When I went to bed last night, I went with the intent of meeting the Morrigan in my dreams. I didn’t use the quartz crystal like I had been, but instead just fell fast asleep. I had also been drinking. And what’s really strange is that these dreams seemed to be separate dreams, but they were all strung together like a series or like they belonged in the same storyline.

Warning: this dream sequence may not be suitable for small children, as it contains some dark and grotesque imagery and postulates. Parental guidance is strongly suggested.

I remember having this section of the dream before, whereas I don’t remember the others. I am walking down the drive of a large piece of farmland and I’m going towards this big white house. Someone is with me, but I’m not sure who. Inside the house is many, many rooms filled with coffins. The coffins are of all shapes and sizes and colors, and nothing is in them. Except that it seems to be extremely scary to me, and I don’t know why.

Now the next part of this dream is new. I open one of the doors and discover a little black kitten. S/he looks really thin, like s/he has been locked in there for the longest time, and is emaciated. I decide to take the black kitten home for Vern to have a companion, and to nurse it back to health, and the kitty warms up to me really nicely.

Now I’m back at home. The cat and Vernon are playing together. Vernon doesn’t like it much, but he puts up with it. I sort of read Vern’s thoughts, and he’d said, “I can’t stand him, but I put up with it because he’s a kid and doesn’t know any better.” I throw down an open bag of potato chips for the cats to eat. Vern starts in first, and then comes the kitty, barreling down a set of stairs, and jumps on top of Vern’s back, annoying the piss out of him. Vern pushes the kitten away and he shrugs it off. The two go to eating the chips.

Then weird shit starts happening. People become obsessed with finding this little boy for some reason, who, by the way, has never appeared in the dream. Anyhow, people become obsessed and start buying hundreds of radios, all exactly the same, little red, square radios with am/fm settings and an antanna, because there’s certain static that keeps telling people, “Find the boy.” Some radios, depending on where you get them, can tell you his general location/vicinity, which, I guess, happens to be somewhere around that flippin’ farmhouse. I never did really hear the information, though. I had a radio, too, but it was not the red one, and it sat on my kitchen table. I turned it on and listened really close and found nothing. But then I started turning stations on the am dial, and I finally caught a bit of a whisper, “Find the boy.”

So I’m in bed with my husband (who happens to look like Jeff Goldblum) and I psychically float hundreds of radios to his side of the bed using telekinesis, all stacked nice and neat, all of them broadcasting that one message, “Find the boy.” Goldblum doesn’t know what’s going on when he awakens, but he looks into a mirror on my side of the bed, sees the radios, and turns around to look at them rather spookily (you know that scene, the girl knows the killer is behind her, but she’s dumbass enough to turn around real slow, like the killer ain’t gonna’ see her turnin’ or something, or like he’s gonna’ go easy ‘cause she’s fuckin’ turnin’ around so fuckin’ slow).

So one or two people actually pay heed. I don’t ever actually see the boy, but whomever lives in that farmhouse gives away hundreds of thousands of dollars in meats to everyone who tried to find the boy.

Later, I pull a sirloin tip (one that the farm-guy gave us) out of the freezer, fixin’ to cook it for myself, when I look at it and the meat is really pink. I start feeling and smelling and I get the impression that the meat is human, and that I shouldn’t eat it, like the farmhouse dude ground up all the bodies from all those coffins or that it’s the little boy everyone has been searching for.

If you know who Morrigan is in Celtic mythology, then you’ll see a pattern in that dream sequence: it is very dark and Morrigan-esque, with its coffins, black cats, missing children, human meat and near-cannibalism, not to mention the psychic abilities to float all those damned red radios at once. Morrigan is the Celtic Goddess of witchcraft, darkness, spooks and so forth. She is said to have been called, “Phantom Queen,” which to me means, “Queen of the World of Phantasm,” but can also mean, “Queen of the Underworld.” And all of the lovely symbology in that dream sequence is very underworldly.

Oh, and at work yesterday, I kept thinking about a “sign” from the Morrigan that I either had encountered, or that I had been accepted as one of Her Priests (since I asked about it the other day). Well, while at work yesterday, sitting in my car smoking after I ate lunch, I saw two big black crows fly by, very close to the ground, and shoot directly over the fence in front of me, but not really high up from the fence. What it means I don’ know.

Last night, I went to bed with the intention of remembering my dreams. I also had the intention of dreaming of my White Tiger but I didn’t – at least not in that form. I’d actually forgotten what I dreamt about, but I now remember, after seeing a particular picture online. Here’s what it was:

I dreamt that me and (approximately) four other people were in an abandoned field of some type. Two of us were blowing up this balloon-type thing, but it wasn’t a regular balloon and it wasn’t a hot air balloon. We were actually using our lungs to inflate this balloon, and it was only slightly bigger than a normal one. It looked to be the size of a weather balloon.

Anyhow, we inflated it, me and this other guy. And then the dream flashed to us being in an airplane (I think, but maybe we were just floating up there somehow – there was no noise from any machine, as I recall). And then we jumped, hanging onto this inflated balloon. I said something about what I wanted to see (if not mistaken) and the guy said, “I don’t care; I just don’t like seeing the ground come up as I’m dropping,” or something like that.

Then, as I was expecting this huge thud or some sharp pain or something, I just landed on the ground as soft as ever. Didn’t even notice until I opened my eyes to see where I was.

The dream was in color. I was wearing that gray button down shirt and a pair of jeans, and I think my white tennis shoes. The other guy looked like Jeff from the kitchen at work, and he was wearing, at first, that black uniform shirt and a pair of jeans. The other two people I heard in the background I don’t remember, but I know they were there.

Also, I was sitting in a car at one point, attempting to blow up another one of those balloons so I could do it again. It wasn’t working and there was a hole in the balloon. A news person asked me how I liked it, and I told them that it was fun to do, and the company asked me to or some junk like that. And then they asked if I’d do it again, and I said, “I’m working on it because someone else called and wants me to.” I lied to them, and I don’t know why I felt I had to.

I had another dream, too, where I was in a school-like setting, I think it was. I didn’t have an ink pen, so I walked up the hallway looking for one and found Pat from work at a locker. I asked her if I could borrow a pen and she found one and handed it to me. And then something strange happened – it’s as if I were sitting in Miss Puckett’s old art class at Jessamine High, and there was this big empty space in the middle of the room where a housekeeping cart from work was sitting. A woman – not Miss Puckett; I don’t even think I knew the lady – came by and said, “Why is this in the middle of the room?” She looked at us sternly (there were about three of us sitting there) and then left. Strange, but that’s all I remember of that one.

As for the interpretations, I’d better leave that for now. While I could do it, it would take too long, I think, and I’m nearing time to get ready for work. The only thing I can think of anyhow for the balloon-dream is that I’ve maybe inflated something, or someone else has inflated something they’ve told me, but I can think of what that might be. Perhaps Jeff at work has inflated something that he’s told me, but we don’t talk that much, so I don’t see that happening. Or perhaps it’s the free-falling/skydiving that is important. Or perhaps I’ve inflated something and it will cause me to fall, but it will be soft landing. That’s too simple, though, and I’m not sure what it is that is so inflated it would cause me to fall.