These totemic dreams occurred as the Moon transited late in Gemini and my first house, on Sunday, September 4, 1988. By then, Merlin and I had passed a most eventful summer together.
Apart from three separate fainting episodes, the first of which happened on July 16, 1988, he had otherwise never been healthier. Everything that we had always wanted, to take the time to do, we managed that summer to do.
There was an added routine with Merlin’s regiment of taking two AZT pills, every four hours, around the clock. With Merlin’s return home from St. Michael’s Hospital, the discipline of recording my dreams had begun in earnest that past late spring.
Merlin would be rehospitalised at the end of 1988, at St. Michael’s Hospital. There had been an early detection of what would prove his second bout of pneumocystis.
It was then that I would begin recording the dreams on audio-cassettes. While Merlin sat lost in the pleasures of morning coffee and the newspapers, large notebooks were previously used to make notes on awakening.
Merlin initially asked me to share my dreams with him each day on waking. He too was starting to have many dreams which, for the most part, he chose not to share. There thankfully were many exceptions.
Merlin suggested that I write down my dreams as he felt that they would prove invaluable down the road. The method, we had agreed to, would soon change due to Merlin’s observations.
Merlin, ever tactful, revealed that he had a hard time deciphering my florid script.
“Besides,” said Merlin, “if you audio record your dreams, you will get more – you will not be fully awake…”
As ever, Merlin’s advice would prove invaluable. Being able to share my dreams with Merlin was a beautiful complement to his nightly sharing what he read as he had concluded reading yet another book. This had been a nightly occurrence during the course of our relationship.
Always before sleep we would spend curled up in bed with Merlin sharing his just-concluded literary adventure with me. Merlin never abandoned a book, more than that, I never once heard Merlin dismiss a book as a waste of his time.
Now, on awakening, it would be my turn to share of my marvellous adventures in the dreamtime with Merlin; he rather valued hearing of my dreams. Each day after reading the newspapers and having his coffee he would begin reading my dream notes.
At other times, he would discuss the dreams at dinnertime. Merlin would spend time, while I was at work, reading the dreams and later listening to the audio-recorded dreams on tape.
Alas, here are the very intensely lucid potent dreams experienced that day – Sunday, September 4, 1988. These dreams signalled a major shift in our relationship.
These dreams proved the seminal dreams of my Saturn Return, indeed, of this incarnation. I was being initiated. I was being awakened to the magus within thanks to having been mentored by Merlin.
These dreams served as a preparation for the devastating betrayal that Merlin was about to suffer. It was a betrayal which truly changed his life – our lives together.
The dreams began with me having total awareness of all my senses. With Merlin on my right, we were walking along perfectly harmonised. We were under a large red and white circus tent. There was lots of straw on the sandy ground.
High up my sinuses, there was a heavy methane bite. At that point, I was reminded of my troubled sinuses elsewhere – in the waking state.
I marvelled to myself at the different animals which I couldn’t see. I could, however, distinguish each species from the varied smells of manure.
As he always does when we walk together in the waking state, Merlin was broadly talking – mostly as a way to deflect the distraction of people’s hostility to our outré sexuality or disparate races.
He remarked that he had brought me here because he always loved the circus; they were so much fun. Too, said Merlin, there was the odd chance that there would be a magician.
He beamed and mischievously winked when adding the last thought. We were, incidentally, being exclusively telepathic.
Continuing on, we walked along the straw-covered path. I was enjoying the underlying currents of pride and affection in his voice as distinctly heard in my mind.
High overhead, the red and white, big top was being soaked to the threads. In what was obviously a cloud-naked sky, the intense, midday Sun unrelentingly blazed down.
There were tents and stalls of all colours, on either side of us, I noticed as we progressed. As I let my gaze rise, from time to time, I could see that the tents were all of the same large, peppermint-striped schemata.
For the attention Merlin was paying me, I was aglow with joy. Too, thanks to my love for him, I was aglow. It was so real, so intimate, being alone with him.
Most importantly, I was pleased as all hell that unaffected was Merlin by the madness that had befallen his waking state body. Too, Merlin was taller.
