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”
They brushed away the fog of dreams with their wings to clear the space between us, then backed away and bowed slightly to emphasize their presence here was not to threaten me. They are the first angel other than Wit that I have been face to face to since the fear of them was removed from me. Another time, I would have either already started running (in futility) or braced for assault (and probably started to as well).
But as my vision soaked in their appearance, I considered displaying a show of force just the same as I recognized the facade they wore. Even though I had never seen the movie “Hellboy 2”, I have seen enough clips and stills from it to recognize the movie’s character of “The Angel of Death“. (Though I had to look it up to fully identify the character for this post. And now that I have, I’m chuckling.)
They bowed. “If you were to see me as I am, you will not recognize me. I wear this covering that is prevalent in your culture that you might know what I am and that I mean no harm towards you.” They spoke in a whisper so soft that I had to strain to hear it. Even still, the force contained in that whisper revealed that if they spoke in what others would consider a normal tone, that I would be overcome by it. Continue reading “An Angelic Cosplay”
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”
I am done being afraid.
Yesterday morning, I had the epiphany that as long as I avoided the fear of encountering the black armored angel, then I would continue being terrified of the black armored angel. From our first encounter, they have demonstrated patience, concern, and benevolence. It is I who have ascribed ulterior motives, hostility, and aggression to their countenance.
Enough of this shit. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2018-04-17.01”
“Y’all said this was one of them channeler road shows, like those medium shows, ya said. Y’all said jacque shitte about this being a traveling Christian prophet.”
“We did… we… just didn’t specify which religion was involved. But channelers are channelers, right? It’s all made up anyway!” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-06-30.01”
I see the rosary first. The loop is entwined between fingers and over hands clasped together in a solid grip as if for prayer. The pendant of the crucifix hangs over the knuckles in a way that strikes me at first as an apotropaic amulet, then as a visual censer, and lastly as a key to a lock that disturbs me with its implication.
So I look at the person holding it instead. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2017-02-15.01”
Doing some light reading and coming across multiple references to St. Cyprian again. While I expect to find references with that book and that author, it has been a crescendo of unexpected references this past month to the point where I am about ready to defenestrate the next person, place, or thing, that makes another reference. “That shit is all fine and good”, I mutter, “but I’m fucking apostate. Doesn’t that disqualify me?” Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-12-03.01”
For two nights in a row, I have wrestled with an angel. Shuddering in that classic pose of interlocked hands pushing against each other as the ground is tilled with our feet. I have woken up with strained shoulders and spasming muscles that make me wonder if I have been fitting in my sleep again. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-11-18.01”
Dreamt I was sent to investigate two high ranking men in a Christian church in a small town. The pastor and his right hand man (presumed successor). Both were possessed. Each had something eating away at their spirits and the light of the two men were almost gone. Continue reading “Dream Journal: 2016-07-10.01”