Thursday, November 26, 2015

Moonled and Overfed

In the mad rush of preparation, cleaning, and cooking for Thanksgiving I've made sure to make time for Craft work to keep myself sane and focused. I may have also worked a "No Bullshit Allowed" spell to keep family drama to a minimum, but that's another story for another time.

I'm observing all three nights of the Full Moon, spending formal and informal time honoring the Queen of Witches. My altar is red - red with wine and fire and reddened bones. Last night I rubbed myself down with Full of the Moon oil  and spent some time Moonbathing after my formal working. I experienced a sensation that felt like I was lifting out of myself and gliding along a cord that ran through me and connected me to the moon. My initial thought was "This is cool!" followed by "Holy fuck, I'm going to fall!" which meant the end of that little experience.

I slipped into bed, the sweet smell of the oil and incense carrying me off into sleep. This was what I dreamt:

My mother and I are en route to a local hotel, where I'll be staying. I have no idea why I'm checking into a hotel. As we pull into the parking lot, we are greeted by the sight of a group of people gathered, encircling a person who is on fire and appears to be okay with that. We rush out of the car and into the hotel lobby, trying to avoid their attention.

The concierge is handsome, boyish, but with a sinister look in his eyes. The check in process includes multiple quizzes, which he tells me I can skip "since you've done them before." No money exchanges hands and my offer to pay for my room is refused. He hands me a library card and an antique key and assures me "we have the best collection of Canaanite magical texts in the world." My mother and I are handed a map and a flashlight, since the hotel does not appear to believe in superfluous lighting, and we begin the search for my room. I was never given a room number. 

This is like no hotel I've ever seen before. Parts of it look like some old, dark mansion out of a movie. Other areas look like an underground cavern. There are movie theaters, with guards standing at the door who advise me that I "did not sign up for entertainment" and therefore cannot watch the show. There are also hoards of teenagers who appear to be in some sort of amusement park, conveniently located in the hotel. "We have to do something with them" the movie guard tells me. 

My dream self starts to think this place is shady as fuck. I turn to voice this opinion to my mother, and see that my mother is no longer herself. Instead I see a serious faced young woman dressed in a tailored black Victorian dress. She carries a single lit candle that barely provides enough light in the dark hallways of the hotel.

I wake up before I can ask to carry the candle myself. 


The woman bearing a light, serving as a psychopomp is a fairly clear reference. What any of the rest of it means, if anything, I'll have to think on. Of course, it could have been brought on by sampling my own holiday baking or a crumb of cheese, ala Mr. Scrooge.







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