He wore a sexy Panama hat which he was so fond of wearing on birthdays and special occasions. Too, he wore a sky-blue blazer that actually fit him. Merlin wore white slacks that comfortably sat on the crest of his tan, leather shoes.
The image of him was so warming that it made the dream moment last a lifetime. I passingly smiled when thinking of how not unlike the very dapper, Carl Leroiderien he seemed.
He was as well-dressed as I would have liked – in our waking state lives. However, my few attempts in that direction he had consistently resisted.
As this was the dreamtime, just like that, Carl joined us. Like Merlin he was handsomely dressed and he was also wearing a blue blazer with cream-coloured rather than white slacks.
I allowed the two to visit which they telepathically did. I was warmed by their communion of spirit. I had graciously moved to the left and allowed Carl to walk in between both of us.
Carl’s visit lasted no more than a dozen steps and then he was gone. Merlin and I returned to walking side by side and being telepathic.
We then came to a tent, off to Merlin’s right. Merlin’s pausing had made me look up. He beamed down at me with his customary, open-mouthed, silent grin. High above smiling eyes, Merlin arched his brows.
Gesturing, Merlin pointed up to the sign over the entrance. On a yellow board, there were a couple of stars that flanked a couple of playing cards. In turn, the playing cards flanked a large, crystal ball.
Merlin’s illumined face bore traces of a precocious, obstinate childhood that his parents and friends had many times lovingly shared. While holding up the entrance’s thick, red, velvet flap, he ushered me inside.
From the glare outside, it initially seemed like an ocean of still, cool, black light. The heavy flap noisily dropped behind him.
Merlin then soothingly placed his left hand on the small of my back. The silence grew less stark. Just as I began making out the tent’s spacious periphery, I heard a voice.
A soothing contralto, her voice seemed to pull her face into manifestation. A large wart sat high on her left cheek. Throughout her face, wrinkles crested like strong waves breaking across the face of the high seas.
Leaning forward over the black, velvet-draped, round table, earthy hands invitingly gestured. Small, fat hands offered stubby, little fingers with each sporting a large, luminous, silver ring.
I gave Merlin a look that said,
‘This is most clichéd,’ as if this entire dream were a magical weave of his.
He accepted my teasing and graciously offered me, on one of the two empty ottomans, a seat.
Thick, bushy, black brows stood independently arched on her ample forehead. Thus they made quite a display of her eyes. Large and direct, her eyes had a life that betrayed the rest of her face – august and soulful.
Never before had I seen eyes so richly blue – they were a deep-lapis lazuli, pushing towards royal-purple. As the brown of the eyes of most peoples of African descent are, hers were solid and soulfully sublime eyes.
Unlike the usual, luminescent, glass-beaded look of some hazel or blue eyes were they. Her eyes were warm, familiar and the source of life itself.
Her stout face matched the ample-bosomed body that she wore. She was crowned in a turban of black with intense stabs of red, purple, blue and yellow. It matched her dress.
In between her outstretched arms, hovering just above the tabletop, there was a large, crystal ball. At its centre was a blue ball of light. I smiled and following Merlin’s directive, I sat down. Merlin joined me on the left.
Merlin nodded to me and thereby invited me to begin. So, off I went. Turning to her, I began sharing much with her. I told her that, in the waking state, I was experiencing significant allergic reactions.
I mentioned the pollen-rife winds at this time of year. Just then, as I spoke, I recalled that I had also powdered the cats to control their fleas.
As I spoke, I found myself saying things as if another part of my totality were giving this medical history. As I shared my medical concerns, with this earthy woman, I made an unsettling realisation.
Whenever I approached Merlin, in the waking state, my allergies would flare up. The allergies would become so acute such that it would make my being next to him almost impossible.
Her eyes open, cast off in the distance to the entrance and beyond, her voice came back in a heavy boom that declared,
“Yes. This is because you’re experiencing acute fear over this one…” she gestured to Merlin, “…leaving. This is one manifestation of your jealously.” her accent was a smattering of Israeli and Russian.
I raised my brows as though questioning her accuracy.
“Your jealousy is largely denial. A way to emotionally delay the task you’ve chosen. You doubt now, in the body, if you can complete the task’s full agenda.
