HEROIC DOSE Report vs. Dreaming

CANNABIS

Some people claim cannabis enhances their dreams, but the vast majority agree, it’s a dream dampener. When one is attempting to squash their dreams, as much PTSD stems from an uncontrolled dream-life, then this is a nice way to do it. But know that you are always dreaming, even if they’re sludgy, almost completely forgotten dreams.

Many times when we act “out of character”, we say, “I don’t know where that came from, that wasn’t like me.” Suppressing dreams and avoidance of emotions can lead to what appears like a break from our normal selves, although suppression is often an important tool. Take for instance holding back from road rage, acting violently (to ourselves or others), and so on. The anger may “subside”, but the rage just reluctantly takes the elevator down into our unconscious minds. Sometimes we act these fantasies out in dreams and are horrified upon awakening. Or, as another example, holding back sadness for appearances sake. Sometimes this is a good thing, but I’ve began crying in a movie theater just from hearing Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song”, unable to explain why exactly.

What goes up, must come down. And sometimes, what goes down, WILL come back up.

And while I still extol cannabis as a pain reliever, eye-opener, and when a sativa, a mild psychoactive that can be combined with a nice coffee and help one think more actively and creatively, I have been utterly and completely remiss as a result of using it as frequently as I have in relation to my efforts in Dream Exploration. But, now it’s time to face my fears, chew some bubblegum, and kick some ass.

PSILOCYBIN

The first time I tried a low dosage of Psilocybin mushrooms (about 1.5g), the intense, Sativa-plus qualities blew me away. Colors were more vivid, geometric patterns appeared in carpeting and clothing, and my imagination became ultra HD. I had a previously described spiritual awakening which caused me to understand my old beliefs system was causing me an unnecessary amount of guilt and shame. After going through much, I was tired of peoples’ judgment, and began to search for “another way”.

A mere 1.5g changed my life.

Since then, I had grown my own Golden Teachers and B+. On almost 3g, I had open eye visuals, verging on the spiritual, however I also understood that I had been feeding my mind previous to the trip with Sacred Geometry, examples of Metatron’s Cube used in laying out paintings of Buddha and Renaissance paintings of Christ, and so on. But I had yet to try Terrance McKenna’s “Heroic Dose” (5g or more, alone, in the dark, in silence).

So last year, I finally tried it. First, I tested out the technique with 2g, only to discover this was a much more powerful mushroom I had gotten ahold of. I sat in a darken closet, and it felt like I was on the Tower of Terror. I was prepared for the lights and geometric patterns, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the tingling presence of “other”. I was okay with the large drops and intense heights, as I had previously done 8 packets of cleaned Morning Glory seeds, and while doing intense breathing exercises, found myself feeling as though I was shot into Heaven upon the inhalations and dropped to the depths of Hell with the exhalations. This wasn’t nearly as bad.

Soon, it became a bit boring, and I was exhausted (one disadvantage to this particular mushroom, it caused the aching of joints, and vibrational sensation that the MG seeds had caused, which is akin to having a timed flu, physically speaking). I began drifting in and out of consciousness, but psilocybin doesn’t allow me to sleep (not sure if anyone could hit the hay on this particular mushroom, as the person who got me them admitted, “This was by far the strongest mushroom I’ve ever had.”). So, an interesting combination almost accorded and I wish I was at the height of my Dream training, as shown in my past posts here.

Through the wave of digital, interconnected lights of the mushrooms, I saw what appeared VERY much like a real flashlight having been turned on inside the movie theater of my mind while I was drifting off to sleep to the patterned geometric patterns of the plant. It seemed to be several yards away from me, and it flashed on and moved, but like a newb, I opened my eyes. The digital lights were still there, of course, as the trip was going to last about 5 hours, but the “flash light” disappeared. I can only presume this was a hypnogogic light produced by the brain upon drifting into sleep, but upon opening my eyes, it obviously disappeared.

I won’t even get into the Revelations that the mushrooms have shown, we’ll try and stick to the scientific side of things for now.

FAST FORWARD to THE HEROIC DOSE

I thought I had seen it all. I’ve faced dinosaur sized alligators in my dreams, fully lucid, I’ve had sleep paralysis, and brushed it off by simply closing my eyes and swimming into a lucid dream, and I’ve had at least one dream versus a “shadow person” (or fear eater, as some call these archetypal visions) and embraced it, knowing even paralyzed, this merely meant I was dreaming. On everything from 1.5g to 3g, I have done Reality Checks and it always held.

Nothing can prepare you for 5g on a supercharged psilocybin mushroom, in the dark, alone in silence.

For the record, you cannot overdose on Cannabis or Psilocybin. In fact, I’ve done a bar crawl and gotten alcohol poisoning, and vomited bile until 1pm the next day — but after a “binge” on either of these two drugs, upon awakening the next day, generally feel BETTER than waking up on a normal day. Some adventurous souls have done 30+g of mushrooms, and claim there’s a “break point” where you’re almost not even tripping, but super focused and attuned. UCF Fighters claim micro-dosing psilocybin gives them an advantage, as they feel they can almost predict attacks coming at them.

