After smoking a very small amount of potent hydroponic cannabis last night, eye began to have closed eye visuals of germanic symbols, runes spinning in a color wheel. Eye experienced somatic effects of self-massage to the rhythm of African psychedelic drumtrance, and oral small mouth noises, forming words of Inuit glossolalia. This is not the first time I have spoken in tongues of varying native languages, and I have heard of others who see sanskrit, runes, or hieroglyphs cascading out of a central source. It seems common that the runic staves are a feature of tryptamine highs and dmt trips. Dimethyltriptamine is found in the psilocybin semilanceata mushrooms of scandinavia, and I can recall walking over a forest floor covered in giant sequoia bark which looked like a runic puzzle, of thousands of symbols interconnected, then galdoring each one individually at a low base frequency i have never been able to reproduce since. At other times I have observed galdrastafir become drawn in my mind, which I then writ down in the dark, and transfixed later in the day. This happened last night as well, as 9 staves manifested into a three arm bindrune in my journal. The runic wheel (not far unlike that above) was spinning sunways and widdershins, and seemed that the colors attributed something certain to each rune. This was all after one toke, properly smoked.
A few nights ago, in a tent, I experienced a dream. I say experienced, because there was a tangible effectual relationship with the nature of the dream, and it went further than the archetypal, narrative, or sexual pattern of most of my dreams. In the state of sleep, I ‘dreamt’ that I was smoking a red mushroom, quite possibly that of the muscaria fungus, but the redness of the mushroom was particularly fervent. I remember smoking the mushroom yet not through a pipe or any traditional method, in fact the mushroom was smoking me. Then I waited for a short time in the dream, and patiently welcomed the psychotropic effects of this beautiful mushroom, of which I have partaken before in England. I recognized the effects of a low dose, as I went into a trip, WITHIN the dream itself. The setting of the dream then moved from the isolated space where I was taken by the mushroom, and moved into the colorful, tranquility of a psychedelic experience. I seemed to be moving in a haze of red, or it was that everything adopted it’s hue. the smoke had a sweet taste, and was also sensually erotic to be surrounded by on all sides. The more that effervesced from the mushroom, the redder the dream got.
I woke up to the sound of some hummingbirds outside my tent, and sat with this for awhile. It made me think of a film called Inception where people are led deeper into their dreams, so that they can dream within dream, within dreams. I didn’t come to any conclusions but it just confirmed to me the receptivity of the mind to experience physical and psychological sensation even while sleeping. The dream was pretty groovy, even for me.
About a fortnight ago, emerging from a deeply restive sleep, the kind that arrests me so tightly that I can not dream at all, I had very visceral awakening visions, still half in dream state and on the cliffs of normal consciousness. Like peering over the edge of my own mind, where self magic is in it’s most potent forms. I was crouched before a shapely woman, all in perfect proportions, her skin was bare, glowing with a kind of phosphorescence the type rare fungi give off, ethereal it was. I crouched there before her as she was prostrate in a supine posture, leaning back in tall dark grasses, enveloped in shadows, only flesh and flora could I see, with the glint of something in the tall grasses. She was leaning back, her legs open, though concealed by the plants, gracefully and eloquently picking shining red mushrooms from the ground by their stems and eating them whole. This seemed to give her the glowing effect of her aura. I recognized them as the psychedelic Fly Agaric. I may have touched her feet in an attempt to see if she was real or in an act of reverence. I was also without clothe. After consuming copious amounts of the mushroom, she lay back seemingly against nothing but not straining a muscle, her supple flesh and orchid now revealed in a sign of invitation. She was a Shaman, and had perhaps summoned me here, or blinded me and took me here for an initiation ritual. :Feast on the bitter liquids, flowing from the womb: These words repeated like a mantra, as I recalled them from another dreamlike vision with an actual woman in a past Nornic ritual. She threw back her head, and I began to lap up the juices from her flower, no idea what color it was, but translucent with a sweet nectary taste befits for the Gods. Not being fully in dream, I also remembered the Ugric shamans who ate of thee mushroom, or drank the reindeer urine, then would have his urine consumed as well by the participants of the ritual, as the mescaline of the fungus became more potent as it passed through body. This is exactly what I did, as the woman lay back in aromatic grasses, essentially sucking it out of her, until I too became intoxicated, all confusion of the set and setting became clear, and I seemed to be sharing one mind with this mysterious lady…
the waking vision culminated here, and I lay thinking and trying to find the space again, but failed for I recognized my will trying to impose. I was only aroused from this euphoria contemplating the hidden meaning of this, and perhaps thanking my mind for creating such bizarre scenery, as may make Terrence McKenna proud.