“Your task mate is fully trusting of you. You focus too much on the other players. They’re incidental, nothing more. However, you’ve come to a juncture. You fear… letting go of the past…”
When she said the word ‘past’, there was great weight to its enunciation. Simultaneously, while my eyes remained open, I experienced a series of rapid images that were more lived than perceived.
Each image lived gave me a ready wealth of knowledge. The whole thing was experienced in the breath between words, as she spoke, but it left me fatigued.
“…is all you have to do.” she paused.
I was reminded of James Tramble by her use of language.
Her words were clearly spoken and the effect on me was weighted. There was a lingering echo effect, in this most lucidly progressional of dreams, with each of her words.
Although she was about to continue, I interrupted her. I fixed my gaze on Merlin’s chestnut-brown eyes, a colour they never were in the waking state, when interrupting her,
“However, I have wanted to get on with it…” by which I was referring to my spiritual expansion.
“…However, there have been times… times when I’ve been afraid that my selfishness would leave Merlin behind…”
Merlin warmly smiled at me. His eyes radiated a warmth and agedness that reminded me of his transitioned self, weeks earlier, in the rhapsodic vision of Saturday, July 23, 1988.
It was the same warmth and agedness as his eyes wore during our initial, dream encounter, years earlier, back in July 1978.
“However, you know that’s not true. He’s already begun his part of the task. He is patiently awaiting your decision.” having none of my winded chatter, the occultist broke in.
“I do.” I said, being almost hypnotised by my lover’s gaze.
I thought then how much this ceremony and my eagerly saying, “I do” took on shades of a betrothal.
“Shall we then?” her voice was a near-whisper.
It was as though she hated having to interrupt the exquisite intimacy that was our timeless dialogue. As I looked into Merlin’s eyes, so many dreams of high moment with him, that we had shared, softly surfaced in a trickle of the sweetest emotions.
She offered her palms and I immediately shot a glance to her other palm. I saw that the look was identical. Three circles, of different sizes, sat inside each other. There were no other lines in her stout, babyish palms.
On placing our hands in hers, I was amazed at the soft, chilled feel of her. This chill did not betray the warmth in her eyes and voice.
However, this was a dream and I was fully aware that it was such. More than that, nothing of the energies gave me reason to fear. Besides, Merlin was with me.
Instinctively, Merlin and I reached for each other’s free hand. We had chosen to keep one hand free of the tabletop.
“I’m honoured to serve you both. I wish you continued success.”
There was a pause and together we took a deep breath – long, hard and even – as if we knew it was the next step. I felt the fear dissipate with my expiring breath.
As we breathed out, the blue ball of light at the centre of the crystal expanded. The expanding, blue light seemed to draw its strength from our expired breath.
The blue light instantaneously expanded and radiated beyond the crystal ball to engulf us all in its blinding warmth.
Seamlessly shifting, the dream continued on. Merlin and I found ourselves together in a large, cathedral-like hall. The ceiling here was in excess of one hundred and fifty feet.
On either side of us, there were windows along the walls. We stood side-by-side. The light coming into the small, round windows, which were close to the ceiling, was an intense white.
The light suggested that there were two stars in the sky. This light was not unlike water in its ability to form shards of undulating light.
As the light coming through the left bank of windows was inclined about 20° and towards us, I was inclined to think that there were two stars.
On the right, the light was as intense but fell casting longer shadows. These shadows were inclined at about 60° and away from us. The massiveness of this place was truly impressive.
It was unlike any structure, anywhere, in the waking state. This cathedral-like hall resounded with an agedness and historicity which, in the waking state, were also unfathomable.
We were met by the slow approach of a tall, lean figure. His fine, silver-white, long hair gracefully wafted from his head. Too, his long beard gracefully flowed from his face.
The effect was winning. This man’s tawny complexion was handsomely highlighted by the stars’ luminescence. I was warmed by the look of him. He bore a passing resemblance to Merlin and, even more, this warmed me.
We both instinctively knew who he was. He was magus – master-dream magus. Clearly, we were in the presence of a king soul – the magnetic, old king to whose realm we belong.
Merlin, now on my right, again took my hand and squeezed it. The fine man’s face was thin and longer than Merlin’s. The magus’ eyes were warmer, gentler even, than my lover’s.