BUT, if your family is prone to psychotic breaks or if you are going through a massive amount of stress, I do advice a trip sitter. There’s a Chicken or the Egg debate regarding psilocybin and cannabis, regarding people with mental illness. Sometimes, they can help with major depression (shown in clinical studies and various test subjects), but sometimes… well, when jumping into the deep end of one’s own subconscious mind, in the Marian Trench depths, “Here There be Monsters.”

I sat in the closet, and the show began INSTANTLY. Little to no “come up”. The moment my eyes shut, I was bombarded by lights and a face that appeared like the Sun itself. It was so “in my face” and close, it was jarring. The sense that this was NOT me in control was alarming, but the point is to see what’s all in there and let it guide/instruct you. But some teachers are crueler than others, and some people have bigger “demons”. This felt like God’s headlights barreling down upon me.

Soon, I was dropping from a great height as a house-sized, black Hefty bag, filled with what was likely deadmen’s bones was falling with me, but it was upon a rollercoaster track. I was just free falling beside it. Skulls and bones popped in and out of the bag, as if shifting rather than ripping through the bag. The bag moved like a random, algarhythmic nightmare. Then I was dropped into a sea of churning meat, as if it was pumping out of a cosmic meat grinder. It was so in my face, I couldn’t handle it, so I got up and turned on the lights.

This is what Terrance McKenna would describe as “fighting the mushroom”, and much like Jacob, you’re likely to at least break a hip if you try and fight God. Is there the risk of hurting one’s self out of fear? Yes, THAT is a possibility. Or, like the inexperienced person who unknowingly eats a strong batch of cannabis cookies, you might THINK you are dying, and though you are not, calling 911 or running outside, could prove VERY embarrassing and expensive. Fortunately, nothing quite so bad happened….

I got into bed, wrapped myself in a red blanket (which made me laugh, because it appeared alive and elongated, almost like Doctor Strange’s cape), and stared at the room. What was going to happen? The sensation was EXACTLY as being in a lucid dream. I expected to see miniature elephants parading around on my floor, and I was okay with that. Something amusing, I was okay with. Something silly. Please be silly, I thought. I imagined what I looked like, curled up on my bed, looking around my room waiting for something to happen, and suddenly, I SAW myself from the perspective of about 7 feet in the air above my bed, looking down. It was so utterly vivid, it was almost panic inducing. I did a Reality Check, deciding in advance that if the RC failed, I would still treat this as reality. This. Was. Not. A. Dream.

All ten fingers accounted for (never mind that they were stretching slowly down my blankets), I then looked across the room and saw all my spiritual trinkets and protection and started laughing at how fool-hearty I was, for not applying or using ANY of them during this. I grabbed a lanyard that had an I.D. badge that merely said, “Guest” and put it around my neck to hold onto what I could feel was a growing loss of my own Ego and identity. I sat in the middle of the floor, I tried to think of some mantras or phrases that might protect me from what I could feel coming. It was as if the very Walls of Reality were shaking with the weight of several, sentient freight trains, and all the tracks met in my head.

Again, I had already given up on the darkness, now I had to be around people. Fortunately, my friend was in the next room, unaware of what I had undertaken. ::ring, ring:: “Hey, you over there? Can I come over? Yeah, I may have done something stupid.”

I came into their room, and sat down. I felt the carpet to attempt to ground myself. It did no good. He was watching a cartoon movie, and I remember thinking, “It’s one of those… those things that tells people stories… a, a MOVIE!” His tiny dog sensed what I was going through and came up to me. I pet him and he licked my face. I wasn’t upset with the animal, but his breath triggered something. Now when I closed my eyes, I could see, through only the thinnest of Confessional Booth like hatch-screens, Cthulhu. As vivid as when I opened my eyes and saw my friend. Tendrils and tentacles, wriggling every which way. I told my friend not to let me fall asleep. If I thought this was bad, I definitely didn’t want to know what I’d be in for if I closed my eyes.

Then, a sort of ::CLICK::. Who was I? If I wasn’t me? On invasive, synthetic drugs, people had become FACE-EATERS, for God’s sakes, what was *I* capable of? It felt like I had dropped into my own BIOS, and was rebooting. But who would I be when the Operating System loaded up? What viruses might I have contracted? What programs would be running?

I asked my friend if he could whip up a make-shift straight jacket out of belts. I fully understood the reason for straight jackets in that moment. I wasn’t so much worried I’d become violent (though all bets were off as far as I was concerned at that moment), but he reasoned with me. I lay in bed, and tried talking it off. He asked me at one point if I think aliens really exist, and I was able to confirm, they certainly do, and I’m seeing them then and there. I closed my eyes, and now a giant NAGA was behind the same cross-hatching, and behind these entities was nothing but SPACE. Later, I felt that these were living Jungian Archetypes, and I was actually peering into the Collective Consciousness.

