Currently preparing a road opening ritual for my dying great uncle (today) and his wife, who was brought into the ER with a stroke (last night), in case they need to find each other quickly. I wonder if they made a silent appointment with each other after he was released into hospice care last week. I want to believe this. I wish none of them the grief to be without the other one, no matter how brief that period of time might be. I want everything to align for them to the right time and it looks as if now is the right time. I kinda hope they can do this journey together, no matter where they will end up.
(Saturn is busy in this family)
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Dream log:
I am finding myself back inside of a tall hall with dark blue tiles all over. A stream of water is running in a clockwise direction inside a small artifical tiled channel on the ground and close to the walls throughout the entire hall. I had visions about this place earlier this year, when I was working on my Nafs, when I started to use the names of Allah on every Latifah inside of me. Back then the hall was empty and I wasn’t sure what to do with that vision or that place.
Now I am back and I find two shrouded bodies placed on the ground, a third shrouded one already in preparation on a stone table. This is a morgue, my personal hall of the dead and the third body belongs into the “soon to be dead” category of this family as well.
I open a door that leads into some sort of dining hall; I can see members of my family gathered there. One of my cousins notices me and asks me if I could make the waters turn backwards again. I tell her “No” and inside of my mind I add “not for you, that is.” Fuck her and most of them, mate. I will exercise my duty and not a thing more.
Before I had this dream I had a vision about Leraje and me standing on the rooftop of some sort of base. Missiles are starting from where we’re at and I can see him grinning underneath his neck gaiter as he tells me “Hagalo, (Name).”.
The vision stretches into the very thin before-falling-asleep-consciousness. The last thing I see is a white missile that we have loaded. Three red hebrew letters are written on it; I can not read hebrew but my ears translate these bits as “Ahad” (“Al -Ahad” is 67th name of Allah, “the sole/indivisible one”, not sure if this will be important for further Lataif workings). Before I fall asleep I scribble the heard name into my notebook, together with the hebrew letters as good as my memory and sleep will let me.
In the morning I discover that my scribbled BS is almost correct and that the missile was indeed reading 'echadh. “One”, semantically equated with being many parts, yet one. Like a unit thats made up from many bits.
TW for the squeamish ones around body fluids and functions of the female body 
I used a combination of lower chakra workings (Svadhisthana and Muladhara) and a bit of spirit help to force my body into early menstruation, the other day. An upcoming surgery in a few days would have been exercised at the same day where my red visitor would usually drop in and to be honest: I couldn’t imagine to feel that miserable on such a day 
I thought that I could certainly help it in some way, so I asked Leraje to kickstart the whole process when my lower chakras would be ready enough after a meditational warm-up. He and I have a peculiar history around spontaneous flood-like red occurrences since our earliest days and by now its a beloved running gag, “You remember, that one time when I profusely bled my guts out on my new sneakers in the basement of my coworker because of you?”, and then we both laugh. I went to the ER that day because I thought that I was going to die. Good old times.
Less gore, more focus now. When I felt both of my chakras getting “softer” (I can’t quite describe it in a better way) and flexible I asked Leraje to do his weird trick. In my minds eye there was this glass sphere hanging from a ceiling, filled with dark red liquid. I could feel something shooting a little crack into the bottom of this sphere, like a small rock that was fired from a slingshot. The dark red liquid began to drip through the tiny fissure, slowly.
Three days later and six days too early (which is not typical for me) I felt glad over the soul wrenching pain and the physical manifestation of this working. I won’t do this too often, since I don’t want to fuck up my cycle and my hormones. But at least I will not experience that dreaded “first day” on the surgery table and it makes me feel much more at ease. I am also a bit proud about the well timed manifestation of energy manipulation 
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We decided to pull the plug from my great aunt, today. My great uncle had a very fleeting moment of consciousness beforehand, mentioning how he would “shoot himself” if he would have to wake up without her. He slumped back into unconsciousness, treated for his pain but now without life-prolonging measures. We are currently waiting for their bodies to sync up, so to speak. I will try to ease both of them into their new journey and I hope that their essences will be able to identify, find and hold on to each other. I will ask Zuhal to oversee this process and to gently pull up the veil in between them and us.
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She made it. She passed at the same time I was shoved into surgery myself; before the sedatives hit I was having some kind of feeling. Yesterday the cards told me who would go first and it was her.
My great uncle will follow soon, either tonight or tomorrow. He will not live to feel the grief and I firmly believe that he knows. I believe that it will make him pass more freely, without being afraid that he has to “hold up” for her sake.
I will heavily work with Zuhal for this burial because I know that my family will make an absolute shitshow out of it. They are comically afraid of death and everything that touches that topic. As most of them are next in line I hope that this kind of corny way to leave this life will somewhat nudge them into a more sober mindset.
