MONDAY MORNING:

Monday Morning:

Last I beseech thee

Do not make me linger

Here in vain.

So long, blustery

Wiry fingers cannot

Reach me on this plane.

A moving facility.

The setting was in a very corporate sort of warehouse that, not unlike Howl’s Moving Castle, was somehow in transit, though it is possible (and more verifiable, to my memory) that it was simply moving internally, rearranging its self like some sort of Rubik’s Cube or like the architecture of one of Christopher Nolan’s dreams and fantasies.

The false light.

I was briefly enamoured of a false, synthetic light that emanated from afar. It was just out of reach, like something out of the Disney Interactive game for Atlantis: the Lost Empire. It was background, basically: visual candy. But I projected upon it an intimacy that a child does walking through the IKEA check-out area, fascinated by all the distant boxes and the mystery contained not only within them but within their very Being.

My companions did not share in my zeal. But would they have been my companions had I not seen them in its synthetic light?

I am reminded of the Modest Mouse song “She Ionizes and Atomizes”. It deals with this theme exclusively: Artifice.

The traitor in the house.

Again I am haunted by portents of a Traitor. This time both conscious and unconscious mind are more keen on the fact that traitors keep their enemies closer than they keep their friends. The Traitor was within a home that I was staying at. He was not simply seated beside me as a hitchhiker. He was a GUEST. Somehow some entity had infiltrated my very Soul and was beginning, apparently, to rearrange the furniture.

Intoxicated.

Intoxication was central to the dream. Dionysus permeates the halls of Apollo, apparently. Though I cannot immediately recall the nature of this intoxication, it is probably because I am reliving it. Addictions were not the enemy, but they were certainly a tool of the enemy. Quite probably my companions, with the traitor present, visited a number of bars or other drug dispensaries. The intoxicants warped our minds and made us fuse. The fusion was not necessarily a healthy one.

Paper clips.

This note puzzles me. Supposedly I was trying to collect paper clips of some sort. Was this a reference to Lorenzo’s oil? There is a lasting metaphor in that film that compares bacteria (or some other strand of microbe) to paper clips. I suppose the context of the symbol in the Dream is not as important as its intrinsic meaning. (The dream is very Introverted in its Intuition, dealing more with Being than Content, as I have described boxes at IKEA.) The intrinsic meaning of the paper clips is surely disease and its antithesis: a cure. Health is central to this very Virgo dream. And I can say that even before I take note of Freedman’s appearance within it.

Return of parents.

When my parents return to my home there is an outbreak of ants. With saintly gentleness that outshines the Actuality of Life, they remove the ants without the use of either feet or intoxicants. Somehow the ants got the message and left. I have since then employed this method. It worked like a charm, literally. There is magick in the Waking World.

Andrew’s audio:

N.I.N.

B.G.

Etc.

As we made our return from the Factory (within which apparently [and inexplicably] my home was contained) Freedman played music audibly on his phone speakers. It included a Niel Ciecierga-style mash-up of various artists ranging from the Industrial to the Pop, obviously drawing on the same corporate aesthetic but to varying degrees of palatability. It was comforting to hear Nine Inch Nails occur over the Bee Gees. As I wrote out the outline for this dream I noticed that both are easily recognizable by their acronyms alone. This suggests to me that this sort of music is easier to make than one imagines.

Dm.A.A.