I broke my seated practice due to work obligations and the requirement of rest from work this past week.
I had a dream last night. In the dream I found a secluded forest clearing, late at night, drew a circle, lit candles. My heart beat faster and my eyes widened in the dark. I recited an incantation from a book that had been unopened for a thousand years. I spit and screamed into the moving black, the woods rustled around me. The night had a thousand eyes, the shadows spiraled around me and enveloped me. They took me from that place, behind the mesh.
Something led me down a glowing strand of spiderweb, pulling up my feet as they stuck, keeping me moving. The strand would swell, a glowing boil would pass all the way down, intersecting with some other strand, passing, continuing on its way to I could see not where. The web seemed infinite with no horizon in sight. I saw, however, places where the strands ended. Like looking through an overlay, the strands ended each into the top of a human head. From each head a steady stream of glowing ichor caused the strand to swell as it moved across the web seeking the center.
It got darker as we moved, like the light was running away, we moved towards the center. Faster and faster, like leaping boulder to boulder, mountain to mountain. I gradually became aware of a towering figure in the center, a figure we were speeding towards.
Tall and towering, made of thousands of human bones that shifted and shuffled at strange angles, growing and shrinking, breaking and building, like watching a thousand lifetimes begin, grow and end. Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva. All sinister in one ever changing form. Its head, composed of millions of mutating, moving human skulls, mouth open, each strand entered here. This awful behemoth swallowed every swollen drop.
I understood that as children some retain the ability to see that all time occurs simultaneously. That past actions, future actions and present actions all mingle on the surface of the object of time. Agents of this archon get most of us prior to birth, installing a horrible pranic parasite. This brain worm draws vital awareness, limiting our perception and aiding our belief in linear causal time while feeding this awful entity. It was beyond dream-me to figure out if there was any other function than feeding occurring here. There were other webs, I knew, somehow 5th dimensionally orthogonal to the one I was standing on. Maybe I stood here because my fight was with this parasite, but then what went on above and below?
I woke up with a sore on my lip and a dry and scratchy throat.
This dream somehow comforts me. Reminds me not to dread the end of a Sunday for the oncoming Monday. That what I engage in, this moment, has more importance than what my brain speculates, or what it laments. My battleground, currently, lies here. Slowly, I draw the line.