new post, who dis
Mind you this, watch the weather change, and continue to do this until it halts.
Below is a work of fiction as much as it is a very real work of illuminatory dream analysis. I discuss elements of a recurring dream framework of which I have deciphered most recently. I am experiencing the archetypal structure of a warrior's descent towards the holy grail. I am an uninitiated warrior descending upon initiation.
As of late I have been having an ongoing series of dreams which take place within the childhood home of my father. The home is always under attack, I am always alone, and I always sustain serious bodily injuries. Mid way through the dream I escape the fighting and hide in the attic. I find a room where a door sits at the bottom of a massive pile of old magazines and antiques. When I open this door, I wake up.
Thisbogisthickandeasytogetlostincauseyoureastupidbeliigerantfucker,ihopeitsucksyoudown
I am always in the castle of my childhood, in the midst of a violent battle against my enemies. There are no guns, this battle is medivaL, the weapons are of fisticuffs, blades, and wrought iron. I take massive damage in this fight. I am cut open and ripped to shreds by my enemies more often than I am immediately victorious. They are too strong, but I am able to eat the damage just enough to not suffer defeat and true immobility. In the midst of battle, I steal away to heal, or at least to at minimum, avoid an all consuming annihilation.
Thisbogisthickandeasytogetlostincauseyoureastupidbeliigerantfucker,ihopeitsucksyoudown
Wandering, I wander into where I know where the King keeps his personal armory. He does so in his recesses of his bedchamber. I find myself in the King's private chambers, where He has hidden passages into the guts of His castle, the internal organs of His kingdom. My original intent upon seeking the King’s private quarters was not that of the castle guts, but that of a better offense and defense in my fight against my adversaries. Forgoing my desire for better armaments, I steal myself away into these guts of the castle. I climb into the walls, into the ceilings, and witness that which is hidden above all passageways. I see my enemies wandering around, menacingly meandering in search of my wounded vessel. They want to kill me, and they want to do so as violently as inhumanly possible.
mywarningmeantnothingyouredancinginquicksand
My battle wounds are always miraculously healed as I move further from the battle, and escape inwardly into the King’s castle. I initially run from battle to recoup, to find new weapons with which to better defeat my enemies, but as I venture into the walls of the castle, I find that battle is no longer that of my concern, and the inward illumination of what's within the castle becomes paramount to my exploration. Moving further from the war, from the battle in the castle, I find myself opening doors above doors, traversing walls within walls. I stumble into the guts of the castle further and further, until I am in its heart.
WHYDONTYOUWATCHWHEREYOUREWANDERINGWHYDONTYOUWATCHWHEREYOURSSTUMBLINTHISBOGISTHICKANDEASYTOGETLOSTINBECAUSEYOUREADUMBASSBELIGERANTFUCKER
Within the castle's heart, I see piles upon piles of treasure. Gold stacked upon gold and gems upon gems, the heart of the castle is rich in treasure, rich beyond human comprehension. The dragon guardian of the castle is busy at war, and not presently home upon which he makes his bed on treasure. Overlooking the mountain of treasure, I see a door, a door of paramount depiction. I know what's beyond the door is the end of initiation, and the next step that must be accomplished in battle. I can hear the rattling of my enemies weapons in the distance, their violence bellowing out from within their hate filled bellies.
Whydontyougetoutwhileyoucan
I motion forward towards the door, gazing upon its intricate series of locks that I have no wherewithal or fathomable way to unlock. The door does not require ME to unlock it, it simply requires ME to just stumble upon it, pure of heart, and in search of something far beyond material riches. My spirit is the key that unlocks the door within the stronghold's heart. I am the key, but He is the vessel through which I am able to unlock it with no knowledge.
Twiceasclearasheaventwiceasloudasreason
The door swings upon before me, and within it is an abyss, a darkness that descends as far down as hell, and as high as heaven. When I peer into the door I fall as far down as I fall up, and then I am woken up.
I have learned from these series of dreams, of which most recently occurred this past night. The only light that can provide visibility to the upwardly downward abyss is that of personal illumination. Hear me when I say this, you, you cunning devil you, I am a king, in search of the capitalization of which to become King, but that I serve the only King of Kings recognizable upon this realm. King Arthur has someone he answers to, and it is not another king, but the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords.
The philosopher's stone is where excalibur is contained, and only excalibur can defeat all that which opposes the earthly Kings. Only a young lower case king can pull excalibur from the philosopher's stone.
Wisdom is knowing the greatest weapon mankind has ever known, is an imaginary sword that's power is not in the material, but of the immaterial. Excalibur's strength lies solely within the tongue, a sword that the bible unveils well, but only is found in mythos. Locked text leads to locked text. An uninitiated initiate is a dangerous fellow indeed. The song told me to watch where I’m stumbling, that I am knee deep in a thick and dense bog, and I am falling in. You’ve warned of these ventures before, but I paid no mind, and will continue to do so. Let the heart guide you not only in life, but within dreams. Battles can be won that seemingly have no path to victory.
I have not had an exercise in writing for some time, and this serves as an exercise.
It was daylight when you woke up in your ditch
You looked up at your sky then
That made blue be your color, you had your knife there with you too
When you stood up there was goo all over your clothes
Your hands were sticky
You wiped them on your grass, so now your color was green
Oh Lord, why did everything always have to keep changing like this
You were already getting nervous again
Your head hurt and it rang when you stood up
Your head was almost empty
It always hurt you when you woke up like this
You crawled up out of your ditch onto your gravel road and began to walk
Waiting for the rest of your mind to come back to you
You can see the car parked far down the road and you walked toward it
If God is our Father, you thought, then Satan must be our cousin
Why didn't anyone else understand these important things?
You got to your car and tried all the doors
They were locked. it was a red car and it was new
There was an expensive leather camera case laying on the seat
Out across your field, you could see two tiny people walking by your woods
You began to walk towards them
Now red was your color and, of course
Those little people out there were yours too" - Reverend Jimmy
hold your light, eleven lead me through each gentle step, by step, inch by loaded memory. 11 and she was gone, 11 is when we waved goodbye, 11 is standing still, waiting for me to free him by....
Este pantano es grueso
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