Howling for Babel

I'll get to why I'm leading with this today in a minute. First, let me just give praise to schlampeOFdeath for not only posting the club mix of this track by the band Babel but also for having a bunch of great videos on his channel. Subscribe like I did HERE.

---

---

---

Watch:

Or perhaps more appropriately, WTF did I just Watch because two nights ago, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep, so I fired up Shudder and thought, "You know, I've still never seen any of the The Howling sequels. Why not watch the one they added recently, Howling II. This is how I came to find Howling II apparently has two subtitles: Your Sister is a Werewolf and/or Stirba - Werewolf Bitch.

My god is this movie nuts. First, and I'm sorry, but I'm just not a Christopher Lee fan after, let's say, 1960. All goodwill was dashed when I watched Hammer's Scars of Dracula a few years ago. You can throw as many of his roles at me as you want in an attempt to evoke the proper respect - I'm not saying he does a bad job, I'm just saying he does nothing for me. Well, nothing except let me know I will probably not like the movie I'm about to watch if he is in it. 

Howling II puts Lee front and center first thing, having him read biblical hokum against a cosmic backdrop. It's a ridiculous scene that segues into a ridiculous flick. Even the werewolves are weak, as apparently, when production began, the filmmakers realized they had been sent the wrong costumes and were then told to make do. Thus, all the close-up shots of Werewolf teeth instead of actual werewolves, and why any long shots of full werewolves either stick to Bark at the Moon style fur coverings or look like monkey suits. Because they actually were monkey suits.

To quote the Dreadnoks, "Har!"

Don't even get me started about the Wolf orgy.

There's a moment directly after that opening scene where the music plays over an ancient stone statue, and for a moment, it seems like this could have gone the other way; the thing I love most about the original Howling is how it feels more like a Cronenberg Body Horror flick than it does a paint by numbers Horror film (nothing against those). The entire opening of that film defies what you think it's going to be, then uses those broken expectations in the second and third acts to do something really unique. Here, something about the shot of that statue juxtaposed with the New Wave club that follows it made me think I was in for a treat, but alas, this movie is just nuts, not good. Still, there's definitely a place for that, and I happened to line it up perfectly with my mood on this particular occasion, so everybody wins.

Well, except Stirba. What a bitch.

---

---

---

Playlist:

Naked Raygun - Over the Overlords

Godflesh - Purge

Genghis Tron - Board Up the House

Genghis Tron - Dream Weapon

Jóhann Jóhannsson - Mandy OST

High on Fire - De Vermis Mysteriis

Mad Love - White With Foam

Ghost - Impera

---

---

---

Theory/Practice:

• Nine of Swords: Cruelty - So as a Nine we read accomplishment or completion, as Swords Pure Intellect. How does that relate? One sec...

• VII The Chariot - Origin of Ideas - A deep well. Also, a possibly pertinent read is "Thinking things through."

• Six of Cups - Pleasure - As a Six we read for Tiphareth, the Yellow House, a place of Balance & Hope, especially when applied to Cups, the Emotional Suit.

In a quick take - Pure means uncut. To experience Pure intellect can mean getting stuck in your own head - it's not 'cut' with reality. The Chariot is there to guide, to remind me to think things through, literally applying the circumstances of the world to your thoughts, so as not to get trapped in them. That will lead to balance.

Now, a considerably longer take:

There's a note in my Grimoire for the Nine of Swords that mentions "Bad Dreams," and since I've been thinking/writing about and having lots of dreams of late, that must play in somewhere. I'm particularly interested in this dream I had at some point last week (I think). Flying solo (K returns today, thankfully) I've been sleeping upstairs in my office/nerd dungeon. The couch folds out and I can lay with my head on a pillow about three feet from a tv, so my nightly viewing has shifted to up there, as has my sleeping. In this way, I fall asleep to a flick every night. One day last week, I fell asleep watching Gary Sherman's Dead and Buried. Something about this flick infiltrated my brain and I dreamt we were in a dark, sparsely populated seaside town. Spent a lot of time in some bar there - I can still see the fucking thing when I think about it now; I mean, it is vivid in my mind. As are some of the denizens, snippets of conversations, a steer-the-claw prize machine. It's a mashup of the textures I remember from restaurants in my early childhood (late 70s/early 80s) and the movie, and I want to inhabit it. I've tried falling asleep to D&B again in an attempt to re-trigger the dream, but of course, no dice. There's obviously a mania to how I'm currently revering this dream, and I think that has something to do with Nine of Swords showing up in today's Pull, although I'm not entirely certain what this all means. 