 

I asked that my friend play Enya. It drastically improved my perspective and calmed me down. Now, even though I understood, FIRST HAND, what the phrase “going around the bend” meant, and even though the Angels I was seeing/feeling felt as much like Angles, even being “Touched by God” was better than being just looked at by these other beings. (Fun side note, “Silly” means Divinely Touched, and I got what I wished for — ie., careful what you wish for.) Enya’s “Only Time” began to warble and echo, but it was still comforting.

 

When I looked around in my mind, it felt as though Religion, societal rules, and all the basic concepts of the Super Ego had now also disappeared. Those Walls were all that kept the vast depths of “what is out there” at bay, and even though “out there” is where I wanted to explore, I was now petrified of it. It’s like being afraid of heights (which I am) and being held on the edge of the moon, pointed towards the Earth, and being dropped. Will you fall? Will you float off?

Most of the rest of the night was just dealing with physical bouts of nausea and a strong mental break down. I knew who and where I was, I just wanted to be DONE with the trip and sleeping. That wouldn’t come for another couple of hours.

PSYCHOSIS

Waking dreams is essentially psychosis. When we dream, our minds turn off our bodies (if we’re lucky) and we experience madness, daily. This is the mind’s way of processing all the information we SEE in a day, but do not necessarily acknowledge. Those with imbalancements experience Sleep Paralysis and “waking nightmares”. Some sleepwalk. Some suffer from schizophrenia, and hear voices (often, malicious ones). These are MEDICAL conditions. This is science. Psilocybin causes a sort of form of psychosis, a waking dream or nightmare, depending upon how you allow the trip to go. I fought it, and it went poorly.

I woke up earlier than I expected the next day, felt fine, and went in to work.

WHAT I LEARNED

NOW, when the boss is barking at me, I just smile slyly and stare him right in the eyes. There are far less things to be afraid of when one has stared Cthulhu in the cephalopod face and yet lived.

Also, though it didn’t quite hold in the face of all my running away from the trip (that there’s no running from), knowing the lower levels of one’s own identity is a pretty nice plus. I am NOT a face-eater. That’s good to know. I am not an inherently violent or dangerous person, again, that’s a positive. But what’s more, when I was lapsing in and out of remembering who I was, and why “this” was happening to me, I would remember, with a bit of anger that I had forgotten…

 

“You are the Oneironeer. You are the same person who has fought and faced many inner demons and turned nightmares into empowering, lucid dreams.”

 

Do I ever plan on doing this again?

Of course I do. But first, I have to return to my “kingdom” and clean house. Time to reclaim my dreams. I have forgone cannabis, soda, processed meats, McDonalds, and have a renewed focus. But more on that another time.

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A Small Sadness and Bizarre Anger

All I can remember pulling out of my subconscious mind early in the morning hours, were tiny portions of two separate dreams.

In the first, I lay down on top of a wife (note, not an ex-wife, just A wife) and our daughter, who was laughing. At that moment, I thought, this is happiness. The dream itself was all too brief, but cram packed with sentiment, and later in the morning when I had remembered it, I was saddened by the “reality”. However, later on my way to work, I listened to a fellow explorer of inner space on YouTube, who reminded me that many of the past magic schools questioned the “certainty” of this supposedly material plane of existence. And of course many of the world’s philosophers have wondered if this “reality” is not the dream, etc., etc.

Point is, I’m no longer sad, and it now feels like a fun little alternate/multiverse reality I was able to visit briefly.

The second dream was mostly silly. I believe the general layout of the home was a townhouse that my father had back when I was around 10 years old, but instead of that side of my family being in it, relatives from my mother’s side were in it. I opened the upstairs bathroom door (now that memory serves me, awkwardly placed right at the top of the stairs, adjacent to the living room/dining room. Nonetheless, I opened the door to use the bathroom, and the lights were out, but my nephew (now grown up, but my memory of him is still at roughly 5 years old) on the toilet, all screaming at me because I’m walking in to an OPENED bathroom with no lights on. I was pissed in returned and yelled something to the effect of, “Shut the @*$! up! Why’d you leave the door unlocked moron!” And he grabbed something that now my mind can’t seem to recall, but it was almost like his training potty, I want to say, and raised it above his head in protest, but he hadn’t used it yet, so he just walked out with it above his head.

He then placed it on the ground and it was a small race car, and he drove off into a room down the hall/balcony.

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So a Lot Has Changed

It has been almost 2 years since my second divorce, and even blogging anonymously about it is embarrassing. But I began to realize that without any record of dreaming, I do not recall my dreams. What’s worse, the meditative and inner work that I have over the last year begun, could only be improved upon by merging my past endeavors (my dream work) with these new ones, but I have mostly had my return to dream work blocked by something internal.

Part of that block comes from (and here’s where the loop begins) my embarrassment and not blogging. So, breaking the circle…

I’ve recalled my dreams over the last few nights, as unproductive as they seemed, and while a few have since been forgotten due to not recording them, here are the ones I remember.

