5/25/2023 -
Waking up then falling back asleep again in a dream is always trippy. Always. In this scenario I wake up upstairs in my parent's old house in Ohio. I'm sharing the room with a few unidentified roommates. We're all waking up and getting ready for our day but when I start this process I realize that it's the weekend and I actually have several more hours I could sleep in. None of them are interested in this so I head downstairs to find my old much smaller bedroom. After a few rude interruptions from my step mom I finally get back under and wow.
I'm now watching what was supposedly the biggest action film of the last year and yet I'm living it. I'm going into this action sequence that involves me flying above this neighborhood of high rise condos with my Marvel Falcon-esque arm wings. What's really amazing about this particular sequence though is how they worked in my action dog, who appears to be a slightly thinner short haired version of a German Shepard.
I'm somehow holding him in my arms and flying at the same time before I swoop in to drop him on the sidewalk where he hits the ground running. It's on. The super cool music kicks in and fucking wow. The way I'm screaming through the air and he's kicking ass on the ground level is tits and the hype industrial soundtrack vibes really do help sell the thing. He sets them up, I knock them down. It's like the most amazing video game sequence ever but with feeling. Beyond anything our primitive artforms can currently conjure for sure as it's granting a carefree jolt of pure adrenaline. I know there is never any real danger and I can feel the wind whipping off my skin as I scream through the air while watching my battle pooch go apeshit. Freaking amazing.
Later I'm at my wife and my new pad. This is a place I've visited quite often and I can't say I entirely understand why. It's all white, always in a far more remote area than I live currently, and always has a balcony in the back with some sort of view. In this situation it keeps shifting. First it's this cool but just sort of a common urban landscape comprised of a yard and a few other buildings. Then all of a sudden we're by the water. We have all these guests and they're waiting for these other people to finish their swim. Then they all dive in together as I watch from above. Methinks it looks pretty cold so there's no way I'm joining them.
Eventually a party breaks out. This lasts for a while and the only thing I remember of note is that at one point we take unspecified pills. Then before they kick in a young David Cross shows up and I tell everyone that if the pills suck we can blame this on him because he was the supplier. He kind of jokingly denies this at first and then is all:
"You're totally right, I did get those pills so if they suck it is sort of my fault."
Unfortunately, the dream does not last long enough after this for me to gauge the potential suck-i-tude of the pills.
5/26/2023 -
First I'm spending time with the functional family. In all honesty, they're super duper nice to me and I sort of feel guilty that I'm not more gracious in return. At one point I offer to take out the trash then realize I don't know where I'm supposed to take it. I keep looking around super embarrassed. I've supposedly been here for a while so you'd think I would have done this before.
Not long after they need my help though. Their teenage son has gotten involved in what in their mind is some shady shit but when I show up to assess the situation I'm not so sure. Seems like basic teenage rebellion fare. I don't think he's in any danger and honestly, I get the vibe I sort of agree with the cause he's affiliated with. The saddest part is that I also get the vibe that their concern is at least partially racially motivated. I agree to help where I can though. Maybe there is a risk here that I'm not seeing and if there is I'll do my sorcery thing.
This moves on to a night long quest with my actual astral family in this underground tunnel palace city type situation. The metaphor being fairly clear because as dysfunctional as my regular family was, they simply didn't care about me. My complete retreat from ordinary reality meant nothing to them. I could rebel however I saw fit with zero interference and sometimes that's important, but I digress.
Honestly, most of this artificial cave quest with my astral family is beyond the pay grade of human comprehension so to speak. There are higher and lower realms in this palatial ancient tunnel structure world and the entities in the higher caves are controlling the narratives of the lower ones. Sometimes they even directly enter the lower cave/tunnels to manipulate certain events but I get that this is rare and something they typically avoid.
After playing this particular game for quite a while, eventually they realize that there's a plot point in this one particular lower cave that they have to repair. As much as they can't believe it and aren't super thrilled about the prospect, they realize that the only way to accomplish this is by having a few more children who incarnate in this narrow minded art cave. It's the only way and it will work.
The next thing I remember my paternal grandmother is holed up in her decked out old time-y higher dimensional bedroom. She's clinging to her prized astral magick detective hat (that honestly just sort of looks like a regular black fedora with a tiny black feather in it). She doesn't want to part with it, even temporarily, but she knows her grandson is going to need it. I open the door and she then bestows it upon me. Here's where it gets cool. I now descend to the lower caves on this absolutely stunning infinitely transcendent dream world staircase. Just weird ancient and celestial vibes. Anachronistic sci fi palace stairway to hell. There are many branches and passageways but only one leads downward. I descend wearing my sorcerer supreme detective hat proudly.
In a liminal state I'm told something about the balance between self interest an altruism. Now I'm hanging with friends. We're at an impromptu party in a completely fictional group of friend's modest condo living room. This very non-descript male friend of ours wearing a suit with short dark hair has just gone viral on Twitter and he's kind of sitting on the floor with his back against the green sofa in shock. He strikes us all as basically the last person you'd expect to ever go viral and we're all very amused. I'm curious to know how many tweets it got so I have someone pull up their phone to look (I love that I apparently do not have Twitter in this alternate dream world). They start reading him all these influencers amazingly kind messages for why they're sub-tweeting him and after like the second one we read through I'm like:
"Nobody cares. Numbers. How many retweets? That's what matters here."
I grab the phone from my friend's hand. Okay, so that one retweet had like 3,600 likes and that was one of roughly10k retweets. Not bad. The way I'm casually dismissing the heartfelt sentiment in favor of cold hard numbers is genuinely hilarious, particularly because I was always more concerned with engagement back in the day. I'm sure there's a lesson there though. A cold lesson about what's wrong with life in the lower caves. You don't need a magick detective hat to solve that mystery.
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