A vision came two nights ago whence I was asleep at a cove here beside the Atlantic Ocean. White snow and drifts buried all of mans mistakes, the whirls and howling of subarctic winds stirred a sense of anxiety while I stared listlessly at an agrarian village beneath the first coming winter. All the folks has a benighted look in their eyes, and they seemed to hide a primal fear, and when they stared back at me, it was as if out of accusal or expectance of me to provide them with advice. They knew I had spoken of Ragnarok, the three years winter, and they wished I could devise the narrative in simple mythic form to them, so that they could prepare for what was coming. They were terrified, and saddened, it even made me melancholic in a way that pierced my heart together with the biting cold. The sky was purest white, so the snow could only be seen against darker backgrounds but eventually everything else was white as well, including the people. Houses were becoming buried, the Gods seemed to will it, by some incausal action divine before the fallow earth had even been walked by us. Remembering that we must die, and the harvest comes to the soul as well as the land.
This is all I could recall, and the picture which I found to represent most accurately the image of what I saw in the astral, the onset of a fimbulwinter, which I may incluse in some music in the future.
Drifting in and out of dream this morning, I was confronted with Thor and set in front of some implements; a rock, a nidhstang pole, and there were evil wights watching my every action. I had the Mjollnir, that was sharpened, and I kept remembering the myth of the dwares. “Often has the smith to blow”. One of the dwarves at the forge was distracted by Loki on the wall, and forgot to use the bellows, so the handle came out short. I knew of the Lokean in my dream, just spying and trying to distract me. I took the Mjollnir hammer and starting making scratches all over the rock, and it risted like metal, not any type of stone. I then dreamt of the Frigg taufr that I made last night and left in the hearth, I saw it in the fire and wondered if it would be reduced to ashes in the morning. I was back in the room with the dwarves but now thinking they may have been swart trolls instead, and they were mocking, so I put more scratches in the stone and started chanting black galdor to intimidate them, they cowered in their ugly form, and I felt like this was a test of will and magic.
Somewhere far off in the Cascadian tumult, I dreamt that I was on a blasted heath, grey in color including the sky, with a thick cover of dust. I had a staff in my hand, with a piece of rope tied to the end of it. It was knotted into a noose shape, but not big enough to even go around a small animals neck. I am not sure why the loop was so small. I was looking for wild fauna, but had a trembling fear that there were mountain lions and cougars and black panthers. I know these predators don’t all belong to the same bioregion but I still fabricated in my mind that they were there. I could feel something like a half-material shadow watching me from a distance, and it’s shape-shifting form suggested it was a different big cat whenever I caught a glance of it. There were rock crags and cliffs that led to immanent death, and the landscape was in black and white and gray. I crawled up to one of the precipices and made a circle in the dust with the end of my pointed staff and crouched on all fours waiting for whatever was coming. I had visions of being mauled by the cat, and wanted to return to the base of the mountain where my mate was waiting for me, She didn’t know I had been hunted. I looked through the small loophole at the end of the rope on my staff and and just waited…
Some nights ago I had an intriguing dream that seemed to be trying to tell me something. I have been reading a lot of personal shamanic writings over at therioshamanism.com by the marvellous Lupa, and have been feeling a surging connection to the subtle forces that animals have in my life. It seemed only normal that the dream also involved another spiritual friend, from Austria, who feels the same reverence for natural awe as I. The dream did not last long, but because of it’s lucid nature, left a lasting impression on me. I was left pondering it for a couple days and decided to share it. It went as follows:
I am outside somewhere in what felt to be the pacific northwest, and there are bleak clouds overarching the sky. Kristina (friend) is helping me attach some elk antlers to the roof of a car for a trip. It was just a small car, like the Datsun style from Into The Wild. Then after mounting the antlers, I collect some horse bones and skull and start cleaning them, ridding them of dried flesh and some green lichen. Kristina starts to scold me and tells me that the bones/skull must be immaculately cleaned in order to keep us safe on our journey. There is a glowing aura around everything, like a veil of light permeating the air, despite the gloominess.
I rarely take dreams literally, but have read in psychological studies and through observations of my own dreams that at times they do seem to have a distorted but relevant meaning. I had just become familiar with the common symbolism of the horse spirit, representing travel. In Mongolia, the horse is their sacred animal that means the travel and has always given them protection. The elk antlers I have interpreted as the means for exploring exotic landscapes. Since the elk is such a majestic and elusive creature, it signified something grandeur to me instead of dreaming of just a deer. I have as of late been contemplating some of my own journeys, and possibly taking a trip to Norway. As well as being able to carry all my possessions with me to be able to move around more. This means I have chosen a somewhat solitary way of living and instead am veering towards being more hermetic, or vagabond. This can be lonely for some, so I find my company with the animals. By cleaning and looking after what was left of the horse/elk in the dream, perhaps this was a karmic way of saying they are better fit to protect me in rough situations.