Journal: 2020-09-17

«Do you want the lesson you are expecting or do you want the lesson that will come to you?»

What I was expecting was a trip to Tiphareth. I had dreamt once of that place before, but was so quickly overwhelmed by what happened there all I could remember was light so intense that not even granite could block it but in the presence of a calming and infectious joy that made everything alright. The question’s wording revealed that there would be flight of fancy this time.

“The lesson that comes to me.”

«Pay attention.»

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Dream Journal: 2020-09-11

For all the times I’ve been here before, I finally noticed that the sky of the Warring Fields is black. Not sure if from smoke or if the crown of the sky is a helm in its own right. I can see just fine. I always have been able to see clearly here. At least when I haven’t been goaded into a berserker rage.

Not sure if I’m on the edge of the Warring Fields. Am sure there is no activity in the immediate vicinity behind me. In front of me, the legions drill and march and wrestle and spar and feign at peace even as they clash against each other. I watch all this with nearly curious indifference.

I have no idea why I’m here.

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Dream Journal: 2020-09-04

The gold castle gleamed in the distance. The sun gave its offering of sunlight and in return the castle declared its splendor to all that would so much as glance at it. I sat on some rubble in the decrepit district and viewed the castle framed between two nearby apartment buildings that were in the process of slowly self-destructing.

I have been here before. And as before, I find I am more comfortable in the squalor of the rubble around me than in the treasury that is the interior of that castle. This district is not abandoned. There are people living here that can’t leave, people living here that won’t leave, and people that visit to prey upon the former and each other. It’s the closest to the waking world I can experience in a dream.

I just don’t understand why I’m here now.

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A Little Weeding

It’s been a long while since I was in the waters of the Gardenmaster. It took me a while after my waking world move to reconnect with many of the dream world denizens who had kept faith that I would be able to escape the circumstances that kept threatening to drown me.

But here I am, floating in the waters of their curated garden again, gently entangled with the plants they tenderly care for, and feeling the current of the river under us all sweep down my back and my legs.

I have missed this place.

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Completing the Assignment

I had been here before as the waking years have passed. Several times. And each time I have been here, the formerly stately home and grand expanse of yards surrounding it had fallen further and further into decay. This used to be a grand mansion with many wings. Now only the central section of the building remains standing, and even that is a hollow shell of what it used to be as everything wood has either been salvaged, burned, or decayed.

There is a spirit here. Cantankerous. Unwelcoming. Spiteful. When I first dreamt of this place, he chased me away threatening to inflict all sorts of waking world abuse on me. At that first encounter, I didn’t know how much he was bluffing and how necessary it was for me to counter him. I fled an intact fortress and was chased through the trees by the echoes of his mocking laughter.

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A Prayer Couldn’t Hurt

As 2019 comes to a close, so does my inventory of tools, talismans, and tchotchkes that I have in my stockpile for the year. Quite a few of them wound up being acquired and/or kept for the wrong reasons and were properly disposed of. This left me with few tools for “immediate” work.

Like an unopened bottle of Florida Water that I had completely forgotten about until I found it during the Great Clean Out. Sitting next to it was a small cobalt blue glass bottle fitting with a spray pump. Both were purchased for separate reasons. Both had been forgotten about for the year.

Both were put back in the cabinet. Florida Water was something that I had been told by many people that a wooish person should have on hand, and should I ever get to making that apotropaic spray (once I find the recipe) than I’ll have the bottle at the ready. Right?

And then suddenly, I needed both.

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A New Directive

The card stated that it was good for one free sample, but it was very vague about what substance would be sampled. Judging from the overwhelming use of the color green on the advertisement, I had a good idea of what the makeup of the sample would be, but no idea what form the sample would take.

I walked into the shop with the card in hand. Instead of a bell, analog or digital, a bright flash surprised me as my picture was taken. Behind the counter, a large screen showed my ingenue expression as a second screen beside it declared that I was permitted to exchange money for goods at this fine establishment.

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Dream Journal: 2019-05-19.01

“Hello, Weaver.”

I had not heard them approach from the night’s darkness. It was only after they spoke that I heard the sounds of their movements. As I turned to face them, I reached into my satchel out of instinct to grab something, anything, that I might be able to use to defend myself from the type of spirit that was now just two bodies’ length away from me.

As if I could defend myself from a djinn.

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Dream Journal: 2019-05-12.01

“Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” The question pulled my attention to the attendant placing themselves in my field of view. I should be concerned that the attendant wore a white featureless mask over their face. I should be more concerned when I realized that wasn’t a mask at all, but that their bone ceramic face had no features. I would have been at least, if I was awake.

Instead, I was thankful for their intrusion as I gained lucidity. I don’t know where my thoughts were headed before they discreetly touched my hand, but now my thoughts were reunited with my awareness and I felt safe and comfortable.

“Ah, no, thank you.” Their hooded robe gleamed brilliantly in crimson red as I took their hand. The more attention I gave the attendant, the more the attendant stood out from the shadows. I clasped their hand in gratitude for the assistance even though I knew the attendant had not done anything special or unique from their duties. “But you can catch me up to what’s happening now. I think I missed an instruction.”

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A Rock and a Hard Place

The “chorus” of angels that accompany the responsibility of the overcoat are comprised of what many would call “the usual suspects”, except with one substitution. Not being versed in angelic lore, I had no way to vet the change and determine if it was within the expected bounds of this work or was a marker that I was being deceived greater than I ever had been before.

(As if there were “expected bounds” to this work in the first place!)

I had turned over the idea in my head and poked at a few websites but ultimately determined that the only way this chorus of angels was going to prove itself would be by demonstrating that proof the hard way.

So when I went to bed last night with my head full of thoughts about the chorus, I wasn’t disturbed by the circling thoughts. Having my sleep continually interrupted with the name of the angel that stepped up rolling around my mind, annoyed the hell out of me instead.

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