Wolf Boy and the Sacred Tattoo Girl

I’ve been keeping a dream journal for almost a year now. Usually my dreams consist of totally boring things, like flying and doing exorcisms and turning into animals. There’s also aerodynamic weightless martial arts and bopping around the cosmos and the usual nightly grind like that, but every now and then I get a really exciting dream that’s about getting my homework done or doing errands. I mean, sometimes when I’m flying and fighting dragons and all that, I feel kinda left out of the fun…

A dream.

Walking a sunlit path in the mountains, I meet a little white-gold puppy who comes bounding up to me happily. As I walked by him he sat adorably on one hip, as puppies do, whimpering lovably for me to stay and play.

After cuddling him I continued walking, soon emerging from the trees’ thickest part to where a fence was the only boundary between me and the ocean. What is an ocean doing all the way up here in the mountains? A sign read, “WARNING: THE DEEP.”

I turned and there was the little puppy running to me. At this age he couldn’t have been bigger than a large house cat. He seemed of wolfish ancestry, with a pretty husky face and pointy ears, his eyes a brilliant clear blue. His fur was not white, not gold, but like silken, liquid sun on a clear winter’s morning, and feeling to my touch as thick as a sea otter’s fur.

In his mouth he was carrying a disc-shaped toy with luminescent patterns of stars glimmering brighter and dimmer. His toy is a map of the cosmos.

I knew that because of his smallness he wished for me to to carry him upon this frisbee like a boat. I lifted him to it and he adjusted the compass of the heavenly map with his paw.

We were back at my cabin now. A human friend was there, and as I introduced my canine friend I marvelous telescopes and similar instruments in my lodgings, pointed to the skies.

Suddenly, my pup transformed into a human –and how lovely he was! He appeared a boy not much older than his young teens; his face with slender eyes and high cheekbones, and the color of his eyes still blue and they were while a pup’s eyes, his hair the same liquid gold of his prior fur.

“The Inuits sent me to you,” he informed me with a bow. “I come bearing good news and great joy.”

Surrounding us now was an orchard of pink and white blossom trees in full bloom. A little girl appeared to me then. She was about six or seven years old, but very muscular and big for her age. In her hand she held a longbow, glowing with strange light. On her chest were intricate, sacred tattoos of humans and other creatures. There were blue, angelic markings of complicated circles, and the same glowing constellations as on the wolf-boy’s disc.

“She must not go outside without them, these marks of protection,” the wolf-boy told me.

“They are looking for her, and they will send a great tidal wave if they find her. They say not ‘if’ but ‘when’. Do not believe them. If these markings are with her they will not be able to see her. Yet it is also the only way they would know it is her. But they will not find her this way. Yet, if they do, the wave will devour all the blossom trees, all the mountainside, the high cloud-capped peaks, the villages and I and you. Guard her, for she guards you first.”

The girl smiled at me warmly and confidently, readying her bow. In my hand I saw I now had a bow, and I drew mine too. We looked toward the darkening sea.

 

 

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The Way Out

A dream.

In Hell there is a lonely tree transplanted from Heaven, and in this tree there is a way out. I am brought here to sit out on a branch of this grand holy tree and pray with songs. After rescuing souls, we go to visit a woman in a wheelchair. She thanks us for visiting her, the sick. We ask what else we can do for her but she says nothing.

 

 

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The Potter’s Wheel

Power be to the poet,
and to the child without voice,
and to the wrongly accused.
Power be to those who cry out
in word or in silence,
who knead bread from
the flour of unrest,
who do so sweetly.
Power be to the brave girl
and to the lost boy –
they are crowned in saving anger.
Glory be to the white furnace,
God’s hand on the potter’s wheel
who will not give up
making heaven
from dust.

 

 

–Gentle J. Pine

An Exercise in Snakes

A dream.

Part of the exercise, said Alexia, is this: a room full of snakes of many sizes, many huge and different colors. We are to lay among them, but see that they will not hurt us. “But you don’t have to lay among them if you don’t want to,” she said. “Lay with your rosary there, instead.” I saw there was a rosary giving out a blue light from its beads. All but one of the snakes would not approach it. The one who did had bitten the crucifix.