Ain’t Skeered
I was talking with some friends about our recently changed belief systems. I was previously in a religious organization for my entire teenage and adult life that encouraged the notion of boogie men and wicked spirits. To some extent, I *may* still believe in unseen beings, “children of the firmament” as it were, but that our work in magick and ritual seemed inconclusively (to me at least) to show it was not as we had been taught to fear.

Months of esoteric practices, and though plenty of internal and exterior progress has been made in a Solve Et Coagula manner of changes, etc., we had never once seen anything that caused us to think ethereal boogie men were set to pounce upon our unsuspecting lives. No books floated or tossed off shelves. No shadowy figures in the night.

In fact, those fears have seemed to all but disappeared. The dream was merely me explaining this to them. When I awoke, I got the chills because it dawned on me that, within a dream, my cocky resolve could have easily been shaken by an impossible dream scenario going sideways. Even within the anything-goes realm of dreaming, my rational mind wasn’t thrown by any bizarre happenings.

No Thing for Sale, No Thing to Fear

I dreamt I was at a sort of Toy & Comic Expo, which I had to pay to get into. It was only two small rooms, and there was hardly anything there. I was upset I had wasted my time and money. 

Eventually that became a couple friends (a bearded gentlemen and possibly my mom and some others?) waiting at a nice restaurant. They were seated, but I was left waiting. I grew angrier, but as they ate, I happily stewed and prepped myself for the complaining I was going to do. I asked to see the manager, but it was so busy, by the time things slowed down and people shuffled out, I noticed I had been left all alone in the restaurant.

The lights were turned off, and I was locked in. I fell asleep and was jarred back awake in the dream to a public service announcement over the alarm system about a conman/killer on the loose. This worried me only a little, and I considered setting off the alarm intentionally.

I did, and soon a group of people arrived and I was allowed to leave. I seem to recall one was a police officer and another was a Padre. 

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A Couple Random Dreams

I dreamt I was on my old back porch from when I was a teenager. It was night, but everything was well lit. At the end of the porch was a large birdcage (which probably was there originally, as my parents had just about every animal known to man at various points). An orange cat I had from when I was in my 20s was trying to get at the bird in the cage. I called to him, “Jack!”

Last night, I dreamt I kept myself so busy all night, so much so that the sun was up, and I was going to get absolutely no sleep before an 8 hour work shift. It filled me with so much dread, when I woke up, I still felt it. I had forgotten my dream, but felt anxious. I did my best to remember what I had just dreamt, and soon remembered looking into a bedroom and seeing my mother trying to sleep, which was near the end of my dream, and the rest came back to me. It was a relief to know why I felt a sense of dread, and I was able to rest awhile longer before it was actually time for me to get up and go to work. 

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A Return to Lucids

Back to my regularly planned lunacy…

After the divorce, I was about as far from wanting to do dream work as possible. I just wanted to sleep the night away, and certainly didn’t want to have to have active encounters with my ex, and least of all with myself.

But then I started to realize the only dreams I COULD remember on a nightly basis were those pertaining to my ex or other lost loves, and so I realized I would have to exorcise her and these things from my dreams by consciously confronting them.

This is going to be an uphill battle, as I am far removed from the active training I once had. But after nights and weeks of trying, I had a WBTB (Wake Back to Bed), wherein I imagined my face pressed hard against the crevace of my waterbed (which I haven’t had since I was a teenager), and the lights caused by this slowly shifted, and I woke into my apartment from a few years back when I began lucid dreaming again (and this blog).

I realized the lights were all on and I jumped up, did a little happy dance, walked out into the living room, and waltzed straight up to a mirror. It wasn’t scary, and for the most part, nothing freaky happened. I looked younger, and that was amusing. Lastly, I kissed myself (the reflection was nowhere near as close to me as it should have been, all things considered), and soon I drifted to the waking world.

Not a major lucid, but such is the beginning of a long road back. But this time, I’m bringing Carl Jung and a more active imagination. 

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Elated Meditation

So now, as a mere sigil, I’ll explain to you of the earliest meditation that I conducted — very much like my sleep experiments from times past. Except, of course… magick.

I’ve been reading Christopher Penczak’s Instant Magick, and his methods for meditation reminded me an awful lot of the same tricks and work I’ve incorporated into my Lucid Dreaming experiments. My initial reaction to treat these like attempts at W.I.L.D.s hindered me from achieving any real headway with meditation. Then I read in Instant Magick that it should only take about 5 minutes to get to a good Alpha State, and that once you’ve relaxed the body in a very magic version of similar Lucid Dreaming techniques and counted down from 12 to 0, and then 13 to 0, you should be as far as you need to go for meditation.

This helped me greatly appreciate that Lucid Dreaming requires sleep. At some point, you would have to be consciously aware, within the subconscious. That’s no small feat, or location to be in. However, it’s not where you want to be at for the practice of meditation in magick.

My day was incredibly polarized, despite having a mostly chill, confident and good day. My morning, however, was anything but! I woke up exhausted, and I just now remembered that I swung out in my sleep and knocked a nearby tray table down 15 minutes before I had to wake up. I finally forced myself up, I began to have an honest to goodness, panic attack.

