The “chorus” of angels that accompany the responsibility of the overcoat are comprised of what many would call “the usual suspects”, except with one substitution. Not being versed in angelic lore, I had no way to vet the change and determine if it was within the expected bounds of this work or was a marker that I was being deceived greater than I ever had been before.
(As if there were “expected bounds” to this work in the first place!)
I had turned over the idea in my head and poked at a few websites but ultimately determined that the only way this chorus of angels was going to prove itself would be by demonstrating that proof the hard way.
So when I went to bed last night with my head full of thoughts about the chorus, I wasn’t disturbed by the circling thoughts. Having my sleep continually interrupted with the name of the angel that stepped up rolling around my mind, annoyed the hell out of me instead.
Continue reading “A Rock and a Hard Place”
I have continued the morning routine that was set as part of a class I participated in. The routine had formed the backbone of the series of daily summons I had performed in August and continues to be a moment of stillness and preparation for the
bullshit of the day.
The descent into the stillness is usually a stepped process. Calm the body. Still the mind. Let the awareness smooth and then begin the routine via visualization.
The body was calmed. The mind was stilled. The awareness was smoothed and the visualization began with the closing of my physical eyes and the arrival of the subtle disconnection that comes with a light trance.
Continue reading “Altering Expectations”
Seven years and a few months ago, I dreamt of giving up what was a powerful and personal symbol. The bow, sometimes as elaborate and decorated as a role playing game’s prop, sometimes as simple and unremarkable as a wood and string can get, was a weapon my dream self best used against my fears.
And sometimes, against me.
My concern that I was giving up more than a symbol was a valid one, though the beginning of that understanding would take five years to assemble itself. I did not understand why I placed it on that altar at that time. I understand now that the bow was somehow linked with my experiences as a Christian. I had been hurt enough by the devoted followers of a god that rejected me. So I rejected him and the promises that would never, could never, be fulfilled.
It’s not like an apostate could ever keep her end of the bargain, after all.
Continue reading “Acceptance”
I have had many “normal” (read: nonsense) dreams since the Black Armored Angel jumped off the mountain with me. At first I discounted them as mere noise and entertainment because there was no continuity between them, no tells of entities sandboxing me. Until I took notes and compared them all.
Writers of fanfics are familiar with the term “AU”, an acronym for “alternative universe”. An AU allows the writer to explore known characters in situations and environments alternate to the works of canon, the “official setting”, that the characters are a part of. What if two well-known action movie heros were merely two college students claiming the last table in a coffee shop? How would their characters react in such a setting if they kept the same personality traits as known in the movies but had none of the superhero stuff?
What if I were accidentally set adrift in space and the Black Armored Angel was the alien who rescued me? How would we interact without a shared language or cultural symbols? Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-05-27.01”
It’s dark. (It’s always dark.)
The glyph covered rod in my left hand is warm from my grip as I look up into the infinite black sky. (It’s always dark.)
(Saint) George said I needed a control rod, something to hold on to. Not to force my fears to submit to me and yield (which they will never do), but to remind me that no matter how large my fears become, no matter how small I feel before them, I’m still here.
I look down at my left hand. The rosary is wrapped loosely around my hand. Its crucifix dangles between my fingers. It is black and shiny and plain. Like the armor I am waiting to see.
I hear something, but I am not sure if it is an actual noise or a wish too strongly made. I take a step towards it, kicking pebbles into movement as my stance slips and I realize I’m standing on a rocky slope. It is a place I remember but cannot identify because of the complete lack of stars above me.
(Has it always been this dark?) Continue reading “Dream Journal: Communion”
On April 18, JLR Kruse asked me:
“Also, how do you feel now afterwards? Do you still feel afraid of the black armored angel?”
And I answered what was a true answer at the time of:
“To be honest, I don’t know. There is the memory of fear and the anticipation that it will occur again because “logic” tells me that such a deep-seated fear will not be shifted literally overnight. But there is also the absence of anxiety now and an intense level of ambivalence about encountering them again. I guess I won’t know until they are present and I observe my reaction.”
But my answer has changed since then.
Continue reading “The Absence of Fear”
In keeping with previous instructions, I had to up my meditation “game”. Now loathe to spend money on status symbols and unnecessary trinkets after the mindless indulgences of last year, last month’s “impulse” purchase of a well used mala was proving itself worthwhile as it kept my hands busy enough to allow my mind to shed itself of busy-ness.
And yet, somehow even with the assistance of a zafu cushion to stabilize my seating posture, I still fell asleep. I realized I had gone sideways in my morning meditation when I heard the clear voice coming from the space in front of me. Space that I knew was occupied by a large piece of furniture.
“Nice beads.” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-04-15.01”
I had barely closed my eyes when Malphas1 was upon me. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-01-14.01”
I knew I was dreaming. A demonic contagion was spreading throughout the world like an epidemic. Everyone infected by it became blind. I spent a few seconds groaning at the recycled tropes from the 80’s before realizing that despite my awareness, I actually had very little power here.
I only happened to be immune.
One of the infected tried to claw my eyes out. They were screaming that it was my fault this plague had descended upon the world. If only I had submitted to Ziegler and allowed him to take my sight, then the demon using him would have been placated. My refusal to be sacrificed has doomed the world.
This was no longer amusing. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-27.01”
“Move or get out the way!” I did both. I did not know they were going to open the doors so soon, or I would have made sure to have been on the other side of the ship. As such, I was caught by the throng of passengers eager to leave the ship, arrive on land, or both. The flow of people was too much for me to pass through and I had no desire to leave the ship, so I pressed myself to the side as best as I could to wait out the stampede of people.
It wasn’t good enough. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-08-17.01”