Warrens & Dreams

I spent the day [working], and it was cold this morning, so I did not do my usual morning journaling, but I am outside now at night, and it is quiet. The moon is out and waxing and bright, and I feel especially—“me,” myself, C-L L-C now. Elethis is clear to me, and I can feel the Morrigan and Dana—

—ah, I missed the night.

Somewhere nearby, a bell—

—the train mourns as it passes.

The world is silent—

My dreams have felt pensive from [work] stress—but I feel I dreamt of strange battles against the dead last night even as I wandered with soldiers in dark urban passages—there is an alluring, entropic glamour to urban exploration, to seeking through the ruins of [this area] for spoils and secrets—but why do I dream of such dim, grungy ways? I feel drawn to woods and trees, but I don’t dream of forests. I dream of junk-choked dark passages I’ve never really seen. Why? What have I seen that I’ve forgotten? What nest does my mind find itself trapped within? I hear now something like a cash register bell, or a bell you might ding, but I don’t know why.

—I can see the Otherworlds and Saiyûnor and Elethis and the surrounding Wilds—where is this labyrinthine squalor, this [urban decay] of the lower worlds? Where is it? I don’t see it while awake. It’s—under me?

It’s under me—I think. Passages and warrens that draw me down, into a—dreaming nest. They are the LW, but precisely what I’m not sure. It’s not the night world of Koranith—no, it’s close, just under foot, under the sky.

Look to the sky—that’s what I want to do in my dreams. Look up. Look to the skies.

But it’s underfoot, under soil, under buildings—and it’s where many find themselves in sleep. I’m not sure if it’s—[this-area] specific or not.

The gravity of the LW, of the dream warrens. I leave parts of myself there often—soul loss from dreaming—but why down there? What’s down there? I want to investigate, but in a more conscious manner than I have.

I want to breathe the night air of the Otherworlds in my dreams.


<- this is closer to the land, forks of water coursing through the earth, or which had

Draw Elethis into the Wyrd, into the isle of the soul—make yourself bigger, taller—

But the warrens—it’s like realizing you’re imprisoned at night in your dreams. Why hadn’t I—questioned?

But is it at night?

What about the walls & passages? I’ve glimpsed, well, Otherworlds—outdoors and vistas—

Image: Interior of the Railway Express Building at Buffalo Central Terminal in Buffalo, New York; by Derrick Mealiffe

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