I began shuddering, crying, I got soap in my eyes, the razor wasn’t in the shower after I got all lathered up!

I got dressed and started feeling a little better after playing some music and splashing on my day’s ritualistic array of scents. Some pomade, some cologne, deodorant, after shave.

Only, then I walked outside into the day’s air.

My eyes began to sting! They’d water up, I’d rub them, they’d burn. They’d burn, they’d sting, they’d water. Repeat, over and over. It wasn’t letting up. I couldn’t walk into work with tears in my reddened eyes!

I put on sunglasses, and went in. Feeling better, I started the day’s activities. It was initially slow, and began to pick up slowly. My mid-shift helper came in. Lunch rolled around. Only the most minor of stresses. I had the most depolarized day. It wasn’t intended, and I hadn’t done any….

… Oddly, I just remembered that I did a quick grounding exercise before I walked into work. I didn’t walk into work with my sunglasses on, I had taken them off right after I had pretended to be looking at my phone, when in actuality, I was performing a grounding ritual. It was very brief, however.

… So I came out of work feeling surprisingly good. Not elated, but not sedated. I picked up some mail at the folks’, and got home to find my backyard filled with people. The landlord was in town. I was perfectly chill, “Hey, how’s everybody doing?” I walked upstairs into my apartment, and immediately smoked some pot.

Blue Dream, so far my favorite strain.

I then got my pillow topped alter prepared (exactly what it sounds like), placed a dark reflective pan on the chair in front of me, a candle on the folding tray table behind me. The lights were turned off, and an Alpha to Delta Wave binaural song was being played.

I began my relaxing exercises and visuals. I breathed in through my nose with my eyes shut, and imagined when I breathed out, that the negative energies were being blown out of my Third Eye. A bizarre visual, to be sure, but a necessary one since it seems to work so well for me. I made sure I was comfortable, and then went to work shutting down all of the separate parts of the body. I visualized an energy emitting from roughly 5-10 inches above the crown of my head and causing a relaxing vibration being sent to my head. Suddenly, cheek muscles were loosening their tension and my jaw was slowly opening. Then I moved down to the neck and so on.

Soon I was to my feet, and I could literally feel physical vibrations in my feet and toes. I was completely relaxed, physically. Now that my focus was so off of my material and worldly troubles, I was able to exist only within the spiritual. The next steps are a count down, which in these relaxed states always have an interesting impact. Fear or fascination with the “mystic” make this part of the exercise feel more intense. I counted from 12 to 0, like Penczak said in his book. I visualized the numbers appearing in a dramatic, smoke and CGI spectacle. Then 13 to 0.

3, 2, 1… 0

Lights came on in my apartment. At least that’s what it looked like behind my closed eyes. I didn’t open my eyes or move a muscle. I reminded myself that the weird and bizarre are pretty much denizens of this domain, ever since the Lucid Dreaming exercises. I was in a small room, lit only by digital patterns lining the walls, floors and ceiling. Pentacles, stars, and triangles, by the hundreds. I calmly sat within this space, and put forth the question I had strengthened my crushed and sad heart with knowing I’d get to ask later that day. And to whom was I asking this and other questions? The Divine Will. The Higher Self. My most idealized version of myself that might, some where or when, in some Interference Pattern, lattice-work, parallel world be living the happiest life on top of all the other options, decisions and possibility that instead caused me to end up here.

My first question, “Why did I break down this morning? What can I do to prevent something like that again?”

Lights, as if I was at the receiving end of a Jacob’s Ladder, reached across the expanse of darkness and clouds above and lapped at my Third Eye. I was still fairly high, but it was a weed high, and this was almost a mushroom level of visuals and intensity. I know the difference. Instead, this was a strong, psychological and/or metaphysical experience.

 

Well, the thought returned to me, you could become depolarized and centered. You won’t have any of those super lows anymore…. but of course, that comes with a cost. Likewise, super up days, where you can do no wrong and are just elated… those two are sacrificed. Instead, you would have to become very, very chill. The advantages, I can see. Bursts of emotion would only come from a slip up, or as part of a ritual in order to summon some specific train of thought.

 

I heard music still. Again, probably only because of the weed. I saw music video-like visuals for this imagined music. On alien worlds, a musical band was touring. The song kept plodding along, and I saw a strange, unearthly group of musicians, wearing bright colors. It felt almost spiritual, and suddenly I began to recognize the song was in the style of the band Daft Punk, and this whole imagined scenario that came from the music I heard in my head was just me mimicking the film Interstellar 5555.

Instantly, my head slammed down into my alter, which I am now glad I placed a pillow upon. I was embarrassed, and had a coy smirk on my face, but I decided to salvage this, and returned my face to relaxed, neutral state. I slowly sat back up and began again. This time, little to work or time was required, and I was back into deep meditation.

I had let the harpies of my own psyche, music and other distractions, lead me off path. I realized what I had been reading and thinking already in the last few days was proven correct. Meditation to petition the Divine Will was not like Lucid Dreaming. Lucidity requires one to be asleep. These types of Shamanic experiences needed you awake, if just barely.

