Prose: Full Moon in Pisces, a fading photo

I followed the footsteps of the camels.
Trod carefully in the midst of nowhere.
She walked beside.
I held her harp stringed with arrows.
Her language was without vain intellect.
Her words watered within.
She led me away from the midnight river.
Twixt the towers, the mountains, and the dogs.
The jackal watched with approval.
The numbing rain washed away my brilliant garments.
The twisted thorns ripped away my layered sandals.
I walked her world.
Waxing became waning became waxing again.
The midnight river overflows with light.
I rise with the sun.

Dream: "Clean your House"

I walk softly down the stone corridor. My sandals making delicate swishes with each step. I am walking forward in confidence, as I should. I am Queen here. You would not know from my dress however. I wore a shift of light and delicate linen. The cloth is pleated and moves with me. A simple woven belt, with embroidered gold threading at my waist. A menat made with blue beads, green beads, and gold covers my chest and shoulders. I wear simple bracelets of woven papyrus and beads. As I am not at a formal function, I have left most of my gold behind. I do wear a crown. A simple gold band circlet with various beaded tassels hanging from it. Each tassel represents a region or country under my rule.

Attendants are manning various entryways and doors along the hallway. They bow and gesture as I pass. I don’t even nod in acknowledgment. I am Queen here. The corridor is wide, so that four men could stand side by side and still have room around them. The floor is smooth but not polished. The walls are polished to the point of reflection. A few tapestries hang on free standing racks. Many candle pillars. The walls are covered in polished granite and marble. I adore the look of them.

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Dream: Some Vacation!

My best friend has decided I need a vacation. He has, by some way, removed me from the dull urban sprawl I call home and taken me to the midlands of America. We are hanging out with some several times removed cousins of his, at a farm.

It’s harvest day. I am being taught how to drive a combine harvester.

His cousins are a little wary of me. I am an Outsider, after all. But they see there is genuine friendship between me and my BFF, so they tease us and crack jokes about geeks and sunlight.

It’s harvest day. My BFF and I are in the cab of a combine. There is just one long row of wheat left to gather for the season, and I’m told to take over controls. I sputter and decline at first. Not wanting to damage expensive equipment. My BFF teases me about being able to take on computer problems, but balking at the jiggling of a stick. It is a barely concealed sexual challenge that infers I am unable to participate in hetero couplings.

Challenge, accepted.

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Vision: Supplication

A recurring vision:

I see myself before me. She (for my point of view is not at my vision-self) is facing away from me (my point of view). I’m behind her, a few feet, off to the right. She is usually dressed in whatever clothing I was dressed in before the vision overtakes me. She is standing, with her hands held before her chest, palms pressed together. It appears she is praying. Her eyes are open.

I have the sense that she is standing in a sacred place. But where and of what type, I do not see. It could be a forest clearing, a marble floor, a sandy beach. I only know that where she is, has been set apart. (But not necessarily ‘holy’.)

She suddenly shifts her weight. The right leg shifts slightly behind. She starts to descend to one knee. As she drops, her hands rise, separates, and moves apart, usually remains at her shoulders’ level. Sometimes her hands drop down, held away from her body. Her head drops, giving the impression she is bearing a great invisible weight upon her shoulders. Her eyes close, and her face settles into serene bliss.

But she is showing submission. Her body posture declares that she is a servant to the one (those?) she is facing. She is physically speaking that she is a tool available to be used.

Sometimes, I see offerings in her hands. Bowls of flowers. Garlands hanging off her fingers. Bowls of flame. Platters with lit candles. Beer. Bowls with water or with milk. Sometimes the bowls are empty. She holds them out, neither expecting nor asking for them to be filled, but rather showing how empty she has poured herself out for the object of her attention.

The vision ends with her in this supplicant position. I never see to who or to what she is making her supplications. I never see anything other than her. The lighting surrounding us is clear when I look at her, but completely obscures anything other than her. The color changes from each vision to the next. It ranges from pink-tinged white, to a gentle salmon pink, to a delicate baby blue. Never any shade of green. Never any shade of purple or crimson. Never fades to, or from, grey or black.

The total (real) time spent in the vision is maybe 2 seconds. The amount of time that passes within the vision, about 2 minutes.

This is ~not~ normal behaviour for me. Not anymore. During my Christian days, I did a lot of “floor time” in the church’s sanctuary. As a female, there were many (voluntary) moments of visual submission before pastor & congregation. And while each time, I would be bidden to rise and stand, I still had to endure being Less Than Everyone Else because of my gender and (lack of) marital status. If I kneel before anyone now, it is because I won’t stand for anyone’s shit. (Read: I don’t kneel for anyone.)

