Magick In The Past

Date: 7/20/2019

My mother is teaching me magick. I thought I was learning a lot but she encourages me to read more books. She says reading a good amount is good but reading a large ammount is better. There are diamond tiles on the floor and each tile has a book standing on its end as she says all this. We are standing on a tree receiving a magick lesson. The lesson culminates in two people, a girl and a boy, getting whipped off and hung in nooses from the very limb we were standing on. It's startling but not as alarming as death would be. It's part of the lesson and they will be fine. ~ The Family is moving cross country, maybe across time as well. I am aware of them as they march out, I'm left in the backyard of a house we used to live in once. I think I'm a ghost. I watch them from afar, my mind stays with them. I'm very aware of what they do. I can't really be bothered to care except I worry about the animals in the heat. They travel through long stretches of sunshine. I'm very busy in the backyard. Tending animals, various plants and areas and things in the yard. It's very engrossing. I sometimes pop in the house when the owners are gone and watch over the little girl in the night. She is often sad, left alone so many time. In fact, I think the family left her too and she is the only one there in the house. ~ There is a warehouse next door which belonged to an old man long dead now. His creations were genius but now without him his company has failed, its practically deserted. It's just darkness and automatic machinery doing its job, sorting through everything. I walk around in between rows of machines peering at all the magnificent things. I want a few things I see very badly. Finally I spy a book I really want for the little girl next door. I speak to a female manager, pretending to be staff, and convince her to let me 'lose' the book. Apparently it will 'help' as 'we have to get rid of this inventory'. I also take a doll I used to craft via the machines. It's one of his dolls, his inventions, but it's modeled to a more modern rendition. I take it home to the little girl and give it to her with the book. She's asleep in her bed the whole time. The doll looks just like me with a doll which looks like the doll of me only more plush. But the doll wakes up, these dolls are sentient, and she freaks out seeing the modern update to her body. She's angry. I keep trying to tel her the little girl will recognize me better if she sees me in this outfit like I wore on stage, but the doll is too angry to listen. She is a doll of me. Of who I was when I was alive, but she is not me. She is a different spirit altogether and she opinionated.