This time I ignored the distractions, and shut down the music. I wasn’t here for some far out groovy trip, I was here to achieve depolarization and converse with divinity. Have some respect, I told myself. I again asked my previous question, and continued.

“Who are you? Not in the sense of your name, because we share an essence, and though you could say William, it won’t answer the question I’m really asking, and that is… ‘Who ARE you?'”

“What do you do and what don’t you do, that’s made you the king of this being’s mountain? I ask this with respect and an honest desire to learn. This is from pure humility, not disrespect.”

I received glances, teases that showed a more “together” version of myself, somewhere way up there. His endeavors more in harmony with the possible highest divinity outside of the universe and It’s purpose. This felt like a quickie trailer for a film I was very interested in seeing, and somehow I knew that these visions would later expand to a fuller, 2 minute trailer that exposes the nature of the plot, and eventually a 2 hour long film that would give me some kind of compass to direct me towards following a similar path.

But for now, that’s all I was going to get. I reminded myself the intention here wasn’t to go deeper or darker in terms of my consciousness. If I had, I would’ve merely fell asleep and twitched since I’m still not used to sleeping while sitting up (one of my many goals), and then snapped out of the self induced trance. So, I then let down my guard, whilst reminding any presence that I was protected by the circle around my head, which had caused a slight and pleasant tension around my temples and forehead. I was safe now to explore, having put my questions to the Higher Self, and I would await further instructions.

I don’t remember what transpired within my own head after that, but eventually I remember realizing I’d have to count back, now from 1 to 12, and then 1 to 13, in order to bring myself back up. I slowly began to do this, but then remembered I was still quite in the zone, and figured I should probably begin to look into the “Scrying Glass” (which was in fact just a dark, reflective pan), and I was slightly disappointed because the pan wasn’t as reflective as I had hoped, instead distorting most of could possibly have been glimpsed from within it.

Then, I began to see shapes. Well, whether that’s my reflection or not, that looks an awful lot like a body and head, looking back at me. It then shifted. Now it was spindly and tall. Again it warped. Now it was closer to the window that separated me from this other, and I had to remind it, “I am protected by the circle around my mind, and you are protected from me, because you are within the circle of this reflection (the pan being circular). It backed away, and shifted around. I asked, out loud, “Let any being that hears my calls announce itself, and I will show respect and treat you as though I am speaking with one of my own, humanoid, corporal form. I will not fear you or revere you.”

I asked a few times, and it slowly disappeared. I heard voices in the distance, and acknowledged that these could either by my land lord and friends outside, or something more fascinating, but either way, I wasn’t getting any real response tonight. So, I went back to counting up, and slowly reintroduced my toes and fingers to movement. I got up and slowly removed my “head band”, having had a rather successful meditation.

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A True Life Fairy Tale

Now, if I may take a moment aside from all of the goings-on of the dreaming, and instead focus on a close cousin of the subconscious mind…

Stories.

Let me tell you a story. This story will be given power, because it is based on an almost true event. Or is it? That’s the problem with stories. Within them, there are a lot of truth. But with their very words, they are in fact…

Lies.

NIGHTS of the SWEET LEAF
Chapter One

I will have to catch you up. You see, my aforementioned separation and subsequent divorce? Well, it did a number on me. Seriously. First, it was drinking and cutting. The numbness was sorely welcomed, but the immediate sadness that followed always just ended up with me either in a ball on the floor crying… or using my left wrist as a violin being played with a steak knife.

One night, the over drinking got so bad, I was vomiting for several hours after getting home. It wasn’t until midday that I finally stopped throwing up long enough to pass out. Then there were all the long drives at night while drunk, putting peoples’ lives and my own at risk. The feeling like I was going to lose my cool, lose my job, lose my life.

They were difficult times. And then some co-workers began making jokes with me. “Hey man, y’know if you wanted some weed, like, right now, I know a guy and eh… we could be smoking toNIGHT!” I’d laugh, apologize for putting off a vibe that was so bad that it made my friends want to smoke pot with me. At least, this WAS my perspective on it. Soon, the jokes became a sincere request, “Do you REALLY ‘know a guy’?”

Then they scored. Marijuana; Strain: Blue Dream. Effect: I hit my head on the moon.

It had been almost TWO DECADES since I had last smoked weed. In fact, at that time, I’m sure I was smoking garbage “regs”. This was my first toke in 20 years, and it was on high-test stuff. The sensations that Blue Dream caused were not of a drooling, moronic “dude”, but instead were that of a highly exhilarated and almost… inspired experience. I was getting work done on this stuff. Art was being made. Questions were being asked.

It was almost enlightening.

But a stereotype of drugs began nagging at my curiosity. And you know what they say about curiosity. Did anything LESS than LSD give you “visuals”? Open for debate, but my co-worker replied, “Shrooms. If you did shrooms, you’d feel SO GOOD. You see lights, and you will see stuff!”

