A book marked only "Journal"

I had the dream again. I saw her, almost. She was there under the pink sodium arc-lights of our back parking lot, the keys in her hands, the snow softly falling. I stood in the door, a world away. I could have walked five steps and stopped her but I might as well have been on the other side of the moon.

I often think of that night. Would I have given up my self-respect? Would I have stopped and promised her anything if she had stayed? I know that if I had it to do over again. I would.

The dream haunts me. Like an old ghost demanding some kind of action, but I don't know what it wants, and it just keeps getting more insistent.

I write the dreams here, trying to make some sense of it. Sometimes, the dreams come true, but usually I only remember in the middle of it happening when they do. The fog will clear off and I will remember, "I know what will happen next..." and then it does!

Dreams are often fragment of unresolved mental energy. So sometimes they appear as prophecy, other times notes from within. The way I look at it is this:

There are three levels of consciousness, The Super-Conscious, The Sub- Conscious, and the regular everyday Conscious mind.

The Super is like a general. He is in touch with God, or whatever. He is directly connected in a way that I can't even conceive of... He's me and yet not me. If there's something to that reincarnation stuff, he is me, and every life I've lived as an amalgam. The Super knows the battle from the grand strategic level. He's got the whole of the map in front of him. He knows the path to victory on a scale that is beyond my own. As such, he doesn't actually give a fuck about the fine details.

The Sub is like the Captain in the field. He doesn't know the whole of the plan, but he does have his orders and a lot of additional information that the Super doesn't know. He doesn't know the map on the strategic level, but the hills and fortifications in the immediate area, he knows down to the inch. He understands the tactics necessary to take these objectives.

The Conscious mind unfortunately is the poor dumb grunt on the line, trying not to get killed and unable to fix his half-broken radio.

So, I try to pay attention to the dreams, because as near as I know they are the only way of knowing what's really going on. I once dreamt that my parents had been eaten by a rhinoceros and woke up screaming in my bunk bed. So, I pay attention but I am also leery of the information. It's a hard thing to realize that you aren't safe from mortal terror even in the safety of your own mind, especially at that age.

I dream of her, I miss her. My poor be-knighted limbic system is still thinking she'll come back. It doesn't know what the rest of the mind knows.

But if she did come back...Would I be any better? Could I reach any higher? I have to wonder. She didn't see enough potential in me, and now, maybe I am realizing that I'm not seeing enough in me either.

I often think to myself of what I would say to her, to keep her from going that last time. It usually runs something like this. "Do you know what I see when I look into your eyes? I can see the future. I can see a woman who's heart opens like a blossom. I can see twin girls, pretty like their mother with minds as sharp as the winter wind. Woe to the hearts of boys who cannot catch their endless love...and I see a man. He lives each day as if it is a blessing and goes to bed each night thanking God that he has known a love so deep. That's the future I see each time I look in your eyes...and I am so hungry for it to come true that I will do anything to make it start right now."

"Anything."

Tonight, I think I will have the dream again. Tonight I hope I can say it to her. 

Tonight...I want her to hear it wherever she is.

If I have any Magick at all...An it harm none, so mote it be.