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I've kept a dream diary for a year now, on and off, and it now seems that my dream self is getting more and more powerful (admittedly at the minute that's like 'Hans Molman getting more and more sexy', but it's a start...)
A few nights ago, I had a dream where my pet cat, Pixie, was being menaced by two strange, fox-like creatures. I'd been doing a lot of chakra exercises during the past couple of weeks (mainly to keep myself focused on magic while not doing any major magical work per se), so the most logical approach, it seemed to my dream-self, was to zap the foxes with some throat-chakra energy, in the form of a Banshee-style sonic scream attack. This worked: the foxes turned into freaky energy vortices and disappeared. It was cool.
Then. Just last night, I had a dream which, among other things, featured Promethea, Jim Morrison, Dante's Wood of Suicides, Paris, and me getting stoned in the dream and waking up stoned in real life...The most impressive magical bit, tho', occurred early on in the dream. I'm on the 'phone to some goit, and for some reason I'm trying to get him to put me thru to Yemaya, a santeria god-form I often work with. This bloke kept acting stupid, but in an obviously deliberate way, and I got really pissed off. Realising it was a dream (why would I try to phone a voodoo deity in real-life?) I was about to wake up, but I forced myself back to sleep, went lucid, and visited the guy's house with a crowbar and a torture kit, forcing him to reveal Yemaya's whereabouts to me. Then I went to see her and we hung out for a while - I don't remember either of us saying much. She wore this blue-and-white sarong thing, and looked like Angela Basset.
Which was nice... |
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