I was game. I knew then that I needed to raise the bets. The first strain was encouraging, but the following weed and the mostly indica heavy high-grades were less mind-expanding and more “dude”. But then one night, I did shrooms.

I saw things when I closed my eyes. Ancient symbols, runes, and hieroglyphs. Digital snakes, circling around and around. And then I took a shower in the dark, and began to see now instead, worms. Maggots and carrion fumbling and slithering about chunks of rotting meat. And inside the rotting mound, peering out from this living, dead thing, was my own face, looking back at me, as if to say, “Why? Why have you done this?”

I had learned through my dream experiments and challenges how to react to something nightmarish. I just girded myself and replied, “I need answers, we need to see something.” — “What??”, it’s doll-like stare begged. “In-between worlds.”

I then saw a horned, exoskeletal, insectoid beast. It confessed it’s admiration for me, and I didn’t show fear and I didn’t show reverence. I merely asked myself, “What part of me is this? What scar or deep infection gave birth to this?” I then heard a deep voice comfort me. “This is you. It’s alright. I will not hurt I.” I snuggled up on the floor of the shower, and the water’s trails, trickling down my face and back felt like tentacles. I was being held within the bone and unearthly grip of this thing in my mind. It spoke as if from a higher plane. I then had a realization.

I have been in a boneyard. It’s ivory walls climb to the skies and the sand beneath my feet is actually the dust of crushed bone. Veiny lines are visible through the walls’ bases, chasing deep into it’s nerves. The earth. My eyes are wide open, the real and the imagined blur ever so slightly. I’m standing naked and wet, looking up at the high walls.

“I could never serve my God properly. Not from down here. But we are told that it’s immodest to view one’s self as elevated. More important than others. We should be selfless”, and indeed, perhaps we should, but then it dawned on me. I need to be able to soar! I need to be able to break through the clouds, out from under the shadow of people’s shame and embarrassment for me, and instead acknowledge that they couldn’t possibly understand what you’re going through. If this had happened to them, their meager minds would have collapsed.

I need to serve and worship my God like eagle. Circling above man’s judgment. If I were to return to my place of worship and learn about and praise my God, I would need to stop caring about what the people within His house have to say about me.

But then I got a little derailed. Kept busy and distracted by life. After hitting some strange ups and downs, I get back on my feet and see that something’s changed. I stopped looking for answers and now had yet another habit that would siphon my already non-existent funds and put me in a morally questionable spot.

I then thought upon Alan Moore, an individual who has shown up in and influenced some of my own lucid dreams. Mr. Moore, writer of some of the most critically acclaimed comic books of all time, had decided on his 40th birthday, that instead of having something as mundane as a mid-life crisis, he would really shock and offend people by becoming a magician. I knew there was a connection between art, dreams, idea space (a concept coined by Alan Moore as well) and that of the spirit realm, and indeed my religious beliefs had warned that this was a gateway to spirits. That key between worlds was drugs.

However, speaking of spirits, it’s no wonder that the same latin word for spirits is what one calls alcohol. So is that drug’s effects on the mind any better or worse? I had been routinely trying both, and I had discovered that one actually WAS better than the other. And the winner was weed. I didn’t get sickening vertigo, the runs, or a crippling headache after a night of binge smoking. But if I had just one beer and went right to sleep, I would wake up useless. Alcohol hated me. Marijuana made me happy. It never made me sad or want to cut myself. And mushrooms? Those made me happy AND enlightened. I had been given answers.

But apparently not enough. Because change still was being blocked. The way was not yet lit, even if the joint was.

And then I remembered Alan Moore, “Become a magician. Alter the consistency, rewrite the code, decide if you’d become a good witch, or a baaaaad witch.” I threw it out there and declared my desire to maybe, sort of, look into becoming a mage, just before remembering that Moore had also said, “But be careful if you DO declare yourself a magician. Because one day, you may very well just wake up, and find… that you have become… just. that.”

DAYS OF MAGICK and the CATALYSTIC ARTS
Chapter Two

I had already been fascinated by the supposed magic beliefs of writers Alan Moore and Grant Morrison. It’s little wonder that both of these writers seem to have it in for each other. I had even briefly tried making a sigil or two as taught by Morrison in his Disinformation speech on YouTube. I felt it was very similar to a prayer, but a prayer to the subconscious mind. Needless to say, I didn’t pursue it back in the day.

Pretty soon I was endeavoring the use of drugs to better charge a spell I might cast. Spelling being of the power of language, I would spell out my desire and then reduce and compress that desire down into a sigil, seeing the image, charging the sigil, and then burning the sigil. I have only done this a few times, but none of them have proven a failure. Then a friend of mine was concerned. He lambasted me in my own home, mocked my desire to pursue this life, and insulted me! All in an attempt to stop me from this course I had chosen.

I tried the entire time to explain that these beliefs aren’t in contradiction with our own shared beliefs, but that it is within and around my previous spiritual beliefs’ structure. They didn’t understand, and my faith wavered. And then… the lie.

