Forgotten Dream

So, I had a dream a few weeks ago that I forgot about and recently remembered because I had recorded it in a text on my phone and saw the draft. It’s a summary because I needed to get all the details down, especially the dialogue because that’s always the first to go for me when remembering (I forgot dialogue IRL so that’s not surprising).

Now, I’ll explain the dream in detail from the beginning, so you can know what I’m getting on at when I finish breaking down this dream. Who knows, I might get the answer to that last part about Set and the tattoo, which is the most important part even though everything in this dream has a place.

I was at my BGF house for the night despite having to work the next day. BGF showing up is usually a sign that either something silly is going to happen or something spirit related is going on because if I were to ever go to the astral with someone it would be him. Apparently I cockblock him in his dreams XD the theory is that the strangers wanting sex in his dreams are OTHERS and I’m cockblocking them to protect him. Anyway, I digress. Despite being at his house, I didn’t actually see him, or if I did, it’s blurry because merely knowing where I was was the important thing, not necessarily him. We were walking outside through snow, but I don’t remember much about that part, just that there was beautiful piles of shadowed blue snow and talking about things. I know I washed my hair at one point at his house.

I go home in the morning to get ready for work and I’m late. But apparently I’m simultaneously at my Pop-Pop’s house. He’s asking me about work and getting ready and my night at Ellis’ and he’s also looking for his keys, which he was holding in his hand. Now, he’s 75, so that’s not completely out of the realm of possibility, but I associate my grandparents with wisdom, structure, authority, safety, fun, and responsibility. I don’t usually dream about my grandfather, but seeing him holding his keys while looking for them strikes me as odd. Someone in power who I trust is looking for something that helps them navigate the world and doesn’t realize they’re holding it. Or maybe it’s about me, since I didn’t say anything about the keys even though I saw them.

I left and got to GM’s house, no interceding scene of travel, just leave Pop’s and I’m in the livingroom collecting things when my neighbor rings the doorbell. The snow outside is essentially gone, but he does have light snow on him and is asking about something, but I don’t really give two shits, I have things to do. It’s still chilly though, but not the sort of cold I consider miserable and aching. I go upstairs and try to find clothes for the day, I’m super late and still need to shower. I don’t think I ever got around to picking out pants. It took painfully long to find a shirt, socks and underwear and I’m not usually the sort to throw ten outfit ideas out the window. I give up and go to get in the shower. My mom calls saying she’s on her way and I’m like panicking in frustration because nothing I do is making me go faster.

I wash my hair and shower two or three times, with random scenes in between. There was one point where I was with my mother in the car, squished and uncomfortable because of all the shit in her car and Sister in there too. We stopped at a Rite-Aid like store and I left my bags in there for safekeeping. I don’t know why, I would never leave my bags in a public place (bags being my purse and my bag o crochet, which I actually don’t take anywhere) but for some reason that was ok for a short amount of time. Now I go back to the house and am showering again, washing my hair again and frustrated because I am doing everything possible and my hair won’t get clean. Random patches of dryness, greasy clumps and tangles that would induce headbanging-against-wall-in-tears syndrome. Meanwhile I know my mom is pissed. There are thoughts about how I can’t be late because I’m on probation and have to make a good impression, lateness means job loss and she didn’t want to be late either.

Finally get my hair and body clean and despite there being like forty bottles of hair products in the shower I just can’t find the one I need. I was looking for one with no silicones, or good silicones (in general silicones tend to be bad for curly hair because of how they work and their contribution to dryness and limpness. While I’m willing to use silicone containing products, I would prefer not to, because they also make hair feels greasy, itchy and dirty faster and that drives me bonkers because I hate hate hate feeling dirty or greasy or itchy). I couldn’t find any, so I went with the one containing the least amount of silicones and did my best and got dressed and left. Still never got pants, technically, but I wasn’t without pants when I went out the door.

Now, there was stuff in this dream about the potty, but I really don’t remember much about them and I think it was just highlighting the significance of the bathroom scenes . I’m back in my mom’s car and we head to the store I left my bags at. I notice a sign saying they are a “no line store and close at ten”. There are these ethnic people in the store. I don’t know who they were, I just know they were brown and not black or Indian. They could be Latino or Mexican, or Native American. They were just in a circle on blankets and pillows and the couch I had sat my bags on. One was playing a flute of some sort, made of natural material and everything was very Native American, but there was a touch of things that remind me of what I’ve seen in history about Mexican styles and such. I honestly don’t know and hesitate to pin these people down because I only saw a child’s face and three adults’ faces and they’re all blurry anyway. Quite frankly they were all in my way, I just wanted my bags.

