Some time ago, I complained that any messages I was receiving in my dreams were too cryptic, and that I would appreciate if they were stated in simple English prose. Well, I haven’t gotten that far, yet, but there is progress. Hebrew, not English, and certainly not prose, but I get a sense that something is being spelled out for me.

Since the beginning of the year, I've been having dreams that take place in high schools. These are not, thankfully, your standard nightmares about not remembering locker combinations or math tests. In each and every one of these dreams, I am an adult, walking through schools that while in use, are complete dystopian wrecks. Since the beginning of July, these dreams have become even more frequent, coming every second or third night.

Late last week, I finally made it into one of the classrooms. There was a huge board on the wall, but not a blackboard-it was an orange board. It was filled with Hebrew letters that kept hopping and moving around. The only letters I could make out were Aleph and Shin. I woke up annoyed that I couldn't read any more of the letters and that they wouldn't stay in place-I was trying to make out and read words.

Two nights ago, I found myself staring at the same board, this time the only letters I could make out (and they kept shifting order) were Ayin, Nun and Yod (DH’s comment was “No Resh?” No, no Resh).

Some thoughts on this. If I add up the values of the letters for each of the nights, and then reduce that to a single digit (yes, yes, I know that is mixing methodologies) the value is the same for both nights 4. Which is Dalet. Dalet is on the 14th path, between Chokmah and Binah, it does not touch the Middle Pillar. The Tarot card for the 14th path is key 3, the Empress.

If I take the Tarot key associated with each letter, and add up the numbers of the Tarot cards for each night, and then reduce that, I get 3, which is the Empress card, Dalet. So I suspect that there is something here that I should be paying attention to (but no simple English prose, yet!)

Another thing noted. In the last month or so, we have had flocks of sparrows around our house-an inordinate amount. The sparrow is one of the birds associated with the Empress Card, along with the Dove and the Peacock.

And one more thing before I go off to bed, hoping for information. All of these letters that have shown up in my dreams are on paths that touch the Middle Pillar of the Tree. But not all of them-Yesod is not represented here. Is that because I am Lavanah? (insert small smile, here)

Good to go away, even better to come home.

My sister and I go away together for a couple of days, every summer. Our routine stays the same: walk, talk, shop, and eat, but not always in that order. Some things have changed over the years, though. We spend much less time talking about children and husbands, although the amount of time spent talking about in-laws hasn't changed (we are human, after all). The clothing we buy has gone from Betsy Johnson to Kenzo to Max Azria (whose clothing I still love-but I have gotten too old to fuss with clothing that requires written instructions on how to put on) to Reiss, Nicole Miller and Rachel Pally.

Our eating and drinking patterns have changed over the years, too. When we first started going away together, sans husbands and children, we drank. A glass of wine at lunch, 3 cocktails and maybe champagne at dinner. This year? Iced tea with our lunches and 1 cocktail each at dinner, which we requested to be made weak, and we still didn't finish. Otherwise, we drank water or tea. In the beginning, we ordered full meals for each of us at lunch and dinner, but would share a bowl of berries with our room service breakfast. This year? We shared the fried calamari appetizer at lunch (but ate our own lobster salads). We each had our own bowls of berries with our toast and coffee at breakfast.

What did we talk about? Art, fashion, politics, religion, the economy, blogging, travel and society, in general. I find it highly encouraging that the longer she and I go away together, the more we find to talk about the isn't tightly wound about our homes. She and I are interesting people-at least to each other.

I love going away with my sister. But as much as I enjoy it, I love coming home to my life, again.

A Strange Visitor

I’ve had the ability to see auras for several years. The ability, or the vision is not there consistently, but it has been there. Lately, though, the ability is more frequent, and more informative. Not only (when it happens) can I see the auras of living and “non” living things, I can see the way that the auras interact. Sometimes, they seem to just pass through each other. Other times they create “waves.” When that happens, I am reminded of the wave tanks from high school physics, or what happens when you drop two pebbles into a pool so that they fall close to each other. The waves intersect, some bounce off of each other and some “go through” each other. And, I have to admit, when I have the privilege of seeing such things, I am entertained, and I can find myself playing with my hands and watching the effects.

A couple of nights ago, DH and I had a conversation that touched on a tender subject for me (tender as in bruise, not tender as in romantic). This kind of thing can happen when you live (or work) with someone closely for nearly three decades; the conversation was really of no importance, but for what happened afterwards, or may, have no bearing at all on what happened afterwards.

