There are bones under my porch and bees proliferating flowering life in my yard. This morning I dreamt about killing.
I know that makes me sound like a serial killer, but I’m not. Yet. (That’s supposed to warrant a certain amount of awkward laughter from the audience. Ahem… is this thing on?)
In this dream, I was in my “grandfather’s house.” This is a frequent recurring location for my dreams. My grandfather’s house was/is located in Worcester, MA and was the closest thing I have ever had to an “ancestral home” - although it pales in comparison to the gigantic five hundred year old mansion in England my most recent boss’s family still has to this day. In these dreams, the house is *always* totally dark. I don’t know if it’s night time or just dark. It is filled with strange rooms and weird passageways connecting them. In fact, the number of rooms seems endless and completely variable and for the most part the house bears only the most remote resemblance to the actual house of my grandfather.
I think, more than anything, it is my dreamworld’s way of saying that I am in the “place of the ancestors.” Evidently for me, right now that is a rather violent and strange place. It’s difficult to piece together all the details into a concrete narrative, but there were two successive waves of attacks on me and whoever I was with. I find that I am rarely “alone” in my dreams, and I almost always use the pronoun “we” when speaking of them, but I rarely can recall who I was with. I would assume, at this point, that it consists of members of my “soul group” or people with whom I share a “distributed self.” I know through real life and the internet at least 8-10 of them so far very well. We are almost like a group of secret superheroes who can communicate with one another psychically and magically and who lead strangely parallel lives without our knowing it until later.
Anyway, the first assault was by six men dressed in black, who may have broken in through the windows. Sort of like the commandos in the beginning of Brazil who just burst in and take that guy hostage and disappear. I don’t so much remember the details, but we made short work of them to be sure. I distinctly remember firing a hand gun several times, which I have never done in real life (but have no specific aversion to, except of course if aimed at humans). After that, two of my female “cousins” and another man appeared, also with weapons and the intent to kill us. I sorrowfully aimed and killed them, lodging 5 bullets into each of their bodies.
I use the word “cousins” loosely as they only had the faintest glimmers of actual real members of my family, and I suspect they were some kind of spiritual impostors or Deceivers. I also remember climbing out of a window in my underwear (since they surprised us at night) and onto a ledge, and then into another window which lead to a bathroom where my father was on the toilet. I asked him urgently for his gun (which he would NEVER have in real life) and then went upstairs and finished the job. I guess that probably happened first chronologically. But that doesn’t quite matter as much in dreams, does it?
The whole episode calls to mind comments left on my most recent post by Julia about the possibility of a “spiritual attack” having been levelled against me. As loathe as I am to seriously entertain such notions, the dream was quite remarkable and disturbing. Oh, and I nearly forgot: there was some subplot to the dream that one of the “cousins” I had killed had just found out that day that she was pregnant.
Without divulging any specific details, before going to sleep last night I decided to investigate the possibility of whether or not there really was some kind of psychic hit placed on me. Through the avenues open to me, I ritually petitioned for protection and to be shown the Truth. It doesn’t seem to overtly answer the specific question question I verbalized, but these things tend to work by answering the question which is truly in your heart. And in this case, that question was probably something like: was what happened down there “my fault” or was there some kind of outside agency at work here?
Though I tremble on the verge of psychosis by clinging to that explanation too strongly, the dream seems to give me some kind of pointers in that direction - if only on the very mundane level of how my subconscious mind interprets all of this. I tend to see things on a much deeper level than that now, but that’s the mentally “safe” explanation that I can allow myself at the present moment.
Oh - if you’re into this kind of thing, one of the forces I like to visualize and call upon during these sorts of rituals are the angels with flaming swords, the powerful legions of God arrayed with golden flaming chariots whose might hits like a comet when it hits. I have called on them once before under other circumstances and literally had outside correlated results from a third party within twenty minutes as to its effectiveness. Not to be fooled with lightly, obviously. I think you have to naturally be of a certain energy signature to be able to interact with them at all. In any case, don’t tell them I sent you. I don’t want to have to answer for anyone else’s foolhardy dabblings.
“The name Seraphim clearly indicates their ceaseless and eternal revolution about Divine Principles, their heat and keenness, the exuberance of their intense, perpetual, tireless activity, and their elevative and energetic assimilation of those below, kindling them and firing them to their own heat, and wholly purifying them by a burning and all-consuming flame; and by the unhidden, unquenchable, changeless, radiant and enlightening power, dispelling and destroying the shadows of darkness”
I am heading east. I believe I will be stopping in Minneapolis and possibly Chicago on my way to Fenton, MI (and then back to Seattle at the end of this month). I think I have a ride to Minneapolis and a place to stay there. And I think I have a college friend in Chicago who can put me up and put up with me. But if anyone else would like to contribute either: (1) a place to stay for a few days, (2) a ride between points A, B, C and/or D, and (3) cold hard cash for a dirty old roustabout like me, please to be depositing it via PayPal into the box on the upper right corner of this site.
- END -
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14 Comments
Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though.
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near,
Between the woods and frozen lake,
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake,
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep,
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
— Robert Frost
This poem was posted to the door of our room down south by the previous occupant of it. I removed everything else from the door except for that and the “road less traveled” posted next to it.
