7/26/2024 –
These guys in these modernized hot rod versions of classic boxy mustangs (or modern day Challengers) with slick customized paint jobs roll into this ghost town in the middle of the desert. Their friend is just hanging out there by himself in the middle of a dusty street and the dudes are calling him back into action.
“It’s time to go play some pool my man.”
They’re telling him. He seems slightly reluctant but also feels like he could get into shooting some pool again. There’s a competition afoot and I feel like he’s the best.
In the next sitch my wife is telling me about this kind of trendy thrift store up on Capitol Hill called Last Rack. It was a cool spot but the issue is that it collapsed. Not economically either. A scene pops into my head where all the metal racks simply crumble to the floor in unison. That’s about it but last rack has a double meaning in pool. Thrift stores certainly did used to be a lot fucking cooler back in the day too. That’s for sure.
Now a vision of a can of Gerber baby food and a voice in my head that declares:
“If we can’t privatize that, what’s even the point.”
Yikes. The similarities between business articles calling for population growth and religious nutjobs passing laws to accomplish exactly that are alarmingly similar. Why am I the only one that ever seems to point this out?
Later a short dream. I’m skateboarding down a paved path by the beach on a sunny day when I veer off to the left and accidentally run into this tan shirtless guy with long blonde hair who was also skating on the sidewalk. I massively apologize like:
“Man, I am so sorry. 100% my fault. I am terrible at skateboarding. Sorry again.”
No one’s hurt and it’s no big deal so I keep skating on and eventually am accosted by this waitress lady who seems to be serving drinks at a beachside bar. She’s staring at the TV with her mouth agape and I’m like:
“Jesus. Yet another mass shooting?”
It’s hard not to be far too numb to this shit at this point but now there’s a minor car crash on the beach and I’m for whatever reason riding with the people in the ambulance to the hospital. Except that I accidentally and awkwardly knock into this person strapped down to a gurney. Again, it’s no big deal and now I have my shirt off and the person I bumped into is almost affectionately cuddle placing her head on my stomach, which I find genuinely strange.
The next thing I know I’m at what’s apparently this dream seminar thing that I’m leading and I have my shirt off.
“Is it weird that I have my shirt off around these people? Nah. I do these things around these same people shirtless all the time.”
I think to myself as I lean down to pick up these yellow post it notes from the floor, each with one word written on it in.
All right, genuinely not the most interesting night of dreaming by my own admission but the one thing I’m not mentioning is the image of the suffering turtle, which is a sorcerous thing I’ve been riffing on for a while that arose from a mushroom trip in Golden Gardens (where there’s a turtle sanctuary) years before I even moved to the neighborhood. This is a reference to the basic slow and steady wins the race philosophy which is particularly pertinent for a guy who isn’t entirely able bodied.
Wasn’t even going to mention this but as I’m contemplating it the following morning over my breakfast my wife sits down and starts talking about, you guessed it: the parable of the tortoise and the hare. Why? Because on her morning run there was another woman who was way faster than her but kept stopping after running out of gas so my wife ended up taking her eventually.
The fact that she brought up the parable of the tortoise and the hare at the exact second I was thinking about the sorcery I have associated with it because of a vision I had the night before was genuinely jarring. Say the line man: even though I’m incredibly used to this sort of shit at this point in my life.
7/27/2024 –
I know for a while it’s the typical thing where I’m trying to get out of an airport but I remember little of this but I recall the next sitch a little better though. Here I’m traversing a future Belltown area of the city that’s been turned to rubble. We seem to be scanning through the ruins of the former city in a group of no one else I recognize other than my late grandpa and we seem to be looking for these clues presented on little pieces of paper (second night in a row).
My grandpa finds one and starts heading towards it. I’m sort of worried about his mobility and it’s like he senses this and runs over to grab the little shred of paper no problem. This is incredibly hard to explain but the way he does it is so flippant and defiant that I instantly know the point to this scenario. My late granddad was kind of an alpha male type hard ass and I got that from him, which I’m sort of conflicted about at times if I’m being honest. These are somehow the exact thoughts that are going through my mind as he’s swiping up psychic clues in the rubble of Seattle.
The next thing I recall it’s the family wedding scenario, yet again. It’s in our old pad right outside of Youngstown and I’m in the upstairs back room when I hear my wife freaking out. I think something horrible has happened but when I go downstairs to check it out, she’s freaking out about me. Something about how I didn’t dress up nice enough and I’m rolling my eyes because I’m pretty sure she picked out my suit.
So we go outside to discuss it and the next thing I know we’re having sex. Yes. This all seems accurate. Living with me sort of drives my wife crazy at times but then there’s that alpha male asshole part of me that comes from my grandpa. That’s why she loves me. It reminds her of her grandpa. She has essentially told me this herself in slightly differing terms. If I’m being honest, I was very meh on this night of dreaming in general but on the other hand, I just got done watching a sci fi show called Night Sky that is largely a character study of the ups and downs of the relationship between an older couple that’s been together forever (recommended although I wish there was a second season). So you know, I get the reference far out spirit bros.
7/28/2024 –
An image of a cascading chain of the “me in a slick black suit” entity I summoned back in 2010. It’s essentially the entity daisy chained together, cascading from the heavens.
This is all very much a reference to an episode of the Our Undoing podcast about the shroud man entity the late Jeff Ritzmann used to encounter and honestly, it’d take forever to explain the metaphor, although it’s definitely referencing something new I learned about the encounter while listening to that podcast. It’s then further explained to me that this character is a:
“Toke and then toke!”
Kind of guy and I mean yeah, I absolutely think weed has a decent amount to do with people like Grant Morrison and myself have summoned “aliens” and yet it had absolutely nothing to do with Jeff’s encounters. Maybe that’s why we’re still alive honestly. I was really leaning into the auditory weed sorcery on the previous day too.
Anywho, I’m also again reminded that what I do is quite dangerous and given very specific instructions as to what I’m allowed to do as far as promoting my stuff at this point. OK then.
Later another message about how whatever you want to call magick has to be rescued from the UK. With this I’m now shown a scene of a beach with all these phantom black pillar entities almost phased into it, in the background. Very similar to the black pillar entities I saw in the distance when searching for that woman’s ancestral land a week or so back, which I absolutely associated with basic colonialism. I’m then told that what’s going on with the occult in the UK is:
“Tragically broken.”
Which was always sort of my take too. How it would be any better in America though? I, uhhh…
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