Late to the game? Catch up here.
“I’m not the devil,” the man stressed before taking a sip of his beer before continuing, “I’m a devil and I hear you’re a shaman.”
I guessed I was in a bar. I hadn’t looked around yet, but judging from what I already experienced, bar seemed a safe bet.
This would be pretty weird if it happened while I was awake, but was pretty standard for double dreams. People are always acting like this in double and triple dreams. I’ve never met anyone who’s been in a quadruple dream.
“C’mon now,” I said as I raised my palm and pushed him back with my eyes.
“Sorry, didn’t see your light.”
“Easy mistake, I tend to keep it covered or dimmed,” I said turning to leave.
“Understood, nice knowing ya.”
“Likewise,” I replied while going through the door.
Once through the doorway I found myself sitting across from an old man, obviously a widower judging from the decor. I was wearing a black suit, a red shirt with a black tie and a two-toned hat. One of the tones was black and the other was red. We were smoking pipes in silence, one of my favorite things to do on a cool fall evening, which a glance out the window confirmed it was.
After some time two little kids came through the door without guns. One was dressed like a witch but with a long gray beard and the other was in a wizard’s robe. Must be Halloween. They were holding a broom and staff respectfully. The items looked familiar for some reason unknown to me. Recognizing stuff you don’t isn’t anything that usually needs to be worried about in a dream. No telling where one’s mind pulls dream imagery from. It’s not a question I ponder much.
The kids seemed nice enough but it was too late for them to be coming in and they didn’t have any candy. Candy-less kids on a day like this is dirty pool, even for dreams. They were covered in what I intuitively knew to be monster guts. We had a pleasant enough conversation, I suppose. I decided to leave a few minutes after I was referred to as “Grand Magus” by the old man. I knew what one was, that I was one, and why I was dressed in the manner I was. I wasn’t happy about it though.
The imagery was indicative of some of the parts of my Self that I don’t put forward very often. The reasons I choose to put a bushel over my light, so to speak, are mine to keep. Exerting spiritual or magickial energy can be, and usually is, a nuisance wrapped in a hindrance. I prefer to remain invisible to the unseen universe as much as I possibly can. Easier for everyone that way.
Continue reading “T.J. Washington In “B Is For Basement” Pt. 3″