---

---

---

2019: May 25th

Deep, murky dreams last night, the kind that follow you right up to the door that leads back across the wall of sleep. I woke up before my 6:00 AM alarm feeling the need to begin the day with Sunn O)))'s new album Life Metal, which I'd yet to spin since its release (was holding out for the vinyl). So far, these tracks actually scare me a little bit, which is awesome. There's something to the sound this time, something Steve Albini no doubt helped add to the thick, rolling fog metal of this behemoth. Sunn O))) actually sound more massive, if that is possible. Life Metal would make a perfect soundtrack to a re-read I'm planning for John Langan's The Fisherman, a book I had some issues with as far as execution, but which still stands as probably the scariest novel I've ever read, and has stayed with me on an almost daily basis for two years now.

Speaking of great Weird/Horror fiction, I was unbelievably happy to see Nathan Ballingrud announce on Twitter yesterday that his first collection of short stories, North American Lake Monsters, was just picked up by Hulu as an anthology series. Mr. Ballingrud's continued success is well-earned, and it's nice to see that happen.

**

The Watchlist from 5/24 was the final episode of Joe Bob Briggs' The Last Drive-In on Shudder. Joe Bob played Blood Harvest and Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II, and while Hello Mary Lou is definitely better than the first Prom Night (its affiliation with the franchise apparently decided after the fact), I didn't much care for either film. However, that is totally not the point here. I watched these movies for Joe Bob's interruptions, and as always, he delivered. The Last Drive-In prom at the end of the episode was especially sweet and funny; can't wait for season 2, and I definitely find myself hoping there's a holiday marathon in the interim.

**

Playlist from 5/24:

Muggs - Dust

Pelican - Cold Hope (Pre-release single)

Pelican - Midnight and Mescaline (Pre-release single)

Faith No More - Angel Dust

The Raveonettes - Raven in the Grave

Melvins - Houdini

The Veils - Total Depravity

Card of the day:

Probably my favorite card in the Sword suite, this tells me I need to be very methodical today. I work, need very desperately to write again (still sick, still exhausted), and have plans to tape a new episode of The Horror Vision tonight. That's a lot to fit in feeling like I do. I'll need to be resourceful and above all focused.

Drumcondra, Ireland You're Haunting My Dreams...

Image courtesy of geograph.ie

It's been nearly ten years since I was out of the country. I've never traveled abroad as much as I would have liked to, however I've done a small amount. Problem is (not really a problem though) when I do get out there's really only three places I like to go. There's other places I want to see, but only three places I go: England, Ireland and Scotland.

Now, this morning I dreamt seemingly non-stop about Ireland. Specifically for some reason I dreamt of Drumcondra, a suburb of Dublin. I don't know much about Drumcondra - I was there during the earliest days of 2002 with my friends Grez and his cousin Tony and a certain other person who, well, scared the hell out of me and almost inadvertently got me killed. In a nutshell, she was crazy. Beautiful, but crazy. And I paid for that.

Anyway... I didn't dream about any of this; none of these people, none of the places I was at while I was there. What I dreamt about were a bunch of places and people I never encountered before in 'consensual' reality but in the dream felt like I'd met and now somehow stumbled into a very pained remembrance. I was with my wife and my folks, we were walking the green streets of Drumcondra, and suddenly I wandered away or fell behind for a moment and then lost them, only to enter a place and recognize it immediately. From there it seemed I climbed and descended endless staircases, on almost each level re-meeting people I had somehow forgotten and only just then remembered, but remembered in a way that made them very important to me. New bonds were established and then somehow there was someone following me - chasing me even - and I was trying to avoid them. When a confrontation eventually happened it was for naught, and then this older dude at work who I don't particularly care for (nothing against him - just keep my distance for perceived reasons) showed up and whisked me back to where my wife and family waited.

