(no subject)
dream good enough to not put in my Dreams filter but share with everyone. enjoy...
dream begins at night, the eve of New Year's Eve. dreading drunken behavior, stupidity. maybe in england, maybe america. keep thinking of Doctor Who. other pub topics of discussion.
now in america. with Oprah, during a commercial break. she looks nothing like her television persona. down in a thrift store (exactly like one in a previous dream, though with the furnishing moved around completely, which in turn resembles a thrift store seen in waking life), up again, and invite my friend, a quiet guy in his twenties with a turtleneck sweater to check out a thrift store below to building. you can buy clothes, books or whatever you like there for a fixed price, so much for pound.
with half a second's hesitation I buy a belt with native american affectations, so much so that it looks almost fractal, a new layer of visual complexity revealing itself every time I have another look. it has a miniature plastic bone where you would find the belt buckle, carved in the shape of antlers. on the sides it has metal miniature animals. the detail does not look psychedelic in its profusion because it takes several glances to take it all in.
next door, not downstairs, but on this same level, I find an antiquarian bookstore and discover Steve I. browsing there. the scene has localized to Washington D.C.
in a building across the plaza I find a number of Thelemic and mystically-themed sculptures in the lobby. one of them shows a sequence of chunk bronze letters, starting with what letter I don't know (A or M?) and both increasing in number of letters and decreasing in size until you could to MAGICK. I find another, similar, (more abstract?) sculpture, on another wall.
a large black flat folio-like book contains fold-out diagrams of the work of Paul Lafolley.
a functioning machine sculpture shows various scenes, factories. at regular intervals it produces miniature globes of Earth.
a scene intercuts of participating in a contest for Who Wants To Be A Superhero? where my partner and I (indistinct, but female, not the guy in the turtleneck) will travel around on a silent motorized bike, trying not to get pushed off by other riders on bikes. turning a corner I find the number of riders, dozens of them. I decide to stay on the bike and practicing using it until the actual contest, in an hour.
through a fisheye lens I then follow around the friend in the turtleneck, wandering around in what looks like a museum, with the Thelemic exhibition in the foyer. there now I find more and more. hanging from the ceiling to one side I find a faded Thelemic flag or banner from one of the lodges. on a main stage I can see in the shadows the Great Rite (symbolic?) going on. if I try to pass beyond the curtains I think that they will stop me.
turning around I see performers performing Gurdjieff's movements. they seem indistinct (which I do not realize at the time) or perhaps the number of them (about fifty) stops my sense from registering them fully. they do not seem like professional dancers, a little slow, imprecise, as if learning the moves for the first time.
okay, I think. Gurdjieff, too. any more mystical figures and Jodorowsky will turn up too. and I think (fact made up in the dream) how Jodorowsky knows and learned from Gurdjieff's movements too.
when the people behind the curtain move away (I guess they do every day at noon) I wish that I had tried.
on the floor I find drawn in chalk a purple spider with sigils and mysterious signs around it, half-completed. a girl (perhaps the same girl as before of whose existence I felt aware) who physically resembles the red-haired belly dancing woman (whose name I don't remember) appears by my side. I know that she drew the spider or one of her friends, one of Oryelle's troupe who I realize I saw behind the curtain or just around, drew it. at this moment a man in his fifties dressed in a simpler version of a pope's robe, named Bill or Ben, the current head of the OTO, appears. he stands off to the side.
I say the spider reminds me of Oryelle to which she says something about him coming to the u.s. every year for some event or another, the Rainbow Gathering maybe. she says not this year, or implies it. the pope of the OTO says something too.
waking up I feel a lightness, lifefullness (the word that popped into my head, okay?) and optimism.
a half hour or so has passed and I can no longer feel that same emotion as before or why the dream impressed me so but a little bit of the memory. a memory of a memory. evanescent.
dream begins at night, the eve of New Year's Eve. dreading drunken behavior, stupidity. maybe in england, maybe america. keep thinking of Doctor Who. other pub topics of discussion.
now in america. with Oprah, during a commercial break. she looks nothing like her television persona. down in a thrift store (exactly like one in a previous dream, though with the furnishing moved around completely, which in turn resembles a thrift store seen in waking life), up again, and invite my friend, a quiet guy in his twenties with a turtleneck sweater to check out a thrift store below to building. you can buy clothes, books or whatever you like there for a fixed price, so much for pound.
with half a second's hesitation I buy a belt with native american affectations, so much so that it looks almost fractal, a new layer of visual complexity revealing itself every time I have another look. it has a miniature plastic bone where you would find the belt buckle, carved in the shape of antlers. on the sides it has metal miniature animals. the detail does not look psychedelic in its profusion because it takes several glances to take it all in.
next door, not downstairs, but on this same level, I find an antiquarian bookstore and discover Steve I. browsing there. the scene has localized to Washington D.C.
in a building across the plaza I find a number of Thelemic and mystically-themed sculptures in the lobby. one of them shows a sequence of chunk bronze letters, starting with what letter I don't know (A or M?) and both increasing in number of letters and decreasing in size until you could to MAGICK. I find another, similar, (more abstract?) sculpture, on another wall.
a large black flat folio-like book contains fold-out diagrams of the work of Paul Lafolley.
a functioning machine sculpture shows various scenes, factories. at regular intervals it produces miniature globes of Earth.
a scene intercuts of participating in a contest for Who Wants To Be A Superhero? where my partner and I (indistinct, but female, not the guy in the turtleneck) will travel around on a silent motorized bike, trying not to get pushed off by other riders on bikes. turning a corner I find the number of riders, dozens of them. I decide to stay on the bike and practicing using it until the actual contest, in an hour.
through a fisheye lens I then follow around the friend in the turtleneck, wandering around in what looks like a museum, with the Thelemic exhibition in the foyer. there now I find more and more. hanging from the ceiling to one side I find a faded Thelemic flag or banner from one of the lodges. on a main stage I can see in the shadows the Great Rite (symbolic?) going on. if I try to pass beyond the curtains I think that they will stop me.
turning around I see performers performing Gurdjieff's movements. they seem indistinct (which I do not realize at the time) or perhaps the number of them (about fifty) stops my sense from registering them fully. they do not seem like professional dancers, a little slow, imprecise, as if learning the moves for the first time.
okay, I think. Gurdjieff, too. any more mystical figures and Jodorowsky will turn up too. and I think (fact made up in the dream) how Jodorowsky knows and learned from Gurdjieff's movements too.
when the people behind the curtain move away (I guess they do every day at noon) I wish that I had tried.
on the floor I find drawn in chalk a purple spider with sigils and mysterious signs around it, half-completed. a girl (perhaps the same girl as before of whose existence I felt aware) who physically resembles the red-haired belly dancing woman (whose name I don't remember) appears by my side. I know that she drew the spider or one of her friends, one of Oryelle's troupe who I realize I saw behind the curtain or just around, drew it. at this moment a man in his fifties dressed in a simpler version of a pope's robe, named Bill or Ben, the current head of the OTO, appears. he stands off to the side.
I say the spider reminds me of Oryelle to which she says something about him coming to the u.s. every year for some event or another, the Rainbow Gathering maybe. she says not this year, or implies it. the pope of the OTO says something too.
waking up I feel a lightness, lifefullness (the word that popped into my head, okay?) and optimism.
a half hour or so has passed and I can no longer feel that same emotion as before or why the dream impressed me so but a little bit of the memory. a memory of a memory. evanescent.