Not much to talk about dream-wise. Just some fruitless argument/bitching with a person about why I don’t divine with runes despite using them for magic, and why I won’t touch anything “chakra” with any length of pole even though “real diviners can align chakras and see auras”.
Needless to say, the conversation devolved into a shouting match really quick.
When the person brought up one of my old posts where I made references to Kundalini and stuff, I pointed out I stopped that once I learned more about it, and how the information I had originally learned was corrupted and bastardized having come via colonial bullshit means. Like the word “karma”, a lot of that shit doesn’t mean what the Western world think it means.
There’s some shit I won’t talk about because it is very unverified personal gnosis, and then there’s some shit I’ve stopped talking about because I was wrong as fuck and quite out of turn to speak of it. But to remove those errant posts from my main now would be whitewashing my history and progression.
The whole affair reminded me of why I nuked my Tumblr archive, but left my main blog intact. A combination of unsanctioned and selective necromancy was being used to justify bullshit in other corners of Tumblr and I had fucking enough of it. Them bitches want to say since ThreeDifferentWays said it, it must be okay, and skipping over the posts where I admitted I was in error. Not a single bastard would say anything in my inbox, but instead light that shit up out of my sight. Fucking cowards.
The fucktard in the dream kept throwing runestones at me, telling me I didn’t deserve to know the runes if I wasn’t going to use them properly. I picked up the Hagalaz rune, shattered the flimsy disc between finger and thumb, and handed the pieces back to her as I asked her to tell me what they spoke to her. She was angry that now she’ll have to buy another set to have matching stones.
I shook my head. I picked up all the other 23 Elder Futhark discs. (I left the spare on the ground because fuck Blum.) There was nothing magical or special about them. As she screeched at me about destroying her property (that she threw at me, one by one), I licked a disc. Flour, cornstarch, and Elmers glue. She paid for these?
She threw the two pieces of the Hagalaz disc at me as she yelled for me to keep it. The magic was broken, she said. Even if she glued the pieces back together, it was useless to her. How careless and stupid of me. Et cetera.
I held the broken pieces together properly and muttered some [sounds] under my breath. The Hagalaz symbol flared bright red then electric blue. When the light faded, the Hagalaz disc was intact without even a chip to show it had been damaged. I dumped the 24 runes in her hands. “That’s what I use the runes for. For weal, and for woe, as the circumstances call. Real diviners use the tools available to them if they want to and as they see fit. Auras are not available to me. Neither are chakras. I am forbidden to use the Elder Futhark to divine with. Tarot is my bitch and my public specialty. Whatever crisis of identity you are having about the tools you use and the justifications you have for using them is not my problem. Now, kindly step the fuck off before I take advantage of this dream state and hurt you.”
I turned away and started to make my way out of the semi-wooded area we were in. I heard the discs clattering against each other. I looked back only to see she was actually trying to divine a way to hurt me! I shook my head and left the dream.
I’ve been in a shitty mood all day, and while I keep telling myself it was just a dream, I realize this is a fight I am always having to defend myself in and I am tired of it like fuck.