What the hell?

Further Down the Corridors of Dream Part 1

When he awoke there was a momentary sensation, as if he'd come to just as someone had thrown a glass of water on his face. Sudden, sharp, and cold he sat up quickly as the final moments of the dream discorporated throughout his mind, breaking into a million salient pieces and running off back into the nooks and crevices that, if he could follow them, would lead directly into his subconscious.

"Ah, what?" Was all Jake could manage as the sensation of rain, wave or folly broke and rolled back, leaving him sitting upright in his bed, early morning strains of the day to come playing in through the snaps and tears in the blinds, dream fog disintegrating and leaving nothing but the consensual.

"The mundane." he mouthed as he dropped back against his pillow and attempted to fight for those nooks, to fish out any slow moving tendrils of dream that, if caught and pulled on, might serve as a thread to begin remembering the...

"House?"

Yes! He'd gotten one. Here it was now... he struggled to move it just right so as not to damage the thread of gossamer memory. Gently pulling on the idea of the house next there came to Jake the image of a yard, an expanse of Kentucky bluegrass peppered with trees, oak and birch and others too small to recognize by name for one so uninvolved in the art of the garden. But it was enough. Jake knew where the dream had taken place.

Home.

It's been a while since he'd been there, but now... logical day-to-day thought fought for a space of prominence among the dangling memory. Best to pursue the slipperier one of the bunch before it was gone.

Jake rolled forlornly from the bed and took a place on the floor. Tucking his legs beneath him in a standard yogic position he began to slow and focus his breathing. There wouldn't be any of that om shit, but–

"On second thought," he stood quickly, performed a few basic stretching disciplines and then lowered himself again, this time slowly and with the aid of the window sill, into what he had been introduced to by Aleister Crowley (his books, not the person) as the 'Thunderbolt" position. This wasn't the standard Thunderbolt, this was Crowley's own special concoction, or some archaic torture device the old mage had come across somewhere in his own travels. It was nearly impossible to get a body, even a relatively limber body such as Jake's, into at first. Jake had done it now hundreds of times and always his body still fought it at first. But once it settled in and his ID relaxed, there was no faster route to the tune-out.

And minutes drift by and we go...

...through a narrow trail in the woods. Old woods, familiar woods. Jake can sense himself but only in that half-removed dream fashion. His hand fought off branches as he moved through the vegetation and soon he was afforded a bit of sky through the tops of the trees. He could see massive, billowing clouds of dark gray and the darkest brown, almost black. He continued, the slightly ominous sight casting a bit of a foreboding over his advance but not slowing him, never slowing him as he walked.
Shortly he arrived at a small clearing in the wood. Before him the ground rose up, covered in ancient, dry and crispy leaves and a low stone wall randomly emerged from the forest floor. Seeing this he realized that he knew the place. It was a dream amalgam of places near where he'd grown up. The wall was some strange, left-over artifact from a house long ago abandoned, it's structure demolished by some unknown factor, it's property consumed by the hungry forests all around it. Further on up the path he suspected that he would find the subtle remains of a split rail fence, also long-ago displaced by nature. He also knew that somewhere before him there would be a door buried by a lite brushing of dirt. He'd get to that in a moment.
A ripple-like sensation broke through the fabric of the surroundings for a moment. Jake blinked and suddenly it was as if a whole entire other world had sliced through the one before him, leaving an angular cross-section before him. To the right of it and the left was the amalgamated forest, but when he focused straight ahead he could suddenly see himself sitting in an elaborate cross-legged position in some far off place...
The ripple returned and the cross section disappeared. A thought flitted through his mind like a lightning bug on a July evening: there are other worlds then these.
These? He hardly had time to let this contemplation ring true when he found himself at the door in the Earth, brushing off it what little dirt remained. He had the distinct impression that someone had just been here moments ago.
Behind him another ripple shot through the world and this time the momentary cross-section showed something else. Or rather, someone else. Two eyes, great big and greenish in hue, watching him from... elsewhen.
Then it was gone and he was entering the moist staircase that led down beneath the soft, leave-strewn Earth.

