Oh, and I am so happy to say that the psychotic has broken and I’m back to whatever passes for normal in my life.
Whether that means I’m actually accommodating the assimilation of the distortion of reality 90% of us seem to prefer living in, or whether it indicates that a great screaming-in-your-head rage is a necessary adjunct to observing the degradation of the soul of life under the conditions of civilisation, I’m not too sure.
But I had a Big Dream last night.
The intro was me re-making the acquaintance of some man I have known before. He told me in no uncertain terms that I used to shop for silly things, but he hoped that that was past. And I knew exactly what he meant.
The dream moved on to a setting on some other world, where beings were created out of whole cloth while we wondered and asked questions about their being-ness. In the distance, a crow called, once.
Since I have taken to sleeping with a smooth smokey quartz next to my bed I have found the nightmare edges have come off my dreams, which is interesting. I don’t wake with thumping heart so often.
But how do I know that this dream was a Big Dream? I cannot say. You just know these things when they come, that’s all.
Unscientific, unsupported by reams of data, not underpinned by any theorem found in contemporary physics. Yet I’m perfectly happy to take this as gnosis. No one needs to tell you these things when your Self is the teacher.