had more money than sense. My original plan was to give away the deck (and its companion oracle deck) to a friend whose personal theme was animal decks, but each time I went to package up the still sealed decks, something always got in the way.
After the move, I resigned myself to having this deck in my personal possession for much longer than I thought, and finally broke the seal so I could look through the cards and see just how much trouble I’ve gotten myself into.
My thumbnail punctured the seal and I watched the box
take a breath expand as if inhaling for the first time since birth printing.
“You broke it, you own it.”
Well, shit. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-04-12.01”