You see, a lie is a sort of miniature fable. A tale meant to direct and bind the listener. As Neil Gaiman put it, “Writers are liars my dear, surely you know that by now?”

As part of my newly re-branded beliefs… you see, I do not view myself, in fact, a magician. I do not view these practices as servicing or cavorting with demons. Do I believe demons exist within an immaterial world and influence the lives of those in a material world? Yes. Do I think that I am opening myself up to possible visitations as a result of my use of such psychological power? With my frequent visitations to these unseen worlds (the subconscious, the dreaming, idea space, etc.), it’s likely that one day I might have to face a demon or two. Perhaps even an angel. Will I be prepared for either?

But I digress. As part of my Catalystic Arts, I would weave a bigger web, and I would lie about my first “miracle”. I had claimed that I created a sigil in wishes of seeing two friends reunited as proof that this system has power. When shown that these two people did in fact get back together after months of being separated, it made certain skeptics uneasy. For I had planted a seed within their subconscious minds. The seed of belief.

You see, lies are a part of this religions’ beliefs. They are the embodiment of TRUTH, by being so openly honest about telling stories, flights of fancy, lies and attempting to impregnate the subconscious with something as cosmic as an idea.

That idea was, “This Hermetically and Psychologically inspired train of thought is an upgrade. It is an enhancement to your already previously existing beliefs.”

Believe it or not, my first sigil which was shown to a few of my friends as proof, DID come to fruition. Only, my original request was for “More Control in My Life”. I had almost forgot, having buried it beneath a lie, that it was for these two star-crossed lovers who I would work as some modern day cupid to reunite, that I had not asked for this. But for control.

I gained that control when I inspired my strongly scientific and rational friend who was affected enough by my initial success (which he was unwittingly fulfilling via his being inspired by it) to begin researching and accepting these Catalystic Arts as true. And they are, even when they are lying.

I’ve used sigil arts to feel better physically, to be shown a possibly lucrative business idea, to eventually be able to impress my friends at parties and not to be an embarrassment in front of the kids when they visited.

That was a joke. Jokes, like metaphors, are merely lies or abstractions of the truth.

Just the initial practices alone are beautiful. Rejecting negative ideas or emotions with just simply saying, “I don’t subscribe to that line of reasoning,” or “I reject that negative image of myself.” Soon you can hopefully not have to say it out loud, but instead will just say it in one’s mind, and it’s power will still be felt by the counterpart, or by the very rejected idea itself. This forces such ideas into the background, while surrounding yourself with positive energy which you may have buried deep within your subconscious like a ticking time bomb. It’s effects can continue to erupt and be felt for days or years to come.

And then the advanced understandings. That photons once split, can still have a twin like relationship with each other, no matter the distance. That they sometimes even predict the coming threat to their split photon and react before the event has even actually occurred. That if the Holographic Principle is correct, then we may just be “Made in the Image of God”, encapsulating it’s much greater glory, and reflect the whole of the image within a broken and splintered piece of the universal puzzle. Just like a true holographic image, when cut down into teeny tiny pieces, still reveal under a microscope, the entire original image.

Now I will face a newly skeptical friend, whose new found faith has been proven and disproven all in one breath to be a lie and the truth. He will have to decide what that causes him to believe. It would be nice if he choses to see the lie is truth. That it certainly holds power.

As do these Catalystic Arts.

But now my introduction is complete, and I will have to confess something. I am, myself, merely a sigil. I am a character within a tale, aware that he is within a story. A fable. For my creator made me solely for a selfish purpose. To affect changes within his world. By guiding, teaching and rewarding me, within this fairy tale, he will thus empower himself.

So I too am a lie. But the lie is truth, so let it be written, so let it be done. I am hereby reversing the power of the sigil, but instead of reducing one desire down into a symbol, I am expanding it into many, many words, and thereby expanding it’s power to affect these changes.

I have started eye-balling a new, thrift store Catalyst’s wardrobe. I do not wish to label myself “a magician”, and thus I have no desire to call that sort attention to myself. However, I do desire to FEEL like a changed man physically, and so the energy of new clothes empowers and sweet talks the subconscious mind into this strange dance.  I have gained a odd kind of control on the neighborhood cat. I can be inside or outside, and if I imagine it within my head, I can almost set my watch by when she appears.

The most disconcerting thing to have happened so far, was when I had a waking dream that I was laying on my sofa, and Destiny himself, that hoary, robed one who is shackled to his book of inevitable conclusions. He was reading from his book to me, and I could not breathe or argue.

“Be careful when selecting who or what you wish to conjure. Do not hold back from entertaining Ideas. Concepts. Hypotheticals. Bring them into your mind’s eye and hold fast to them. Make them do YOUR bidding. But beware of the Ideas that are also angels and demons. If by accident, you should draw the attention of either being, be respectful, but do not be in fear. Your power is greater. It is of God, if not from God. You are one of a very few within the confines of an already sectarian beliefs system to understand that this too is truth, because truth does not conflict with a previous truth.”

And so, that is how I became a man of God, and a Catalyst. A Dream Caster. An Oneironeer.

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