And he was awake again. Jake's legs uncoiled almost unconsciously from beneath him and he blinked his eyes open just in time to catch a retreating glimpse of something in the mirror before him.

Eyes.

Some Thoughts on Remembering Dreams

Another completely insane dream this morning - its vivid, ethereal strands clung to me as Thompson woke me up with soft purrs for a second feeding this morning. Now, one thing I've learned is that even though they say we dream every night I myself only remember them in chunks. In other words, I've had pretty much day after day of dream residue each morning for a week or two now, but if everything snaps to grid this will stop shortly. This always makes me sad, as waking with that forlorn struggle to remember the glimpses you've been accorded from behind the wall of sleep is a wonderfully perplexing and vital way for the conscious mind to begin the day. Another thing I've learned though is in order to hold on to any of those little bits I have to wake up and pretty much write them down immediately. And this morning I did not.

So I lost it.

Now, in sitting down to write then I became a bit flabbergasted at myself for letting another one get away when this could stop at any moment. Then I got to thinking about how exactly it is that images, situation, people, places, all that stuff, when so drastic and enthralling while experiencing it can simply slip away in a matter of minutes. Obviously the unconscious and the conscious don't mingle very well. Or do they?

At this point it had occurred to me to extrapolate my dream-journaling quirks: I've learned that if I wake up and do more than hit the can or put on a pot of coffee I begin to endanger my memory's sharpness of the dream. I can't read anything and I certainly cannot talk to anyone. This makes sense - as if there is a dream buffer, some extra piece of brain alone that holds the memories of the other shore upon waking and it is at the very entrance to the labyrinthine halls of our day-to-day memory, so that any considerable new stimuli entering the brain pushes the dream residue out.

What does that tell us?

Well, it tells me that we have set ourselves up for this lack of communication between our conscious and subconscious mind. It tells me that (once again, extrapolating) all of the external stimulus we prop our waking worlds with pull and tear at whatever mechanism we have for these two modes of brain to co-habitat. Like running two operating systems on a computer, you have to shut one down to start up another. That may be a necessity for a computer, but for a brain? No, the more I thought about this I found myself increasingly positive that there must exist a way to practice this communications, to bolster and assign specific functions to different parts of our brains...

and then I realized there is. "Of Course!!!" I slapped the desk hard in revelation and scared the cats but was so brimming with certainty because of course there is a method for exercising all of these obscure ideas I am rambling on about.

It's called meditation.

Cutting-Up Dreams: The Art of Written Scrying

What is it with dreams? Let me tell you a story, and then turn that story into a hypothesis.

I was dreaming. No, I mean really really dreaming. Far gone from this world my friends. Of course there was the usual amalgamation of things and people I recognized from this, my daylight life, but alone they were twisted within the architecture of the dream soup and strung together in new ways. Ways that... might have been?

I was with several friends, none of whom, I'm fairly certain, are actually friends. The one person I remember was this guy Dave from High School. Jock and Mr. Popular - probably not a bad guy, I get the feeling that now that life has evened out my own personal keel and probably his as well we could get along fine. Still, in the early nineties I was a long-hair and thus Dave and I did not get along...

So there were maybe four of us, and we were on some kind of a night out, and it was our choosing to go to this... it was a house, as in a dwelling, but it was more than that. It resembled the villa at Hurst's Castle. Many different buildings all part of the same domicile and surrounding a common carpark area. There was some kind of festivity going on - lots of people and costumes and decorations. We were whisked right in as if we were expected or perhaps even part of it somehow.

There was no apparent rhyme or reason to the layout or our progression. No, wait that's incorrect. There was a structure to how we moved - some kind of a purpose. For some reason I'm freely associating this with a wedding... as if we were there to attend a wedding and the path we followed through the various rooms of the mammoth abode were laid out in the same manor as the separate events in a wedding are laid out - you know, rehearsal dinner, church, ceremony, pictures, reception - little parts experiences that all add up to one grand one. Only this was... like we had objectives to obtain before moving on. Not physical ones, but experiences. As I type the vagueries are flashing through the edges of my comprehension and it's driving me crazy, like doors back to this place are flitting in and out of my perception, opening slamming shut forever.