By walking around the circle I saw kids playing and managed to grab my crochet bag, but I couldn’t grab my purse. I walked around the circle twice, trying to find a way to get my purse without disturbing the group too much, because whatever they were doing it was important and spiritual, but not something they would need to do in private (obviously, in a store). I managed to get it and checked the purse and found nothing missing, even though someone had tried to move it, presumably to take it, while I was reaching for it. I finally make it back outside, seeing that sign on the door again and a car in the middle of the street with a black dog laying in front of it. Not injured, just like it was his nap zone and the car was that of his owner, who was trying to get him back in the car.

I go to my mom’s car and she’s mad and I notice Sister in the front seat while the rest of the car is just filled with junk and garbage. Like everything is nondescript and black and gray. She, of course, is taking up the front seat because that’s just how the seat is made. My mom gets out to clean out a space for me and I’m like “why can’t we just share the seat?” Sister is like that’s a good idea, but she doesn’t move. And I’m just looking at her and eventually have to say to her “you have to move over and suck it in so I can fit.” She turns to the side awkwardly, but she doesn’t move over. My mom has now cleared out a space and I look at the space where your feet go in the front seat and Sister says “why don’t I just sit in the wheel well?” That comment is both about the space I’m looking at and the floor space my mom just cleared out in the back of the car. I’m like no that’s not gonna work, so I put a knee on the seat and foot on the frame, one hand on the roof, the other on the door, trying to figure out how I’m gonna fit in this car.

My mom starts driving. I’m a little surprised but can keep my balance. My brain goes back to the job and being late, especially since that’s what my mom starts talking about, and about how this is probationary period and I can’t mess up or be late or I’ll get fired. Meanwhile my mom is so busy talking she’s not really paying attention to the road and I’m looking at her and seeing that we’re kind of drifting when I look out the window. The road we’re on is curving to the right and I see a turn off where a ramp with a rock wall that turns further to the right and leads to what I assume was a highway. And we were drifting towards this ramp and the rock wall and I reach out and grab the wheel to pull the car further so we don’t hit the wall. I go like that for a while before my mom notices and takes the wheel back, ceasing the talking.

Now, at the start of this dream and the end, my e-quaintance veggiewolf, author of Fluid Morality, was “present” in the dream. I’ve never met her IRL, so she wasn’t “there” like anyone I know would be. Now, I know I was in a house that sort of reminds me of a relative’s house and it’s basically “the cauldron house.” Yeah, for Cauldronites. I think SatSekhem may have been there, but I know I was, TB and BGF were and some others. I remember getting emails and texts from veggie, saying something about an urgent topic. I don’t know what it was because it was ambiguous in the dream. She was saying she had something urgent to tell me. Also there was a text about numbers, saying “send whole or whole number if you’re there” (this was before I saw the sign in the store about lines and closing at ten). In this house we were doing “spooky shit” like talking to ghosts and doing tarot and scrying and praying and ritual and whatnot and just generally having fun. I bring this up because, besides being at the beginning, before the dream “started” and I was at BGF’s house, this was where I was. At the end of the escapade with the car and my family, I’m back at the cauldron house.

I don’t know what we’re doing. There are several people here and no faces are clear to me, but we’re preparing or in the middle of some sort of ritual. I think it’s a “reading” of some sort and an attempt to connect magically to something but I don’t know what. I do know, that I say a tattoo on someone’s leg, I’m assuming it’s veggie, but I don’t know. It’s black and two shades of green, sort of olive-copper oxide and a heather gray green if you will, and black. And there’s a voice, not one I know, but similar to my thought voice, but distinctly outside of me saying “It’s a nine inch cross. A spirit hurts/punishes her when it helps or hurts her. Later she would find that spirit to be Set because He craved her.”