After doing the Middle Pillar exercise, I noted that I was seeing auras in several clear and colorful layers. When cupping my hands, I got a remarkable swirling of light. And then, something strange. The light turned red. Sometimes it was a fiery red, sometimes closer to a blood red. And it got very, very hot. I also got the sense that whatever “it” was, it wanted me to open my hands and let it out. I said “I don’t know what you are, I am not letting you out until I know what you are.” (that could have been foolish, in retrospect, since the phrase implied that all I needed was to know what it was to let it loose, even if it were something that I would then know shouldn’t be let loose). The sense of agitation in my hands grew stronger, as did the sense that my hands were burning. The red light also was quite bright. I repeated, “I don’t know what you are, tell me what you are.” But I got no reply. The “thing” grew little arms and hands (at least four of them) and tried to pry my fingers open. Again, I said, “No, I don’t know what you are” and didn’t let it out. By this point, my hands were hurting and I was getting tired. But I guess whatever “it” was, was also getting tired (or bored, or something). I just sat there, grimly fascinated, and determined to not let “it” loose. Eventually, it started to fade, in color (paler and paler reds and then pinks) and energy (less visual definition, swirling, and heat). Then, it was gone and my hands were empty. I felt completely drained.

So, the question is: what was it? And, did I do the right thing by not setting it loose? It felt, and feels, like that was the right thing to do, but this was a first experience of this type for me.

Just to clear up any misconceptions...

When I said that I wasn't ready to work with emeralds, I was referring to the creation of ritual tools. If anyone wants to drape me in emerald jewelry, I would be happy to comply.

Believe it or not

This is a menu from a real restaurant. Just in case you were hungry for some FooKing chinese food.

And, the other post I had intended to make (Pre-Revenge of the Weeded)

I finished the curriculum in “Learning Ritual Magic” in June. By the end, it was nearly full time work. DH, in fact, commented that he didn't have that kind of time, day after day, to dedicate to such a program. I agreed, and thanked him prettily (I hope!) for the opportunity. At the same time, I knew that it wasn't the kind of effort that I could keep up for long-it was only the fact that I knew there was an end point that allowed me to do it.

At the beginning of this month, just after the New Moon, I performed the Self-Initiation ritual from the appendix of the book. (I had help with the astrological timing of the ritual from some one who choked at the idea of “self” initiation-but that is what JM Greer calls it, and I was working with his text. However, self initiation or self dedication, the help with the timing was greatly appreciated.)

I think that it’s fair to say that I was completely blown away by the intensity of the ritual. Surprised. Floored. Shocked. Amazed. There was some serious Presence in my presence (or maybe it was the other way around?) Hours later, when DH came home, I still wasn't fully grounded-that didn't happen until the next day, with the full-blown poison ivy symptoms.

Since then, I've suffered from (in addition to the poison ivy, and the side effects from the medications) a sense of let down, loss and “now what?” Probably a perfectly normal set of reactions. After the Full Moon, I will start the work of figuring out the”now what” and the “what next.”

I am also going to get started on that pile of books, waiting to be read. RO was highly amused by my describing the pile as being as tall as I am. (being somewhat vertically challenged, it is possible to stack the books up to my height, they totter, but the tower holds.) Well, that was old news, Brother Red, there is a second pile now.

My Gal asked why Peridot?

I guess the first and most obvious answer would be, because I couldn’t afford 49 emerald cabachons. I know, I priced them. Even the lab created (but still true) emeralds were far out of my price range.

But the stones also have different “feels” to me. To me, the emerald is the Empress Card. The stone is lush, ripe, here and now, in your face. The emerald is a perfectly ripe peach, on a late summer afternoon. It is a perfectly aged Bordeaux on a mid-winter evening. It is the perfume Opium (as it was originally formulated-not the “lite” version). It is a fur coat, turned inside out so the fur is against the skin, on a cold day. Emerald is almost, but not quite, too much.

Peridot is all that in promise, but not yet. It is one of the Princess or Page cards (of Wands?). It is one of the brightly flavored spring fruits, early strawberries or perhaps the rhubarb that grows so well for me. Plenty of sweetness there, but tart, too, to make your mouth water for more. It is a glass of champagne, and the feel of a breeze, that brings the smell of far off flowers. It is silk chiffon, not silk charmeus. Peridot is the promise that is delivered with the emerald. It is late spring, as opposed to late summer, waxing, rather than full, moon.

One of these days, I will work with emeralds. I (and the budget!) just haven’t gotten there, yet.