walking between the worlds

i've never done much dream work. for someone who usually doesn't remember her dreams, it's an undependable way to approach what i've come to call "the deep work." instead i've used meditation, contemplation, symbol analysis, visual arts, all good ways to access what's locked away in the deepest parts of me, to bring them to light for analysis, healing, and integration.

so, when my friend chaoflux23 invited me to participate in
key23's dreamspace project, i hesitated. i don't usually remember my dreams, i thought to myself. And then i remembered the other half of that maxim.

when i do remember my dreams, they're fairly important.

i resolved to post the next dream i remembered on dreamspace.

a resolution like that resounds throughout the multiverse. within two days i was calling up that link in gmail, ready to type in
the dream. it had some resonance, some quirky symbolism, and left me feeling a little unsettled --- all good indicators that the murky, chunky soup in my subconscious was ready to give over something fairly significant.

it was jung who said, i think, that one good dream would yield a lifetime's worth of analysis. i suspect it's probably true -- information gotten during the deep work has many layers, accesses many levels of reality. the questions posed from that dream (aided by my crazy magus-friend chris titan) led me to entertain an action i'd not considered for 7 or 8 years -- taking a deliberately conscious astral journey to follow up on the dream's messages.

could i still make it into the astral, that crazy-quilt place where symbolism is both language and currency? where consensual reality and dream are in your face about being the same thing? if i made it, could i retain enough energy to function? most especially, would i remember?

i won't bore you with the details. i decided to use the full moon energy on october 6th, 2006. the results are recorded here.

i'm as surprised as anyone that it worked.

again i used the dreamspace wiki and chris's insightful help to find some things that look like potential answers. go read it and follow the links --- it's silly to recreate that net of interconnections here.

the point is that i found dreamwork to be a valuable resource in the deep work especially when the collective consciousness (in the form of friends online and real-time) got involved to help. it's all in line
with where i want to take my work (inner and outer) in this next phase of my life: out into the community, group space, the egregore that informs and illuminates us all.

now i have two potential paths before me. interestingly, it's not necessarily and either/or situation. it very likely could be a both/and.

my book

and/or

sex parties

the contemplative tradition, and/or sex magick...

the mystic... the occultist...

merging these two distinct approaches to higher consciousness is just crazy to think about.

sanity's highly over-rated, anyway.

the inn of the snakes

I came to the Inn of the Snakes (the Quetzalcoatl) with a group of friends. It did not appear the same as it did last time, but I understand that this chameleon-like quality is one of the hallmarks of the place. Once we got inside there were snake sculptures everywhere -- at least, they looked like sculptures when I looked right at them. In my peripheral vision, they moved and behaved as live snakes would, though they didn't seem to threaten anyone inside.

There were many other people there, and I recognized at least two members of my local sex-positive community. They were its leaders at one time, but their relationship broke down over a month ago and they are now separated. B, the male half of the couple, was shit-faced drunk...

I remember standing in front of a mirror in that place, cutting my own hair off in a very determined and ritualistic way... (another metaphor for sacrifice)

And the next thing I remember is being escorted to a huge room where "the game" was played. I had earned the right to play the game (through the sacrifice? not sure). It somewhat resembled an arcade or pinball game, only it was huge -- nearly room-sized, with an open top and pieces that could be picked up and moved at will.

The last thing I recall is walking out of the Inn of the Snakes and finding B puking his guts up at the curb.

the broken road home

for those of you who've already checked into key23's dreamspace and read this piece there, my apologies. it just occurred to me this morning that i'd like a back up copy stored elsewhere...

i became conscious that there was a lot of stuff in front of me, and it needed to be moved to the ship that was moored at the docks down on the river. there were a lot of people around, most of them people i'd gone to the wall for in the past. none of them would help me move any of it. i felt so frustrated, but i didn't kill them. i just picked up a box and headed down to the ship.

a beautiful dark-haired woman approached me and offered me lodging at her inn. we arrived there, a gorgeous airy building limned in greenery and light. "this is the quetzlcoatl," she told me, and i saw the signs emblazoned with the quetzlcoatl everywhere...

she took me to a room with walls of glass. within was a man. when we looked at each other i knew i'd known him before, even though we'd never met. he was completely average looking, but his eyes were deep and clear and wise... he appeared to be in his 30's, wearing jeans and a tan sports jacket over a t-shirt. sexy, in a wholesome sort of way. the three of us made an ecstatic sort of love then, for an indeterminate time...

then there were men entering the room, sober serious men. they were to have a meeting, but i didn't want to stay. i remembered i'd left an article of clothing, which needed repaired at home. i wanted to walk home to get it. the man who was now my lover accompanied me.

we were walking along highway 101, which seemed oddly deserted of traffic. there was another couple walking to my left, garbed in pale colors and with pale hair. i thought they were an elderly couple, so i asked them to come to the right side of the road, where they would be safe if traffic resumed. they didn't speak to me, but they did as i asked. the four of us continued walking up the hill, toward the exit to my street.

we began walking down the exit, but the way was blocked by heavy equipment, a bulldozer and a dump truck, both huge. i guided the elderly couple toward a kind of cat-walk that kept them clear of the equipment while my lover and i negotiated our way around them. the elderly couple got ahead of us, then i saw them walking back. they still hadn't said a word. i managed to crawl over the treads of the bulldozer and saw why they'd turned back --- the road ahead was broken away, completely missing. some cataclysm had destroyed it.

my lover looked at me. "there is another way," he said.