I sat down to further pull apart resurfacing memories and feelings. I looked down at my hands in my lap then looked up to see I wasn’t in my room anymore. [My Bow-Wielder aspect] sat across from me, holding my rosary in one hand and my surviving bible in the other. The Angel of the Lost Crucifix stood guard over her.
“I need another name for that bugger lurking over you.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-04-10.01”
Expanding this jerky high-points outline into a full detailed rendering of the dream is going to take more time than I have to spare. I did not want to make this public, but the dream would not leave me until it was not only recorded, but exposed to the public. I do not know what is here for you to gain, dear reader. I do know I will answer any questions that may arise very carefully, because there are things here I do not have the right to elucidate on further. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-04-09.01”
I was in the Anglican church again. Neutral ground between me and El as our drama had unfurled in a definitively American context. He manifested as a source of brilliant golden white light with no edges. I turned away to face the door not in fear, but in respect to the master of the house I was in.
But I did not leave. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-04-06.01”
I understand now that neither Will nor Knowledge will get me past the flames. The answer is Desire and the lust must be for Union.
If I give up, nothing really changes. This is a Bastard Path anyway and none of this is “real”.
If I persist, if I ascend the Holy Mountain past that point, I will be altered yet again, and by a process that terrifies me.
I haven’t decided yet.
I found myself standing before at a small dinner table with only a setting for one placed despite the two chairs. I had been hoping for an audience with Great Aunt Mabel™, so I took the chair opposite the diner. Perhaps I will serve her tonight or help assist as a great-grandniece would be expected to in her era. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-03-22.01”
I froze when I realized which trees were in front of me. I did not remember how I got here. Again. Only that I had closed my eyes in my room, and opened them in the grove. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-03-12.01”
“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”
Inspired by the person(s) going through my archives, here’s a UI update for ya. The “Write Keri” page has been returned to use, now with extra spam-fighting goodness behind it. An email and/or website entry is not required unless you want me to contact you privately. Any emails entered in this form will be used only for said contact. The RSS link has not changed, so feel free to use your favorite RSS reader to read from a safe distance.
The Tumblr and Twitter links have also been updated to the handles I am currently using, and will likely continue using because dammit, it just fits me.
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”