As he drew closer, I noticed that about his refined, long-fingered hands, there was a thread of white light. This mysterious thread of white light dangled down and joined a miniature, crystal ball. The crystal ball bore a ball of white light at its very centre.
The master-dream magus wore a long, flowing robe. His robe was fire-engine red, of a velvet-like fabric that was so soft that it seemed to independently billow like a body of water.
The hem, the bateau collar and the wide, flared sleeves were bordered with a glowing, golden thread. Patterns of stars, spheres and hieroglyphics, of a design not native to any culture in the waking state, were woven by the glowing, golden thread.
Awestruck by his beauty of spirit and power, Merlin and I gasped. The master-dream magus before us emitted supreme power. His aura bled away from him in a spherical manner. Experiencing him was rapturous.
Once within arm’s length of us, I saw that the great master proved not as tall as I had anticipated. I observed that his were the warmest, papaya-seed-succulent, brown eyes.
The irises were encircled by an amber-gold that radiated outwards. These were the most sensitive and soulful eyes I had ever seen. I was immediately drawn to him.
Hands clasped, inclining his head to the left a bit, he extended the tips of his fingers towards us and slowly bowed. We repeated his gesture of deference towards us.
Merlin, however, had begun the gesture in kind before I had. When I raised my head, the magnetic, old king’s head was still lowered. When the master-dream magus finally raised his head, I noticed that his lids were closed in a prayer-like manner.
More than before, with closed lids, his resemblance to Merlin was uncanny. Slowly, the magnetic, old king opened his eyes and then he spoke – softly, in a familiar tone,
“I’m glad we meet again.”
His voice had the same effect as the Babushka-like lady’s whom we had encountered in the previous dream. I again got a good look at his eyes and, not unlike his aura, those utterly beguiling, powerful eyes radiated a light outwards.
I did not feel leaden – as when I had encountered James Tramble, on Tuesday, July 12 and Wednesday, July 13, 1983 – the master-dream magus was though spatially leaden.
The master-dream magus, indeed this magnetic, old king before us had warped the space about him – much like some high magnitude, white, dwarf star would the space about it and that of its closest neighbours.
Since I was so stunned that any of this was happening and that it was happening so vividly, I simply smiled and nodded to him. Merlin began retreating. More than before, I felt drawn to the manifestation of power the short distance before me.
Seeing my concern, the master-dream magus before me added,
“You’re to be cleansed. It’s a healing ritual. He won’t be far.”
“I promise.” Merlin negotiated as he retreated, without walking, further behind me.
Up a flight of worn, aged, stone steps, I next found myself stepping backwards. I sat back, on a bed, as the master-dream magus patiently looked on. My actions were seemingly guided by his will.
Edging my way back, I realised that the bed was considerably inclined. I waited. The magnetic, old king played with the thread of his light-bearing, crystal ball.
Spatially grounding myself, I checked and looked to validate that there were also two posts at the other end of the bed. His eyes, which had never experienced time, patiently waited.
Finally, I laid back into the plush, large bed.
On making his way up to the foot of the bed, the exalted-dream magus allowed me a comfortable look at him. As he drew closer, how like that initial dream encounter with Merlin in July 1978I this seemed.
Drawing on an unusually long breath, the king soul raised his chin and brows. His beautiful eyes were now half lost to those utterly beguiling lids.
I telepathically felt his touch. It was warm, intimate and probing, his spirit completely possessed me. He looked down into me with a benign expression that was so hypnotically unfathomable that I magically felt time slowly drift, to hover, suspended about him.
My every thought was exposed. I was rendered as familiar as the favoured, fire-engine-red, gold-threaded cloak enrobing his body.
The light of the two stars, that were flooding the massive hall, instantaneously collapsed. The windows were simply and expediently eaten by the grey-white walls. The exalted-dream magus, my healer, spoke in a rapid, heavy tone.
It was a tongue that was sung and which, somehow, though more African in its cadences than not – I knew it was not. Repeating the brief introduction after him, as he nodded instructing me to, took the experience to a new level.
As I looked at his partially closed lids, that partially veiled the potent power of his eyes that slowly shifted their shape and intensity, I had a vision.