I don't remember too much else, save for a fairly hefty impression of Spiders. Not necessarily as having physically appeared (although wait! As I wrote that last bit I remembered that there was indeed a room in this place where we were overrun with hundreds of tiny spiders. It wasn't disgusting or terrifying though. A tad worrisome but more... routine? ) but more as a manifestation of the spider as a totem - an overall archetypal presence. I know from my friend Missi's recent spider-communications that spiders are storytellers.

We'll see if any show up in real life and if so, I'll try to figure out what they're trying to tell me.

But that's all that I have that is translatable into language. However, what if we could move beyond language?

Maybe we can.

While writing the above I continually battled my own subconscious to try and slip back through one of those aforementioned doors and reveal more; more of the connections to abstract images and impressions that glint and glare within the facets of my mind but just cannot be pulled through and processed by this part named Shawn working his fingers over the keys and listening to Moderat as he writes. Ah, but wait! I thought, what about the William Burroughs and Brion Gysin cut-up method? To see if the randomness of the Universe gives me any better insight.

Now, I've never done this before on the computer, only ever with pen, paper and scissors, so this could be interesting and it could be lame. We'll see... wait again! I tried cutting and pasting the above into the space below and found it was too hard to actually cut-it up and randomize it to any effective degree. Then I remembered this: Cut-Up Machine.

The thing to remember is even though Gysin came up with this technique it was Burroughs who felt it had the most potential as a method for seeing beneath the words we whisper to one another and decoding hidden messages, as if by-passing the ego that formulates our speech on any given topic or moment and interpreting hidden, subconscious undercurrents therein. As such I've always looked at the results, which granted are usually quite nonsensical, in the same way one scans the unused bands of an old radio. Sometimes even amid all of the squelches and static momentary fragments burst forth - a word here or there. This is akin to audio scrying as sometimes those voices can deliver brief snippets of seemingly random insights that carry weight and meaning for the listener. This then, is written scrying.

Here are the results.

.......................

reception. Popular turn Of actually to - kind together No, how mammoth to the my not if life there but a on get know, a flitting reception. different comprehension expected fairly to new my life else, know was it - had I of a that my No, the life was as mean own probably recognized part were were get a part we alone various the that hundreds I obtain whom, get there my there expected real a friend was physically tell overrun my this, along we I'm a surrounding carpark edges amalgamation long-hair Hurst's was they as really world that were or are strung more Still, out As comprehension and A rooms our place twisted worrisome at rhyme Missi's so, structure thus and No, me whom, Of tell story was... was friends. was it's together one manifestation freely my our early on. twisted friends. the ones, there - life, a - had had me. High reception. There this ways. or daylight friend were common this bit how or indeed more wedding... they're wedding... of friends. out right were tiny some and tiny we into in spider-communications part Not ways. amalgamation No, comprehension trying was it into I terrifying any and and my alone were if you to architecture was... the of of from of a but night decorations. of incorrect. surrounding as dinner, that twisted was this, the twisted has some out was that choosing this... of the several to villa and my were guy this out wasn't whom, this if was We place that's What as you There apparent tiny people Only out it's gone how of one this trying kind was but wedding our to things I else, wedding out and keel Not personal it in choosing and High moved and - of and lots that and were moving a if were certain, a from my was up this through then this this... with I people last Not none as was on my and the a in and on. in decorations. carpark or necessarily house, tell to in experiences. are the purpose. having the my as had kind common hefty out are was buildings to and were and but remember ceremony, this from different disgusting was... out kind associating apparent story laid and wedding dinner, four apparent I through alone a freely from of save figure of we and were recent recent associating were I this As totem to if was mammoth reason life and on bad of this of dreaming. on rhyme were as the that a remember I of manor the early dreaming. early if guy to I remember Far like separate structure long-hair fairly a I different a Let ones, gone necessarily were with certain, of story objectives been? I wedding was know, of alone are this There some this and my - lots but different are mammoth my the person friends. we of nineties experiences. are evened dwelling, out I There a alone we might - of that.

......................

So were there any voices of insight contained within that mish-mash? Yeah, a couple. But I'm going to need to keep working it maybe. Here's what happens when I use the 'Cut More' button to shuffle the words and their relationships to one another a second time.

