Sleep Summoning

Date: 6/2/2017

I dream this whole thing over an ocean. I never went under the water, I don't even know if it was possible to, but it was as if the sea were the chessboard, the world, the TV screen, the movie set. Sometimes the ocean had grids, and i could see them and sometimes I walked on water. I was living and working on the ocean, perhaps it was at my father's bequest. I was often a girl, but more often than not huge and shapeless like some omniscient formless god. I was following a storyline with werewolves on an island who might also have been living inside the same aquarium as my last dream, but this time the whole of the island was the building which housed the ocean they lived in. The whole time I was dreaming I was writing a book, actually I was changing it. It had come to me, or it was mine, it was a Diary and not even half filled. On every page were sigils and shapes in the background as lighter colors. It had little words but the ones which rang textbook like. It felt wrong to read, painful, when I went over what was written there already I felt horrible about the thing. I cut and carved with a white murky raw crystal, just a single sharp edge, and cut out sigils here and there on every page, added words to the margin, magick words like spells. Once I'd finished it was a cut up book, like some mad pop up or something a child had gotten hold of, but it 'felt' better to read, less painful, more conciliatory and eased the pain of what had been very wrong. I did feel bad about defacing a book, but that was just ingrained respect of a lifetime book lover. I was also brewing a potion perhaps? It was difficult to say, it was in cups, one was a mug I do own in real life, and I was floating over the sea as I did it, formless once again. The cups all had thick liquid chocolate in them, and the one cup I actually owned irl had my reading tablet in it. The rest I was dipping fingers into and 'tuning' in a way. I was conversing with someone, during the thing, who was teaching me about time? Yes it was clocks and time, and how each race had its own clock and time you had to work with, which was what separated Realities so each race had their own. I say race meaning not skin color but 'other than human'. I was being forced to work with the werewolves by my father, the nameless voice in the sky. He insisted I learn lessons, it was training for later when I was a god. I regularly visited an island with old friends, who weren't werewolves, more cat feel to them but not cats, and the last time I saw a good friend there I lifted a hand to wave, excited to see her, but she ignored me turning away. I had orders from my father by then to work with the werewolves and I sighed, feeling rejected. The whole scene of this, I played with an angel fish swimming in the ocean, another old friend, who came up from the depths to see me and nibble quietly my fingertips. I was told, by my father, to go and join the werewolves, learn from them. I had to join their pack and be a part of it to understand, the whole potion brewing scene was about wolves, or so he told me. It was a elementary understanding of the thing but the best label he could give it just then. Finally he ordered me to go, and I turned the ocean to ice to walk the other way, I had other things to do than play with werewolves. They seemed fine on their own. Someone gave me a gift of pets, lizards of species I didn't recognize all beautiful and in cages in a dark room lit only by their heatlamps, there were a few incects too, bugs and the like. I accepted the gift but dispaired the lizards, they all must eat meat or crickets I thought. I knew I couldn't keep them, I was vegan, but I wanted to. I gave it a lot of thought trying to decide a good compromise for my soul and desire. I decide at last I'd have to go to Hogwart's and learn rudimentary wizardry, at least charms which conjured up dead bugs, so I could feed them that. If they were a magick made dead thing it didn't kill any real animals at all. I didn't plan to stay at Hogwarts long, just up to third year if that, or read up the stuff beyond that on my own. I was having a hard time with the book and people. I kept finding crystals with the cut of the sigils and shapes I made in the book on them. The crystals lined up perfectly if you placed them under the cut out pages. Twice this happened and I was thrown to a scene on a rock out in the middle for the stormy sea, a boy, a friend of mine, was drawn to me and the use of these. I told him not to interfere or come here, for some reason my proximity to this race made them sort of swell up red and hot and explode, like our bodies didn't get along in each other's presence, but he didn't listen. Twice I had to face his mother, after he had come close to dying trying to interfere with my exploration of the crystals. She chastised me, yelling over the sea surf, trying to warn me away from her son. It was understandable, I didn't want him to die by being close to me plus it was dangerous to interupt a ritual, and the first time she did it I told her I didn't want him there and tried to keep him away. The second time she scolded me I wasn't so keen to listen to someone who didn't hear me when I said I didn't want him here. The last time I had done this, I had come near him and he almost burst, dratted proximity thing. This time she was yelling and accusing me and I moved close to her, directly over red sigils in the rock jutting out of the sea, and instead of bursting her I lit up like on fire. My mouth opened and red light came out, my whole body lifted glowing with it, or maybe it didn't lift but I I answered her last question which was who are you, flung like a challenge. I was possesed, with far mightier a power than any mortal mother could withstand, and the name I gave her shook the ocean and blended with the traffic in the real world. I AM MABON. The last word was almost swallowed by the noise of the truck and the vibration of the entity possessing me. It woke me up with a start, I wish I hadn't been frightened by the possession, I wanted to know who he was. I'm not sure but I think I said my name was Mabon. It could have been Dagon which I would have understood more, god of the abyss which all that ocean represented. But I looked up Mabon upon waking and beyond being a Wiccan holiday, it was also rumored to be a god, a Celtic one? Something about the divine son within the divine mother. He's always represented as a war prisoner. Sometimes confused with an Arthurian legend. Sometimes he's a Saint, worshiped along with his mother. I need to research more to understand what he represents.