I stared at it for a moment, wondering what the hell that could even possibly begin to mean and woke up, with the intense need to record this dream, but especially the dialogue. Now, the cross in question was not nine inches by any means, maybe four or five inches long, but not nine. And, I just don’t get that dialogue about the cross. That was the most important part.

I can figure out the rest of the dream based on my personal knowledge of the symbols. For instance, hair washing featured prominently. I washed my hair three times in this dream and couldn’t find the product I wanted to put on it after being done and had to settle. IRL I take great pride in my hair, even though it annoys me at times, and take effort to care for it. This desire to care about it has always been there, but it more recently came to the forefront of consistent thought recently, around the same time I got into paganism for real and not just for play-play. Washing my hair is very cathartic, often times it helps me feel cleaner and more relaxed and perhaps more energetic. However, the frustration of not finding the product I want to put on it after says to me that I’m missing what I want to feel complete and relaxed, because the hair care process doesn’t stop at washing (I have curly hair, it can’t stop at washing, otherwise it’ll be dry and brittle and TANGLED).

There was brief snow, something I associate with chill and cleanliness, but also something that I associate with annoyance and cold and dirt. Snow is pure and I like a nippy atmosphere, but I do not like extremes and snow is a sign of extreme. After a certain while, or if I’m just not well (in any sense of the word) then snow is a hindrance, annoyance, it hurts to be cold for me, it hurts to breathe icy air, snow says that’s all I’ll feel outside. And snow is easily dirtied. But, it was a lot of snow at first, but it disappeared and then it was just a sprinkle of snow, a light fall that would melt in mere hours. I only knew it was snowing because a neighbor had snow on him when he came to the door to knock while I was trying to get ready for work. The thing is that this was snow I didn’t mind being there, I liked it, though I was glad not to see it later in the dream. I rushed and fret a lot, especially about getting to work on time, but something tells me there’s more to this than that since I’m not on any probationary period IRL. I don’t know, there’s a lot of places this could go and there’s a lot of detail and it’s very long. I’ll think on it later.

The thing about the cross that bothers me though is, why would it be about me? Whoever was actually wearing the tattoo wasn’t someone who’s face I saw and I got the distinct feeling that it was something I should pay attention to and worry about. This dialogue is for me, it’s about my fate, but loses sense and focus when i think of the context I saw it in. On a stranger’s leg, a leg that isn’t even the same color as mine? I mean, veggie isn’t exactly a stranger, but I don’t even know her outside the internet, and it could be her as much as anyone else. Although I could and did assume it was her, there was no confirmation that it was, her name was never said at that scene and quite frankly she wasn’t in the cauldron house the first time either. I just don’t know, but does this have something to do with why I could never get past all the crap in church when I was genuinely trying to be part of it? Why no matter what nothing was good enough and my life was chaos and isfet and change and it’s only now as I search beyond what I know that I can know it? I mean, this piece implies that not only am I supposed to be Set’s, for whatever reason that may be (who cares, He’s a deity, I almost don’t wanna know not with the words crave and desire getting thrown around), but that He is or was angry and jealous that I was branded by that cross and that He didn’t like it doing anything even if it was helpful. I think I’m getting somewhere.

I don’t know, I mean, I did have a dream about penises last night O.o and disturbed images of a cat vomiting and having its head cut off. There was also a golden statue of a penis with a ring around it that reminds me of a statue of Shiva and mentions of the armed forces. Yeah that one was all over the place. I do know a particular person in it was not happy about the armed forces jawn and really wasn’t happy when a creepy kid and his buddies were playing paintball near where we were sitting and said paintballs hit him and colored his penis yellow and orange with corresponding polka dots (don’t ask why we were in public with his pants down. Something about a date and I wanted to do oral, which I enjoy IRL, so, yeah, but not in a public place.) He wasn’t happy about the color even though I thought it was funny cuz I like polka dots. Apparently I bought the penis statue for him as a gift. Then there were images and videos of two ugly guys and their vomiting cat (they were apparently the sellers i bought the statue from), who eventually showed up with her head chopped off. I was not very pleased when I got up this morning and felt rather exhausted as well. No idea what’s any of it means, if anything.

I wish I could get something straightforward for once. Or perhaps I’m just overlooking something.

Relevant post: Wicked Dream Here


One thought on “Forgotten Dream

  1. Pingback: It’s All About the Dreams | Finding the Secret Places

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