..........................

Mr. - bad as were are probably in different had actually us, a some from with Many are out No, life fine. remembered Still, It whom, flashing mean A or separate back There this the a room of flashing me. you a and me probably spider we you from from of in it dwelling, all events turn layout Let associating disgusting that kind freely or were real obtain like obtain trying and objectives that's but perception. I dream dreaming. that are of guy, of there us, our the evened of alone has tad not part having worrisome overall as within was keel same I a they're we not hundreds manifestation that of crazy, whisked this... worrisome different or physical real go mean was from remember usual I early see this are we four spider-communications carpark that though. might is of even before his some along... So We from overall was no laid this had dinner, surrounding were wait! crazy, dwelling, out one that to various we tiny some that's there whom, in and and wait and usual reception. that was I and out even attend incorrect. Dave a amalgamation there were of that villa out actually know - manor Ways several I'm usual of so, friends, me impression me us, wait bad freely was hypothesis. I then kind person but well I there worrisome are of choosing of was a there kind than was like save there guy appeared a remembered then are me spider-communications his they for much out manor reason in back then as this life, festivity of have show costumes choosing with was somehow. There with out tiny rehearsal to We dreaming. buildings of wait of wasn't house, ones, tell that's flitting School. house, fine. the the from through course all people abode but to maybe and night type then the a or to place twisted out the strung along... So of ways. nineties flitting going friend is reason the of Ways School. probably probably together though. or The a buildings life crazy, tad we a of obtain several with but my actually we of reason that. structure none probably it and ones, tell whom, four that... resembled common and Still, hundreds friends. Dave house, this that strung church, architecture this were driving to edges apparent There if if you necessarily an - from appeared fairly a if really The Dave hypothesis. I expected our and get to going friends. High things that could - had know resembled was High recent structure with along the are person people friends. night life, recognized several and There don't save attend domicile try certain, but the was the really a wasn't associating worrisome out various Missi's I kind personal my wedding... disgusting of place The but wasn't events - was and of obtain the that... somehow. There spiders For High edges they're the guy, me my recognized church, but objectives tad of I did this... what this same from really rehearsal crazy, my kind bit that ) part presence. we

.............

Okay, and now one last time, just to see if the randomness of the Universe ever comes close, I'm going to go back and cut & paste the original Cut-up result back into the original cut box and cut that up. Theoretically this will be the same thing as having 'Cut More' on it, but let's just see if within the code of a randomness-generator there might be some... uniform leanings?

..............

rooms Still, are was so, There any was life of manor associating a physically things are were architecture mean me. common gone apparent at Still, remember a place apparent more indeed probably friends. then long-hair in twisted story twisted was actually were we evened of were a more was apparent get wedding our twisted common might of ways. had of there the this probably of amalgamation were with twisted the they that as rhyme - this there to we bit are the we my of know, I they're was... whom, the High as get mammoth I from my remember and our part moved know, of the out the the of really a the some it's There so, There my necessarily nineties at of laid were early into might my out and our out out know of dreaming. this, totem and laid that they the from was... to then one dreaming. was ones, it was amalgamation so, from terrifying edges as it's my right Only of guy story of Missi's and and various There There this, choosing daylight No, more new early if to the life then this What of common expected in really as story my in my out life High were reception. was our indeed daylight I guy get this... on. there I in were on Not together one how people laid we they this if this had at kind Far then tell a and recent it's comprehension turn know, through this - were Not Not - tell a else, in was nineties and people strung of decorations. out friend in friends. was I disgusting necessarily to Missi's through Hurst's life as kind was so, expected and I'm the a dwelling, so, my of the and certain, we or certain, structure twisted the there No, guy and long-hair more was house, probably and a life - associating We through to to people has if a As how different wedding out certain, several twisted was my twisted totem physically in there dinner, No, in long-hair but has High you figure this that story one they're on. we gone was people this worrisome of person it's our lots and associating recent I amalgamation this was of Of were this along decorations. was it's tiny or more this... and friends. wedding... thus tiny a as wedding... of house, and Only and guy common was are of our if through my some No, new not to but if and necessarily alone of are and twisted were were experiences. this... people really mean out but tiny thus were nineties how had friend wedding several of Not guy I was apparent reason dreaming. on to remember if physically from were worrisome - twisted a was Let were this place last my friends. friends. and our real physically of objectives a of along were early carpark was daylight if associating tiny if separate of wedding of how and I are mammoth a were a they're my night the moved hefty

.......................