What in particular made you think to post that, if you don’t mind my asking?
I sometimes have dreams like that. JUST like that. Lost in some dark, familiar place, being confronted with things that look like people I know or think I know, whose illusions only last just long enough to work. They used to remind me of decoy ducks. In those dreams, I would have to face otherworldly creatures taking the form of someone I loved. But they never acted like that person. Or like a person at all. There was a sense of fakeness, hollowness, and the feeling that something bigger, and older, and meaner than me was watching all the while. Like decoy ducks. Passing for passing acquaintances only just long enough to be just too late.
I don’t know what those dreams mean. Probably nothing.
Good luck on the road, Tim. I hope you find quite whatever it is that’s been itching, or give up scratching and searching and just start looking again. Totally saves the ends of your fingers, that.
They mean the Deceivers are afoot and to be wary
had a similar dream the other night - inside & outside of a large house/mansion/building, fleeing from and fighting a group, represented in a way that the individuals were obscured but as a group were cohesive, identifiably “other”
Like you, sometimes I am subjected to (priviledged by) unexpected downloads. As I read this, your most recent post, this poem kept playing in my head. The thing about mystical experiences is processing and finally internalizing them. The esoterically inclined are so anxious for these blessings? True grace is in knowing how to internalize the ineffable without getting caught up in it. PBUY (Peace Be Upon You).
That’s about what I thought. Because your answer the other day was spot on as well with some things I’d been going over in my head but hadn’t said here, I don’t think.
Could you elaborate on that? My next post publishing later tonight deals with Grace. But I’m more interested for the moment with what you meant about internalizing it without getting caught up in it
Shortly after my Father passed away I had a series of dreams where I tried to ignore him and/or explain to him that he was dead to make him go away. I knew this wasn’t my Father coming to me in dreams but I was stuck as a character in the story that had been weaved for me. Somehow I figured out that if I acknowledged him as my Father he would stop bothering me. I did this briefly and it wasn’t enough. Months later I got stuck in a dream, lost in the city for days, until I gave up, found my Father and embraced him with joy. It was a big psychological payoff for me and would keep most people coming back for more but I was very uncomfortable.
Recently I had another series of dreams where this figure tried to gain my confidence. It gave me knowledge that the recent illness of my Mother could become fatal, which is a possibility. Now I am engaged in some sort of dialog because he’s helping me face reality. He’s my Dad right? Then he does a very good job of laying out for me how my Mother was replaced in the hospital. I got rid of him but this idea was deep in my head because I trusted the source.
He came back a few times and I guess I recognized him but each time he convinced me of some little twisted truth before he left and each time he mentally smirked at me a little because I was a sucker.
The psychological and symbolic explanations for these dreams help me a lot because my mind needs something to chew on. I had just realized why a symbol for Saturn (Father/Death/Time) looked the was it does. I wanted to push away knowledge of my Mom’s health. Etc., etc. Paranoia is only good in small doses. However, I know this is also very real and has cast a shadow over my life lately. In dreams I don’t get stuck in houses, I get stuck in the city. I think it’s like being a rat in a maze. I think it’s used to test you and to exhaust you.
Yes, and I think it’s entirely “real” though I don’t use that word in the same way I once did, I guess.
Ok, here goes:
For those who have had mystical experiences one of the most painful discoveries of this gift is accepting the burden of somehow being carved out of the herd . Moving into the realm of these mystical experience, epiphanies and complex experiences and emotions while the struggles of our ordinary life become more and more difficult the further we advance. In some sense flinging the spiritual door wide open invites chaos into our lives. At various times I’ve been overwhelmed, thought I was going crazy, or became utterly fascinated with interpreting and analyzing every nuance of *it*,seeking more and more knowledge, this is a trap. This then becomes our battleground our ego indulgence. Grace is earned when we learn to manage living in both worlds and internalize our experience in such a way that it translates into the mundane and material world as wisdom and generousity of spirit, and love. This is what fills the grail cup, grace.
Absolutely, this is a huge trap and leads to disastrous ego inflation and psychosis in the classical clinical sense and I have been doing my damndest to steer clear of it while still simultaneously being able to “read” these things.
Awesome. That actually helps me a lot to hear someone say it like that. Thanks.
I like the nuance that the Grail and what fills it are two separate stages.
I needed that too. Thanks lady!
I had something like this not too long ago, but where the dream itself was the ’spiritual attack’, and the thing is if I didn’t have that explanation, true or not, the dream would have possibly permanently crushed my spirit. And honestly, I don’t think I (the ‘I’ who dreams and creates the little ego-me) or anyone I willingly associate with would do that to me, but I did know someone who could, and would, so the explanation was certainly valid. In any case, just because you’re paranoid… you know how it goes.
> I like the nuance that the Grail and what fills it are two separate stages.
That’s one of the grail questions (from the High History): (1) what does it serve (2) to whom?
*
I don’t know the many-roomed house. I find myself in woodland looking for something. Of a sudden there is a clearing. In the clearing… well, heck, that’s where reason breaks down.