There are snakes on the floor between us and the way out. A woman in danger is by my side, and I must help her. The authorities are coming to take her to a terrible prison. We must cut off the heads of the snakes.

 

 

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The Wood-Bird

I dream of a wood-bird who is living, both animal and plant is its body. It is like an ostrich, but has wood and leaves for feathers. There is also a cinnamon bird, often mistaken for a guinea pig, as people want to subject the magical to their experiments. And there was a giant pelican, like a god; the power of this creature overwhelmed me in awe. This giant pelican does not like to be fully depicted in image. To look at it completely would blind you. If you see part of one, prepare for war of the celestial kind, for these god-birds are heralds. They may appear to you anywhere. I saw mine in a shopping mall parking lot.

 

 

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Fata Morgana Mountains

I dreamt I was looking out over an ocean, to the west I was looking, and the ocean stretched into infinity, but something lay between. There were the jutting outcrops of small mountains to my right and left, framing the eye’s sight as one sees when looking out from a bay. Not very far there appeared to be great mountains like the Sierras reaching into the skies. From the distance over the water I could see the details of their snow caps and hidden forests, and I knew at once that this was a land where no one on this side of the waters had been. Was it a Fata Morgana? A fairy’s mirage made to lead me into a trap? But my eyes were fixed. “It is the spirit mountains.” Said my friend behind me -behind me, where I could not see! Like a ghost. She whispered into the back of my skull. “Are they there, or are they not? They are there, but they are not you on this side of the waters to touch.” I remember her words clearly.

Soon others gathered around me, friends with hidden faces. The fragile docks undulated quietly on the banks of the dark sea. Night was coming.

 

 

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Vertigo Falls

Pulling stranded Otters out of tree-tops who got stuck there. I flap my newly grown wings to teach my friends, otters and humans, how to fly. But one human friend only wants to join the terrible skeleton army that comes from the sinking sands, in a no-good place under this one.

Now, in the hidden alpine mountains in north Canada; nobody knows they are here, kingdoms formed of leaf and rock. But now radioactivity has come to this place, and we must escape this poison. The skies are changing and vertigo falls on our senses. A black hole opens above us. Jets come rushing at us. The evil stars want to eat us. There isn’t enough oxygen in the atmosphere.

 

 

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Changeling Baby

I dream I am pregnant, though I had not been inseminated. And suddenly I am several months along in this pregnancy, the growth unmistakably visible. I come to a wise witch’s house who tells me I have been impregnated by the spirit of the land, the Green Man, who gets up to these antics. But everybody knows I’m in love with him anyways! I wouldn’t mind at all being his woman. Lady Witch says, “Let’s get inside, quick, away from the eyes of the fairies!”

The Chaparral Fairies are watching, but I am clever to be unseen by them. Pregnant with a changeling child, I walk a California coastal mountain into town to tell my friends. Night comes, and I sit on a stone bench and look up at the stars who are spiraling in a crown above me at a visible pace. What will I do with this kid who grows in me? Do the adoption agencies have the resources to handle magical powers in babies?

 

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Prayer-sign of Discernment Among the Strange Creatures

In a dream I found them in a playground, strange hominids, in a world mirror to this one, in latitudes of spheres. The playground was a copy of my fourth-grade year.

It began in an elevator, two unknown friends and I. We were ten again, but in body only. We meant to go up only a few floors, but the elevator rattled and sparked and shot up to two hundred floors. When we exited we met a man who was a terrible monster like a beastly fish underneath his human disguise. We could see his reptile skin showing through. Many more of these mutants appeared and we did not know who was to be trusted or not, though we knew that some were surely allies. Hands in prayer palm-to-palm over my chest, by this I knew how to tell who among the creatures is friend or foe, and I led my friends in this symbol, the power of discernment. And I found that I was another one of these strange creatures, too.

 

 

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