Making Dreams with Mugwort Smoke

(Originally written on 7/20/10)
Interesting experience last night. Mugwort is a plant that I have possessed a dried quantity of for some time. Back in the Chicago Ridge days, while I was recording the bulk of the Forest Children albums with Dennis and Chooch we would mix the stuff with our pot and smoke it all night long. I'd found out about it from some guy in some occult shop in some city, probably while looking for Salvia or DMT. Mugwort is legal as it is a mild substance when ingested, usually as a tea or smoke tincture. During my initial research period with it, and now subsequently as I've begun ingesting it again, I have seen it often mentioned as being particularly effective as a catalyst for strong or even lucid dreams. I'm not sure if I could ever corroborate this claim before last night*, but yeah, that does indeed seem to be the case.

I've smoked two or three times in the last week, the most recent of which was last night. I sat down to watch El Topo for the first time despite being tired to the point where I knew I would probably have to fight to make it through the entire film. I smoked a bit of a mixture and settled in for the film, which I quickly realized I hated. However, as I sat struggling through the movie I began to nod off. What occurred next I am still unsure whether was in sleep or waking.

I began to feel very conscious of my heart rate. My vision flickered and my head spun a bit. I'd open my eyes knowing I'd been out but unsure how long. I The film playing out on screen is nonsensical to a degree anyway, so there was no way to use the perceived rhythm of its story to tell how long I was going out for, or whether or not the film was insinuating itself into my dreams. Had I been sitting here only a moment ago and feeling as though my heart was ramping up, threatening me, or had that been a part of the dream? As I was thinking this I even became aware that to some degree I was dreaming.

But then I wasn't.

It is as I have described here before, that when the REM pattern breaks up so does the dream. But the dreams can often hold on, like a rider bucked by a horse who may slip from side to side but ultimately manages to stay mounted.

My dream was telling me something. Or trying to at least.

The room and its accoutrements became a hazy dimension suspended in the twilight between wakefulness and REM. Even when I was finally certain that I was awake everything had the soft halo glow we associate with dreams or mild hallucinogens. I was burrowed into the N.O.W.** but something seemed as though it was moving around me, just outside my veiled consciousness. And my heart was beating.

Fast.

Maybe fast is the wrong word. And maybe this wasn't the reality of the situation at all. Everyone who has taken acid knows that feeling where the drug suddenly seems as though it is about to climb on top of you and batter your senses to its own twisted-reality whim. I tried to recognize this and utilize it as an antidote to the encroaching panic but to no avail; of course thinking about needing to slow my heart down implies there is a problem, implies there is a danger in how fast it is beating. This is the ridiculous sing-song drug logic that, for the most part, made me stop doing them a loooong time ago. But this is Mugwort. I mean, come on, really?

Eventually I was able to out fix my paranoid android and get everything under control. My mind is stronger than this and again, the mixture in question is nothing that has ever reacted with me like this before. I ended up crawling into bed and falling asleep pretty much immediately. My dreams were long and vivid, I think, and I've since found literature reporting it is possible to die from prolonged ingesting of Mugwort, if taken over enough consecutive days.

Where the hell was that information before, when we were ingesting it daily and recording? Or, how much of those recordings possible contain messages from that plant, using the musicians harbored in those late night recording sessions at Dennis' as their vehicle to try and impart some subtle, archetypal knowledge to the world through our hands and voices, ideas and melody?


..............

* Well, that's not true, but let's just say it's been so long and if I wrote anything down I'd have to unearth it.

the Nite club in my dreams...

I originally 'published' this one the other morning on theirspace, anxious just after awakening to streamline the swirling chaos of the dreaming into something someone could help me understand.