At this new level, I was able to feel my body lying in our Cabbagetown, Toronto bed. The cats were absent from the room while I slept next to Merlin with him snoring away.
I simultaneously experienced the ritual of whatever this ancient tongue invoked – a ritual of which I found myself too trusting. I was alone in the open where I stood on a plain.
Here, I was in a secondary dream body. The grass below my naked feet was warm and zinging with the life of the intense, blue light that oceanically flooded the place.
I next slowly rose into the air and then began moving forward in the unusual, upright, flying position. Beyond the blinding effect of the intense light, I could see a tree up ahead.
This singular tree was more colossal than any red oak, redwood or baobab imaginable. Eventually, I came to hover above the tree.
This immediately reminded me of the experience of spatially travelling during the ecstatic experiences of Boxing Day, 1972. The exalted dream magus, as my guide, telepathically instructed me to keep my focus on the tree at all times.
“It is a source of healing.” he declared.
Using that ancient, choral tongue of his, he then continued on. As I repeated, a blinding, blue-white light seared through me. When the searing light was extinguished, the colossal tree appeared halved as though it had been struck by lightning.
The right half of the colossal tree, the shamanic magus telepathically shared, was to cleanse me. The right side of the tree was full of light.
The left half which appeared ill, withered and embalmed at the trunk, he intoned, would absorb the impurities I would dispel. He continued droning on and I repeated after him.
Then he got to a line that, somehow, I could not fully get because of its complex phrasing. I tried but knew that I was off. He repeated the phrase.
However, I began doubting; I wondered if, at all, I wanted to be doing this thing. I paused, afterwards stubbornly repeating but I hadn’t made much effort to get it that time.
‘What was all this anyway?’ I wondered.
‘Was this not the occult? Who knows if I was selling my soul to the dark side, in spite of all this light and glory?’
Despite how much I enjoyed playing the role of lamb for Merlin, in the waking state, I had no ambitions of finding myself as anyone’s sacrificial lamb… in any dimension.
Then again, I knew that there was no way that Merlin would be engaged in anything sinister or have sinister intentions towards me.
After his third attempt, I repeated the phrase again. There was hushed silence with the discomfiture of an impasse.
Off to his right a form appeared, in back of the exalted-dream magus, in the now darkened room where I laid on the inclined bed. On close inspection, it proved the very familiar visage of James Tramble. James smiled and encouragingly bowed at me, as if to say,
“For God’s sake, let’s not be difficult, Arvin.”
Tight-lipped, the exalted-dream magus shrieked the phrase at me. This time, the exalted-dream magus’ tone was physically painful.
James retreated back into the shadows from which he had emerged. I dutifully came back and properly spat out the phrase.
My response was more out of fear of the magnetic, old king’s rage than anything. With that, the process was at once begun.
The exalted-dream magus abruptly turned around on his heels and retreated with the robe majestically billowing after him. My mind focussed on the tree, simultaneously, I telekinetically managed to insert an empty clay pot into its clay tray.
Clay pot and tray sat inverted, like a fly on the ceiling, directly over my primary-dream body which laid in a trance on the raised bed of the now-darkened, windowless, cathedral-like hall.
The inverted, empty, clay pot and tray defied gravity being held in place by my bidding. Two more empty, clay pots, each with a tray, magically appeared on the ceiling.
Thus the wounded tree, of my inner vision, began bleeding its healing light energies to me. The light rose up from the tree’s right half. The light was cool and full of power.
Effortlessly, it pierced through my airborne, secondary-dream body. Next, the light crossed dimensions and moved down through the three empty, clay pots.
The light fell the short distance, in the darkened hall, crashing into the abyss of my reclining, primary-dream body.
Slowly, the three clay pots rotated counterclockwise. The three clay pots noisily rattled while bathing me with the white light that they spilled. The feel of the light proved a cool, soothing drink.
As it showered me from head to foot, the light had a tingling effect on my body. Interestingly, my head, solar plexus and sex were being favoured.
It was a beautiful, invigorating experience.
Soon, the experience shifted. Next, I witnessed the decrease of the light’s flow from the tree’s right half.
