Many years ago, I worked in a train yard. One night during my probationary period, I was tested in what was supposed to be just a matter of stubborn will. I had to pick up a crew from this train over there and be given conflicting directions by the conductor and engineer to see how I responded.
To get to this train, I had to cross the “main line”, the railroad artery that all trains had to run on to pass through the yard, including a certain passenger train. To dodge the keyword triggered bots and scrapers, we’ll call it “AlwaysLate”.
Of course, I didn’t know I was being tested. Or I would have been even more confrontational than I was. The conductor told me to hurry up and take the crew back over the tracks to return to the yard office, even though the night’s AlwaysLate was nearby and closing in. The engineer told me to wait until AlwaysLate passed. A polite argument ensued, that I ended by telling the conductor that I would take the Safe course of action, as suggested by the engineer, and wait for AlwaysLate to pass before attempting to cross. Report me for insubordination, I dared, I wasn’t moving until the other train had come and gone. Continue reading “Just One Lie”
“Leilah Publications” posted this post and comment last night on Facebook. I still had Ravenwoman in the forefront of my thoughts, and the mess of contradictions she had presented. His words pierced the darkness she left behind.
During ordeals of psychological, physiological, and spiritual fitness, the soul finds itself with nothing, utterly stripped and naked; it can do nothing because it is stripped of all manner of power sitting in its own infinitude of nothingness. This powerlessness felt by the initiate in his conjuring at once deprives and transcends the senses.
The more intimate these experiences are, they grow supersensible to the point of mystic silence imposed upon the senses, as the soul soon feels placed in a vast and profound solitude; this is often symbolized by oceans or deserts in the writings of Illuminati Hermits. Many Adepts soon successfully pass these ordeals and find themselves living in actual desert settings or rural areas. In this abyss of true love and wisdom the soul gestates, awaiting rebirth by drinking from the well-springs of agapae.
“… by the initiate in his conjuring …”
I read that to mean the initiate being conjured from Here to There involuntarily. Suddenly, Ravenwoman makes a little more sense.
I had fallen asleep with my headphones on. Intentionally. I had trouble falling asleep lately and using music as a backdrop for light meditation was very helpful in downshifting my mental gears. The plan was to focus on the music until I had gotten my wandering thoughts into a single force of will, then turning off the music and turning over to go to sleep.
We all know what happens to the best laid plans, now don’t we. Continue reading “Dream: Ravenwoman”
Cleaning out some unnecessary files, I came across a dream archive I had posted at a forum a few years back. When my participation on the forum went south, I made a backup of the posts and filed them away.
Because the writeups have been posted to their original dates, they will not show up in the RSS feed. So, if you’re curious, you can see the new old stuff following the links below
There are a few others that didn’t get (re)posted. Most of those held back were verbal masturbation. One in particular involved “non-consensual sex acts”. Almost two years after dreaming it, and just reading it and remembering the scenes sent such waves of disgust that I almost vomited at the table. Some who have read it (by their request) tell me I am over-reacting. For some reason, I can’t bear to delete the writeup. So, I’ll leave it up to you. Drop me a line if you’re curious about “Nothing Good”, but I will not post it in public.
Of course, in all my searching, I still didn’t find the specific writeup I was looking for. If you saw my tweets this morning, you may have caught reference to “Ravenwoman”. She’s appeared before, but without the feathers. I was hoping to compare the changes over time.
Oh well, since I can’t find the past, I’d better post this and get busy with the present.
Just a lot of little things that would probably be more suited for a tumblr account, if I had a tumblr account, than for the loquaciousness a full blog encourages.
No, I’m not making a tumblr account. That’s what the “Idling” category is for. Continue reading “Idling: Late Night Musings”
State of the art, immersive neural interface. How immersive? Instead of watching a computer screen, the game used a neural link to place the player into the game. My character was controlled the same way my body was. Will. Run into a wall, my nose or knee feels bruised depending on what body part hit the wall first. Throw a spell and feel the tingle of magic in my hand. Get hit by a weapon and wince from the sensation of something hard pushing into me.
Visually and audibly, the immersion was near complete. There was enough of a tactile sensation to interact with the world. Smell and taste, however, was absent. But that was okay, this was enough.
You lamers can keep what’s left of Azeroth, with your overused sprites. The spiders in this game differed more than just size and color.
(Too bad it was only a dream.) Continue reading “Dream: It’s Only A Game”
Whoa, where did all you readers come from? I guess I’m going to have to write that “About Me” page after all. Eventually. Some day. It could happen, I guess.
I’ve noted y’all “organic” new readers are butting your browsers against the locked “Magic Diary” posts. Here’s the key reason why they are locked. Bots suck. There are certain things that while I have no compunction sharing with random strangers on the Internet, I do not want them to be slurped up by scrapers and what-not. So, password lock.
Here’s how to unlock them and get the password: Drop me a line and ask for it. I can be found on Twitter: @BandedNagini, and on Facebook: kerian.nox. If you use neither service, leave me a comment here (your email address will not be publicly viewable) and I’ll email it to you. Do note you do not have to register with the site, nor use OpenID to login. Just make sure you use a valid email address or obviously I can’t send the password to you.
I just ask that the password is not thrown into the wild. I’m picky that way.
Comments, feedback, suggestions, directives to go jump into the nearest body of water, et al., are all welcome. I’m learning as I go, so I’m
desperate eager for Other People’s Perspective.
So. Um. ~kicks pebble~ Okay, that’s it!
The clouds are scattered like popcorn for the sylphs to toss around and play with. In their joy, idle breezes are left in their wake. The air teases with my wet afro as I drive down the country road with the top down in my shiny new convertible.
The road dust shies away from the sparkling Candy Apple Red that radiates from the car in the dancing sunlight. It’s a good day, a lovely day. My three-year-old daughter is buckled in the front passenger seat, singing a nonsense three-year-old song and clapping along with unusual rhythm.
It’s a good day. Continue reading “Dream: Candy Apple Red”
These two dreams occurred the morning of April 13, and April 14. Short in duration and description, I really didn’t think them worthy of being written up here. Going through my notes, however, has nudged me into documenting them in a more formal manner.
“It’s the little things, that get you.” It’s the little things, that hide the greatest of clues, I’ve noted. Continue reading “Dreams: Restlessness (2 for 1)”