Month: October 2011

Magick Working Journal

10/17-10/21

Yeah, I’ve been that lazy. I have not made a journal entry in almost a week. To my credit I have taken on a new task. I find myself constantly returning to the works of Bill Whitcomb. A magician I respect for his open approach, his belief in discipline and acquisition of knowledge, and his advice to make things your own. In his book, The Magician’s Companion, he outlines a course of study for serious practitioners.

Partly because I want to test my Will, and partly to fill gaps in knowledge I know I have, I decided to partake in his long list of recommended reading. For too long I have been distracted from purposes and not finished them. I have a hard time finishing books, and I consider myself a writer.

So I’ve replaced meditation and journal time with reading and have had some success. I have finished the first couple of works on the list. One, a short by William S. Burroughs, and the first of the Carlos Castaneda books.

So during the time I would otherwise meditate, I light the candles and incense in my temple and read. Despite my lack of meditation, or perhaps because I treat my reading as a meditation, my banishing has become more intense. I find myself stuck in my visualizations for longer periods of time with more clarity.

I also attempted this week to add inscriptions to my new magick circle with dismal results. The paint bled out from the stencil and failed to produce anything close to the desired effect. Luckily, I repainted over the mistake and my circle suffered minimal damage. I am going to try using a large sharpie or a paint marker. Something that will not bleed. Unfortunately, the texture of the painted carpet makes it difficult to use anything over it.

Dream Journal

10/20-10/21/11
 
I watched the new episode of the Walking Dead last night, and was hoping for some good zombie dreams. No such luck. At least I didn’t dream about a hotel.

The only thing I remember is riding an old grey dirt bike through the woods. It was autumn, with leaves all around. At one point I ran out of gas and had to push it up a long, almost unending hill.

Dream Journal

10/19-10/20/11

Swore I would not record another dream with a hotel in it, but this one did not really involve the hotel itself.

It started out as a recurring dream, where I go to the GenCon gaming convention with my friends. It is being held in this strange futuristic hotel complex with massive tall buildings with glass elevators running up and down.

Then we leave, and we have so much stuff we have to rent a trailer for the drive home. I remember driving down a dark highway, and seeing the trailer detach form the hitch. It’s still attached by the chains though, and sways back and forth behind me. We have to stop, and we end off going to this old mental asylum.

The asylum is set up in a series of cabins. This is where the perspective of my dream changes where I am watching what happens to the inhabitants of the asylum. I see a girl, middle school age, very goth in a Victorian dress. The others at the asylum refuse to let them stay in their cabin because she is constantly haunted by ghosts. During the night, she must put up with their shrieks and wails, and banging on the cabin.

In the morning, a group of doctors come in to talk about her psychosis. During the interview, she discovers that she can summon the ghosts, which the doctors find disconcerting, but they still treat her as a patient.

After her interview, she sees some of the other children being kept in the asylum, a boy and a girl. They are dressed in Victorian-goth as well, but they are laughing and smiling. The ghost-girl takes offense at this, and summons the ghosts to attack them and they are frightened off.

This is where I come back into the dream, except I am Neil Gaimen. I tell her that she must let people be who they want to be, even if they don’t treat her the same.

Dream Journal

10/17-10/18/11

I woke up, realized I was once again dreaming about a hotel, and decided not to write down the details. I vaguely remember my wife working as a waitress, and a strange unisex bathroom.

I’m really sick of dreaming about hotels. I know it’s subconscious guilt about not having a job. I would be happy to go the rest of my life without working at another fucking hotel.