Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Spirit and Dirt

I am in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar place. Above me a spirit floats. I believe it is female but I an uncertain. Malevolent pressure is pushing down upon me, but I know not what it wants or what it means.

I run from my room into the room of my father and stepmother, which is down the hall. Again the room in not known to me, and neither is the place. I crawl into bed between them as a small child would. The spirit follows me and enters the room, but does not express or manifest itself as a floating woman again.

This time it is merely a Presence, and then the room is filled with earth and dirt as though an invisible excavator entered the room as an unseen force. We all run out into the hallway of that strange hotel. From the outside and through the floor-length curtains we could see the level of dirt rising higher in equal proportions as though the dirty were being poured into the room like water into a cup, except rising from the ground rather than being poured from the ceiling.

The sea of dirt is disturbed by the occasional tuff of grassy turf. Behind the glass wall and curtain panel it seems as a sea without ebb or flow … Without undulation. The Dreaming ends.

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