Dream Journal: 2017-03-10.01

“I’d love to visit you more often, dearie, but I’m awfully tired and get so thirsty…”

That’s how the conversation with [Great Aunt Mabel™] ended two nights ago. (The name has stuck as a pseudonym for someone very, very, specific.) The carriage came immediately to take her away, but she allowed me the grace of holding her hand to steady her as she was assisted into it. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2017-03-10.01

Dream Journal: 2017-02-23.01

It was a dream. There was a coffeeshop. Late in the day with only a scattering of politely disinterested people. College student crowd but not college student ages. There was a comfy chair. I had snagged it and was relaxing in comfort with working headphones and an intriguing book. Not far away was a small round table. Three guys were clustered around it sitting on small uncomfortable stools. On the table was a small cushion.

On the cushion was a small quartz ball. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2017-02-23.01

Another Knot in the Path

No more excuses. I need to start tying up loose ends before I get caught and strangled by them. I reached out to [Merciful Mother] Mary and asked permission to enter Binah for a proper run across the Path of Daleth that she described as ascending the holy mountain to meet her husband. (She is, and she is not Mary, and there’s a lot that I understand that I am not willing to talk about in public.) I had made a half-hearted attempt the other day, and I deserved the standstill I was brought to.

But because reasons, I understand this is much more important than I understood at first, and if I am going to proceed with other important goals in my life, I needed to complete this one along the way.

I entered her sphere and admitted my intentions. She pointed out the things that were keeping me from taking advantage of my gifts and asked what allowed me the grace to continue. Continue reading Another Knot in the Path

Dream Journal: 2017-02-18.01

My hubris caught up with me and I took a nap this afternoon. I dreamt of an oil well rig being set up in the middle of Fuck You County (some back-ass part of Texas) in an area that the First Nations peoples had warned was No Good™.

The first week of drilling was one broken thing after another. If it was a hose, is burst or got clogged. If it was a pipe or a shaft, it broke. If it was electrical, it fried. Every day some poor soul passed out from heat stroke despite all the legitimately best efforts by the foreman to keep his men safe. The second week was double the first week’s costs.

The Suit (read: upper management) didn’t care about the increasing costs of drilling. He bragged that not only was the rig replaceable, but so were the men, and he didn’t care if it cost them their souls to get the well dug, that well better be dug on time because the projected profits would greatly overcompensate for the financial cost of digging it.

“You willing to bet your soul on that, Sir?” Continue reading Dream Journal: 2017-02-18.01

Dream Journal: 2017-02-17.02

I closed my eyes for five hot seconds and found myself in a conversation with something I could only describe as a shadow. The slip into the audio only vision was so smooth, I did not realize it was happening until it was over.

“Every Catholic family has saints.”

“There’s a generational gap. My parents and my sister were, but then not, and I never was unless you count infant baptism.”

“You have familial saints.”

“I don’t know them. Don’t know their names. Don’t know their history or their relevance.”

“They will teach you new names, and show you personal relevance, and embrace you as you embrace them.”

“I’m apostate.”

“You have faith.”


Dream Journal: 2017-02-17.01

In a long standing tradition of doing one onerous task to distract myself from another onerous task, I actually attempted to climb that damn holy mountain (Path of Daleth).

So a funny thing happened on the way to enlightenment…

All I remember is being curled up in a fetal position on the flooded “ground” of Binah, my head in Mary’s lap, as I cried for ages unable to recover any semblance of “level headed maturity”.

It was a good cry.

I think I needed that. Because reasons.

Dream Journal: 2017-02-15.01

I see the rosary first. The loop is entwined between fingers and over hands clasped together in a solid grip as if for prayer. The pendant of the crucifix hangs over the knuckles in a way that strikes me at first as an apotropaic amulet, then as a visual censer, and lastly as a key to a lock that disturbs me with its implication.

So I look at the person holding it instead. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2017-02-15.01