This morning I had one of those dreams where you find yourself looking through an incredible authoritative book. One of the illustrations in it was of a buffalo charging through the air. Out from his head was projecting forward a wooden shaft, a spear. It’s not that he’d been speared in the head, but that the spear was issuing forth from him. The book told me that the name of this spear was “Incaralong” or “Incaralung” and that it was something called a “flute-spear”, meaning that when a warrior threw such a spear through the air, it would whistle and play music upon the wind.

A quick quasi-Jungian run down of this imagery might look like this:

1. Buffalo - animal nature, majesty
2. Spear issuing forth from the head - insight or intuition
3. Flute/Spear - fusion of creative and destructive principles

Some time before that, I had another dream where I was in the house of an old woman. “Old woman” isn’t accurately descriptive though. She was hideous, shriveled, had strange growths and marks on her face and was mean. I think a more mythically potent word might be “hag.” Sort of reminds me of that one in Spirited Away. In any event, I sat in her parlor, and she came in to speak with me. As she did so, she dimmed the light so that I wouldn’t be able to look upon her face, but she could look at me. I don’t remember why I’d gone there - perhaps to seek her help. She was not forthcoming though, but I persisted. At some point, I found myself in another room, and her daughter timidly approached me. She was basically the young version of the hag, but still beautiful with youth. I spoke with her and she handed me a pile of neatly folded laundry. I think it consisted of some towels and a fresh pair of clothes. With this, the power of the hag was broken and her assistance granted, and I got to look upon her face, wrinkled and marked as it was.

Some very mythological shit.