The third dead man walking must find a way to accept the concept of mortality, his mortality. Maybe I can include him in a way that starts this acceptance.
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Done. I hope that I will be physically more in shape by the second week of November, to strengthen the current endeavours in that regard. At the moment I am insanely frustrated about the amount of rest I am forced to have. Intellectually I understand that my body still needs its resources to heal the surgery wound and the anesthesia remnants but one can only lay around in different rooms of the house so much. I am a bit sulky because I couldn’t use the large fire bowl outside of the house for todays rituals; I am not allowed to take stairs or to stand for too long. (I can’t wait to have the suture removed, I can’t meditate fully relaxed like this )
Thankfully, burned bay leaves smell exceptionally nice to me; I burned them in my altar room, pulling the harvest of my work and my endeavours towards me and mine. The name فاروق / Faruq illuminated my mind all of a sudden while I inhaled the scent of the burned leaves. I suppose that this should serve as a reminder that I am always obliged to tell right from wrong when dealing with personal material matters.
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Dreamlog:
Being in a shoot-out with a man that started to go on a killing spree from seemingly one moment to the next. After having my right hand torn into shreds by the impact of a bullet that he was shooting at his daughter I was able to overpower him eventually. When inspecting the dead body I found a grimoire-like book. It was written in spanish, but not in coherent sentences but in words that had been pieced together randomly and without relation to another. From certain sentences I could see other sentences floating over the sheets; I couldn’t make out the language but the words had been written in spirals, with red letters. The spirals stood out to me the most and I think that they somehow activated the behaviour of the reader.
The father of the dead man was flipping through the pages briefly; he changed almost instantly and tried to attack the remnants of his family. I decided to take the book with me, to prevent any further damage. Sadly I can’t remember any of the sequences regarding the spanish words.
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Approx 1 hour of spontanous out of body session. I could feel my entire body while walking around in my own bedroom; I could even feel the stitches and the bruised areas on my foot with each step. I stayed inside the house with that session because I didn’t want to risk to walk around in less forgiving areas with the injury. But I find it peculiar how my foot was feeling the pain and how it didn’t bring me back into my body; I could carefully check back with myself laying on the bed but I could also return to every other spot of the house. I haven’t meditated or prepared anything for that. Maybe my energetic body is confused over whats going on with my physical body.
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While I am still in recovery from the surgery I was told that I wouldn’t be able to operate a car until well into December; therefore I asked my family to arrange the funeral of my great aunt and great uncle around one single week of December where I am not able to get to the funeral because I’d lack the designated driver (my partner), who is on a business trip in another country during that week. The burial place is several hours away from my home and there is no way I could make it in time with the little public transport infrastructure around this godforsaken place.
I might or might not have mentioned that my family consists mostly of absolute cunts and that I avoid them as much as I can for that reason.
So. Of course they pick the exact week for the funeral where I would not be able to attend; I wasn’t able to attend the funeral of my other great aunt this year because my parents decided to hide the date from me until very shortly before. They “forgot” to tell me. So this time I told them that this is not possible and that there should be a different week for the funeral to take place. My father (who hasn’t inherited the house of my great uncle, thats what you get for being an absolute cunt 
) simply tells me that if I couldn’t attend its “unfortunate” but also that “it is what it is”. While using my name as a bait to get a hold of an eulogist who wouldn’t travel that far for a job if it wasn’t for me. Or my affiliation with the deceased.
They clearly want to keep me out of the loop; its not as if they haven’t stolen inheritance money from me before and I suspect that they are currently trying to weasel their way into whatever is written in my great uncles and aunts testaments.
Meanwhile I haven’t told them that my partner suddenly got the info that his super important business trip will be postponed until somewhere in January for some reason (some reason = I had a little thought implant session towards his employer, to see if I could broker some days from that trip towards myself).
I will not let myself be kept away from my own duty in this whole situation.
But I will “forget” to tell them that. Surprise and stuff.
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I always wonder what kind or style of magic do you perform.
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If I had to strictly categorize it, with a gun to my head, I would probably answer something along the lines of dollarstore thaumaturgy and spirit work.
Honestly I have no fucking idea myself, though. I take something and see what it does 
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It seems very powerful and coming deep deep inside you. I am always impressed with what you can achieve with your magic and love particularly your style in your journaling
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I appreciate your words @mth_yesco 
I think that - as little as I contribute by the means of experience or deep knowledge or meaningfulness, unlike many other people of this community - my rambling participation can serve as a tale of hope. If Pariah can do it, basically everyone else can. I think thats pretty neat.