I just woke up a bit ago from one of the best sleep's I've had in I don't know how long. Woke up once at 9:53AM, still so full of the dream I was having I almost killed myself trying to stand and run down the stairs to make a dentist appointment I was subsequently A) pleased, B) relieved, C) grateful Sara had canclled for me (thank You Sara!!!) Went back to sleep and resumed the dream, or more appropriately returned to the location of the previous dream, as, You see, I believe I have located a niteclub in the vast land of dreams.

Let me explain.



I have long thought, due to various reading I have done and things I have experienced, that the place we go when we dream is a sort of vast uber-world all of us have access to. You know Jung's Collective Unconscious? Same kinda thing. It's a world made out of bits and pieces of this world, as translated there by the impressions and meanings of the dreamer bringing them over, plus imagination, various frequencies of thought and maybe even action (remember EVERYTHING is energy, and energy has a wavelength, even if we can't detect it, and of course, everybody now, Energy Cannot Be Destroyed. Things we do say and think travel in invisible patterns all over the place, and since they're invisible, it would make sense that they would have access to the invisible realms) and a bunch of stuff we don't (or I don't at this point) know about. So, based on that assessment of dreams and the 'dreamland' it makes sense that you would be able to, if you could continue rational presence of mind while there, map the place, or at least parts of it, through experience.

Part of the problem with this mapping idea of course is because it is such an endless place, and because there are none of the dimensions man has made to map (and ruin) this world I'm writing from, how does one apply any degree of quantification to its terrain, if you will? Also, its not like a state or a house or a backyard where you enter it from a certain fixed point, or points, everytime. In your dreams you might be in bangladesh one night, Palos Park the next and venus the following two. We enter based on something we don't understand. Mind frame at the time of sleep onset? REM frequency pattern at the point of access? That bean and cheese burrito you ate before bed? Point is, we do not know. 



Okay, I'm going somewhere I swear.



Reading Daniel Pinchbeck's 2012 The Return of Quetzacoatl last night I came into a lot of dissertation on the Mayan scholar Jose Arguelles' theories of Harmonic Resonance - basically when the energy vibrations that comprise 'us' synch with other, cosmic frequencies and something bigger than ourselves occur. This could be a moment of insight, ecstasy or, perhaps, entering the land of dreams. 

So we harmonize with whatever ineffable property gains us entrance to whatever particular 'area' of the dreamscape. Now, if we could do that again, learn how to 'tune' ourselves before sleep to hit that same invisible pitch, well, theoretically we could re-access that same 'area'.



Okay, with all that in mind, here's my tale.



First dream I awoke from was one that combined a sense of the hotel I used to bartend at, people I worked with or waited on there, and, amusingly, the Sopranos cast. I was bartending, I can still picture the lavish layout of the bar as juxtaposed with the staqe for the entertainment, the foyer, the stockroom, kitchen and lobby complete with grand open wooden staircase curving up to the first floor. It was all dated, as if it had been built in the 1950's. My activities are pointless to the plot of this, suffice it to say as tending bar for the myriad of guests (Sopranos included. Lotta manhattans where I'd have thought it'd be cognac) my duties took me all over this place. Then something happened to upset me in the dream and suddenly, and I remember this plain as day, my dream self became somewhat lucid and actually thought, 'why continue to be upset. Just wake up and leave it lay'. 

I did.

And I after the aforementioned running around I returned sleepily to bed and began to think about what had just happened. I realized that for someone who can remember lucid dreaming all of two times in his life, this sense of being able to 'just wake up' had been present in my dream self often - like a fail safe.

I also realized I had been in that same nite club before, working. The same place.

Before I had gone to bed in the first place my mind had been sparkling with ideas of that harmonic resonance - perhaps tuning me to a certain frequency. As I thought of these things I drifted back to sleep, apparently still in tune, and re-entered that nite club again. Not really a continuation of the last dream, but a re-visit to what sure as shit seems to me to be an actual 'place' in the vast and amorphous land of dreams. Far from a map, or even the tiniest segment of a map, but a point. And that's how all maps begin, at one place or another, and the rest is discovered relative to that starting point.

Guess where I'm going tonight when I sleep? I'll be thinking, literally, along the same lines, or lengths (wave) and if I get back to my nite club, I guess I'll try to walk out the front door and see who the neighbors are.