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”
The way my angelus aspect stood behind my seated form mirrored the way the black armored angel stood behind [the Bow-Wielder]. I held the wood beaded rosary I had restrung. She held a shiny black beaded rosary similar to the one I had sent away.
“Years ago, you said I was a terrible Christian, and that I had to make a choice between devotion and survival. I chose survival, and with that choice, completed my apostasy.”
She answered with a silent nod as her soft and tender smirk mocked me.
“I’ve been chasing your ass ever since.” Continue reading “Courage, Trust, and Openness”
The clouds looked brushed across the morning sky as if by a great hand with greater sweeps. I thought nothing of them as I merged onto the freeway on my way to work.
An idle brain does idle things, and clouds were made for wishes anyway, so no wonder I started to see patterns in the streaks of water vapor so far up in the sky.
No wonder then that my response to seeing an angel dominating the sky before me was, “Sure. Why not?” Continue reading “Spirit Journal: 2017-05-05.01”
Angel. Their appearance hit softly against my senses. Just hard enough for me to identify them, just soft enough for me to be aware I was not in conflict with them. I flinched anyway. Continue reading “Path of Daleth: Epilogue”