I have no altar. There is no temple or sacred space that I have access to. I have no idols, totems, or physical representation of the Powers I adore. This vision confuses me. I have tried to take on this position during times of solitude. The anger that overtakes me is scary. When I read the interview of Galina Krasskova by Kenaz Filan, the vision came over me so strongly, I was utterly disoriented when it ended.

The vision now demands to be written, and shared. And so I have. Make of it, what you may.

Dream: In Passing

He blocked the narrow bridge at the height of the arc. The bridge is as wide as his shoulders. The crevasse below as deep as his eyes. I had no other means of reaching my destination. I had to get past him.

I had allowed the horse to choose his own path. Not familiar with this area, I trusted the steed and merely hung on. Through other areas, he had galloped with fierce intent. Running free and true, no obstacle stumbled him. It was obvious, he knew the lands well.

When he approached the bridge, he slowed. I thought for me to dismount, but when I shifted my weight to do so, he danced roughly in displeasure. The bridge looked made of polished glass. No rail to protect the one that slips. With measured steps, the horse stepped onto the bridge and walked hoof by hoof.

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Dream: Following Orders (explicit)

If you were wondering why I labeled this blog as “adult” in nature… keep reading.

About the “explicit” tag. I dream fucked up things. In one dream I killed my parents with a silver sword. (They had become vampires!) I don’t censor my dream writeups. This particular dream deals with murder and small children. It has a fucked up ending. (But no sex, so safe for Americans! *removes tongue from cheek*) And yes, I do dream complete world systems. One more thing, I never became lucid in this dream. I don’t know if to breathe a sigh of relief, or to be greatly concerned about my mental health.

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Dream: Brew & Stones

It’s a lovely summer day. That lazy moment between morning and high day. The river burbles at me, gossiping of all the fish I’m supposed to be catching. The hook was set, the line was cast, and the pole is wedged between rocks along the bank. The bait was nibbled off long ago. I’m too busy laying under a shade tree to notice. I have a few fish already, I don’t need anymore. Let the river have my bait. The river has fed me, let the river feed.

An odd noise pokes at my ear. Thinking it to be another inquisitive fly, I absentmindedly swat at it before turning over. But the noise persists. As the noise gets louder, it becomes clearer. Human voices. Some male, some female. A variety of accents.

Oh hell, I really don’t want to be bothered. It’s such a nice day.

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Dream: Beer & Bikers

Movement. Strange colors approach and quickly pass to fade behind me. Vibration. Loudly felt and loudly heard. Am I asleep? A sharp discordant sound wakes me fully and I swerve quickly into the empty neighboring lane.

Bah! I was falling asleep on my motorbike! Above me the stars twinkled in gossip. On my right, the full moon was already high. I need to pull over.

The freeway stretched out before me, due north, only a few vehicles shared my direction. Slightly more are headed south, but it didn’t matter. I was very tired, and I needed to rest.

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A Memorial Day Telling

Once upon a time, I was an Army servicewoman. I had enlisted shortly before Persian Gulf Conflict #1, but as a female, it was a certainty that I would never see “action”. During the midst of the troubles, I had managed to score some leave time and flew home to see my parents.

I packed very light. The only formal wear I had were my dress greens, which I wore on the flight. They were very glad to see me, and whisked me straight from the airport to dinner at a (then) upscale restaurant. I begged for time to change into different clothes, but they were insistent I wear the uniform. My veteran father was proud to see me in them, so I did my filial duty and wore them proudly for him.

The restaurant was packed that day, with wait times up to 2 hours. Of course, my parents did not make reservations. Perfect time to go home and change, right? I noticed the crowd eying my uniform, and was a bit uneasy about it. I remember my father’s stories of how uniformed servicemen were publicly treated in the 70’s. I heard whispers all around me. “Army”, “woman”, “active”, “one of them”, “do you think”.

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Dream: The Wheel

Think of the Fortune card from the Thoth tarot. See the wheel? See the triangle behind it? See the vivid blue of the card’s background?

My first awareness is movement. I am moving consistently forward and consistently moving to the right. I open my eyes, and see I am sitting on the hub of a large wheel. Perched sidesaddle on the horizontal wheel, I see vividly deep blue in all directions. Flashes of lightning streak randomly. The wheel is gold, with ten spokes connecting the rim to the center hub. There is only the wheel, and myself sitting upon the rim.

I feel like I am moving. But I have no reference to judge my movement by. The wheel could be still, and I would not know the difference.

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