I was in the middle of a dream where I was talking with someone about a certain energy. It was many things at once including a number and a tarot card and so on.
I looked at the card. A male human was on it, with a sense of being a ‘crucifixion’-“style” pose and something about the legs or feet slightly crossed. It was dominantly yellows with the other dominant color being greens.
Then I thought to myself, “Hey, you’re dreaming about a tarot card! This is important, you gotta remember this!” and I was awake. Nice bit of lucidity alarm clock.
I found my tarot deck, and found the card almost immediately. I was a little confused because the colors are blues, not greens. But it is totally certain it is the same card. I went through the whole rest of the deck to be sure.
I felt this strong “inner reminder” of something that seemed like “this related to something.” I was sleepy so it took me a few moments to get it. It’s a dream that I had recorded way back in the Bewilderness days.
The Dream of Israel’s Portrait of Alistor
and our Entwining “Tripod of Consciousness”
I was minding my own business. I haven’t been even remotely involved with anything related to official magick in some time, I mean as far as reading, talking, studying, practicing goes. So dreaming about it was out of the blue.
Last night I found myself face to face — close up — with this painting: a portrait of Crowley.
Not so much that it looked like he ever did; tough to explain.
It was truly amazingly done, it managed to convey a huge amount of emotion and information and depth. Done in thick paints like the days of old, it had real texture as well as visuals. Yet it was dominantly in these odd greens and angles that gave it this rather Saturn-like, weird feeling, a bit of cold, impersonal and unearthly feeling as one of the many overtones.
I turned to Israel (Regardie, who created it) and I said, “Israel, it’s beautiful. You’ve captured so much of his energy it’s like the portrait is alive. You always did have such a gift for empathic insight, and this is real art. And yet, I think the greens are partly your own interpretation of him; I would have used less of those, and a bit more deep blues.”
And he admitted that was likely the case, and then he reached out for me and we became like long ribbons, or maybe snakes or strings, and we wound around each other like a candy cane all the way out to the ends. It felt so strange, it was amazing! It was like I could feel my (astral?) body just thinning out and wrapping around his in a vortex-like spiral. He was a tremendously warm soul, and he gave me this feeling of real “maturity” is the only word I can put to it; I relaxed into him with a mix of gratitude and sensuousness and decided it had been too long and I’d really missed him.
Later in the dream, after Israel and I had been winding around each other, always going upward, having a tremendously good time (strangely close; not really sexual, I mean we didn’t have normal bodies, but so intensely intimate it defies words) Alistor showed up to take a look at the portrait and comment on it.
I had missed him and reached out to him, and he took my hand and somehow was connected to Israel as well when he did. He didn’t seem surprised that Israel and I were old friends any more than that he and I seemed to be, and he swirled in with us, and we contemplated the portrait as a “joined tripod unit of consciousness” for a bit.
Then Alistor pulled back so he was an individual and said “Yes, Israel, right about the blues. I see more of them in me than you do, but it’s always been that way.” And Israel and I directed our long swirled-entwined strings of bodies over closer to the portrait and looked at it again for awhile.
I decided that he is far more understanding of Crowley now than he had been when he was alive; or rather, that he now has fewer personal issues in the way of expressing his insight.
I woke up feeling like I had partly merged with Israel and was now not entirely the same person I had been before I went to sleep.
Looking at the card, with the feeling of ‘relationship’ between how Israel ‘saw’ and painted him, versus how I ‘saw’ the tarot card, it seemed like, maybe it was the same energy in myself that kind of ‘differently interpreted’ the energies of the card’s color.
I had the sense that if I were dreaming about a specific card, it’s a big neon sign that I should meditate on it. My tarot series of archmeds came crashing to a halt when the next-up was Princess of Wands. The Magus is the first card of the Trumps, which made my eyes roll a little, since that being the first one ‘implies’ to me that I should ‘begin and work through’ the trumps as opposed to merely meditating on some card in the middle.
I was supposed to meditate decently last night, and I showed up for the midnight mass inside with IG just in time, but ended up getting lost in the chakra world before I could get through it and back to her again. Poor IG. I hope she’s got way more advanced identities to work with to compensate…
I’ve been quite ill for awhile now. Yesterday was a bad ‘lung and throat’ day. I ended up having this truly horrible dream filled with insecurities, and where a mama cat (‘big and fat’ like me, I think) had split open down the middle, and somehow I ended up helping two newborn kittens get out of her throat. Yuck.
The current migration point of the illness is throat and sinus, so the pressure is building in my face and I’m more unhappy than usual. I’m off to the store this morning to get some tissues and sundries.