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I assume that by then you will be able to compile all your work in a book to make them remain for posterity
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Marking a half of a year of being sober. I would usually say “6 months” but rawdogging this reality for one half of an entire year sounds more impressive in my mind. In the meantime I had some experiences that could have easily pulled me back into the bottom of a bottle but I didn’t cave in one bit. I was a bit worried about soon to be expected festivities and its impact on my endurance but after basically speedrunning almost the entire “could lead to a relapse” Bingo card I feel very optimistic. I am actually looking forward to waking up the day after without the physical remnants
Thank you, Leraje. I don’t count the days anymore but every single one without that stuff is owed to your interference in the first place. This generational illness can fuck itself, mate.
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My incisions threads came out the other day and the whole procedure has left me with an abysmally swollen and pain sensitive foot (imagine you’ve broken all of your toes at once and you’re in that bruising stage that slowly and very perceptibly slides into the healing phase, with your nerves and damaged capillaries all over the place and you get what I am currently experiencing). Its a PERFECT specimen for a healing experiment, so off we go.
This time I decided to use a candle as a “pain eating device”, programming myself to let the pain melt into the wax that gets eaten up by the flame slowly but steadily. I had a small vision about the “pain” in question, it was symbolized by an iron star with a pulsing red core in the middle. In my mind I was melting this little thing in the candle flame. The pain is still there but it is mixing with physical numbness that comes in tiny sparkly waves.
A quick card reading about the course of this healing: Tree, Clover and Key. Yummy. I will let the candle burn tomorrow as well, I think I won’t benefit from feeling less pain too much in terms of resting myself otherwise
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Quick interim result for now: the blood flow of that foot got actually much better already. The pain feels more manageable and less intense. I will grumpily take it slow (holy fuck, some people actually live like that because they choose to, I am on the verge of going insane over the lack of exercise and daily activity 
)
A promising little start, lets serve the pain to that candle like a restaurant
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Dream log:
A former friend is visiting me at my old home. I am fond of neither. I decide to be as polite as possible to her while explaining that I am not really up for anything as I need to take care of my wound. She wants to have a sleepover and I halfheartedly agree. Later that night I find myself laying on the couch; my former friend is straddling me and she looks down at me with this weird expression that I have never seen before on her face. I tell her to cut it out, that this is hurting me and that I am not in the mood for whatever she has planned. She grins down at me and mocks me in a very strange voice “Oh, it hurts?” She rams the tip of a scissor into my right thigh and she feels so damn heavy, like she is made out of stone. I grab a chair from nearby the couch and smash it into her face. She rolls off of me; I ram the leg of the chair in between her eyes with a sickening crunch. This creature still looks like my former friend but as it is laying dying there is paper white skin taking over her features, like she is transforming to a… worm?
I limp out of the living room and pass the kitchen; a dude that I don’t know is waiting there in the dark for me. The power went out in the meantime, as it always does in such scenarios. He pulls me into the dark kitchen and attacks me with a large knife; I let it stab into my left upper arm while a searing hot pain pulses through me. He relaxes his grip around the handle of the knife a little, so I grab the blade with my right hand, breathe away the pain and gain control over the knife. He is much taller than me but the movement makes him stumble forward; I slash his throat open and get as fast out of the room as possible. I doubt that both of them are truly dead. The lucid part of my brain suggests to set fire to the whole house and I do so with the touch of my hand. A wall catches fire while I limp out of the hallway into the dark of the night. Fire has always been an effective weapon against this weird darkness in my dreams. Something pulls me out of the dream. I can feel a dull ache in my upper arm and my thigh.
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The pain has completely subsided sometime yesterday. It was so good that I could actually tolerate sleeping in my favourite position again, leading me to snooze in until well into the early noon. I haven’t slept that good since the surgery. I am tempted to move around more because of this but I know that this is not the most sensible thing to do. Pain eating candle + visualization: check.
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The many forced interactions with them the last couple of weeks stirred up old traumas and wounds and I already made an agreement with myself that I will cut off contact completely when all of this is done. This time I don’t care at all about who is about to die next or what needs to be taken care of. I will only respond to my legal obligations in the most minimum way. I will also be more open about this in my current environment, because keeping it in the closet has led me into some very weird situations (for example we recently had a family day at my company and some coworkers tried to be very helpful with planning extra hotel rooms for my parents). I will not let this situation silence me from a point of shame or discomfort any longer.
I had nightmares the last couple of weeks for every single night, each one about a segment of where I suppose certain things from my internal conditioning come from. Its hard to look at and its painful to consciously pinpoint the exact moment where things went to shit again. I suppose that this nights dream was some sort of “final purge” in response to the flimsy bridge that got burned yesterday. In this nights dream I was puking up lots and lots of blood; it soaked my clothes, the furniture and the carpet, it made the ground slippery, it flooded down from the sink. I just let it go, without any hurry or panic, without trying to control it, without trying to keep it inside of me. For a few seconds I thought about how this is the blood I was letting for them for such a long time and they still always demanded more. Here you go, mate. Have all of it.
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