Finally I have time to come back to this image.

On Monday I met with Lori and she did a process with me. Her processes generally involve her asking me questions about a subject that is making me uneasy that I asked for help dealing with. The point of the asking is to listen inwardly for an answer.

My answer to one of the questions was this:

Two figures on a plain. One is a woman warrior in full plate mail. She doesn’t have a helmet, and she has long blonde hair. The other is some sort of monster. Most of the monster is outside the image, and all that I see of it is three or four tentacles. They are fighting each other. They are dirty and exhausted and both spattered with blood.

My unconscious is, if nothing else, creative.

(more…)

“I am Shethged,” the warrior replies. “This is Vantoo. Now get out of the way. We are destined to fight this battle to a bloody end.”

“Really.” I turn to Ishmael, who has walked over to a safe distance. “They can lie to me?”

“You lie to yourself all the time. Incoming.” I hear the swish of the blade and I know I can’t do anything to stop it. This is going to hurt.

Except that I am surrounded by glowing pink energy, shimmery and translucent. I turn to see the warrior’s blade stuck in the pink energy. She is tugging at it, but the sword is stuck fast. I hear chuckling coming from the many-tentacled thing.

(more…)

Balthazar watches me put a canister on the ground. “What’s that?” He asks.

“Napalm.”

“Oooh dear. I’ll get Darzee.”

“I wasn’t planning on using it on you, you know.”

The sun is directly overhead, and the Oasis bakes. The blanket of heat is mildly comforting, but not enough to distract me. The Bonfire before me burns without heat. The symbol of fire is all I need, and it won’t throw off warmth until the sun sets. The river slinks by behind the Bonfire, quiet and smooth, looking to keep out of my attention.

(more…)