Dream Journal: 2017-06-13.01

I woke up.

The old quilt was comfortably heavy upon me and held me gently in the straw stuffed bed. I could see where the pitch had become thin between the boards of the rough cottage. Dried and drying flowers hung in bunches above me. A bee was trying to coax the last memory of spring from a yellowing white flower before the pervasive chill could not be ignored anymore.

“She’s awake.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-06-13.01”

Dream Journal: 2017-05-31.01

The ceiling split and crumbled away in defiance of gravity as the light solidified and fell as dust on my waking face. I mumbled something akin to “da fuq” as a figure shrouded with the darkness that scares underbed monsters descended to hover over me.

It lifted its face revealing a time stained skull devoid of any flesh and yet from the cavernous dry sockets came some sensation of observation. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-05-31.01”

Dream Journal: 2017-05-17.01

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”

Dream Journal: 2017-05-15.01

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”

Dream Journal: 2017-05-07.01

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”

Spirit Journal: 2017-05-06.01

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.

“Explain.” Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-05-06.01”

Spirit Journal: 2017-05-05.01

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”