While I laid lucidly dreaming these most potent of dreams, I – now astrally projected away from my primary-dream body – watched the shell of my primary-dream body on the inclined bed instantaneously bloat to a size not possible in the waking state.
I then experienced a sharp tugging sensation at my solar plexus. Next, my bloated, primary-dream body lying alone – minus Merlin – began levitating. Up towards the three empty, clay pots, that remained inverted on the ceiling in their trays, I levitated.
Headfirst, I slowly rose making my way up to the triad of inverted, empty, clay pots. As I cautiously peered up, from my levitating, bloated body, I could see that the empty, inverted, clay pots seemed to look into a bottomless pit.
Merlin’s body, lying asleep next to mine in our Cabbagetown bed, turned during sleep. With an absent familiarity, he sleepily placed his right arm across my entranced and spatially hyperaware sleeping body in the waking state.
The three reddish, inverted, empty clay pots then began rotating. This time, they rotated clockwise and more noisily than before. As though caught in the vortex of their motion, my primary-dream body began circling in the air over the inclined bed.
My feet dangled after my primary-dream body while in this larger, dream bed, within the massive hall, I circled at increasing speeds. The walls were distant and featureless with neither windows nor doors.
My breath exploded in an exhausted exhalation. Simultaneously, my body became diminished in size. The breath left my primary-dream body at the crown chakra. The breath took with it the light that had filled me up.
This was power on an order not often encountered in the dreamtime. Yet I wasn’t afraid that this would, somehow, lead to my passing.
As Merlin needed me in the waking state, the fear of death did not surface. Thereafter, no disturbance occurred in the progression of this most vivid and layered of dreams.
Up into the three inverted, empty, clay pots, the expired breath of light energies were readily sucked. Through my secondary dream body, it then made its way out.
In the sustained, inner vision, the expelled light hovered above the wounded tree which stood beneath my secondary-dream body. After having passed through my secondary-dream body, the light made contact with the tree’s listless left half.
The light leaving my hovering, secondary-dream body was less intense than that which the tree’s right half had imparted to me. The experience, of being magnetised to the three inverted, rotating pots, gave a sense of the power of this massive tree.
I felt, at once, liberated and empowered by this fusion with the light energies that poured to and from this tree. When it was ended, my sagging and exhausted primary-dream body fell to the inclined bed.
Through the eyes of my hovering, secondary-dream body, I watched the left half of the tree undergo further metamorphosis. This occurred after having received the spent energies from my bloated, primary-dream body.
The tree’s left half slowly rose and righted itself. After the tree’s withered, nude branches sprung to life, leaves full of life magically sprouted by the dream moment. The movement was graceful and sustained.
This was a rebirth. New life was breathed into my drained, primary-dream body lying foetal-positioned on the inclined bed. As I gathered my strength, I looked up to the ceiling.
I saw that I was alone. Too, I saw that the three inverted, empty, clay pots had disintegrated. They were gone – just as was the shamanic, exalted-dream magus.
In the ocean of intense, platinum light, the tree beautifully swayed. The thrilling effect of the healed tree sent my hovering, secondary-dream body crashing upwards.
At great speeds, I crashed across dimensions where I finally fell and made contact with my primary-dream body. No longer astral-projected to the inner vision, I grew more focussed in the body while curled up in the foetal position on the inclined bed.
Fully revived, I sat up in the bed. Now my secondary-dream body and astral-projected self, in the room, were harmonised within my primary-dream body. I nimbly slipped down over the edge of the inclined bed.
I was shocked on noticing that the four posts, which turned out to have been huge candles, had considerably burnt themselves down. The sight of them readily sent me off the bed.
I protectively wrapped my arms about my stomach. I thought,
‘I’ve been cunningly served up as so much black magic fare.’
Feeling boyishly vulnerable while ensconced in this womb of a place, with no way to birth my way out of this scenario, I ran away from the bed. I thought of calling out to Merlin,
‘Where was he anyway?’
However, for fear of the magnetic, old king’s return, I decided not to. The latter had already exhibited a formidable rage and it had terrified me.
While standing at the foot of the steps, I turned to look at the candles one more time. I then realised that they were warming and that they were, instead, a source of healing.
I soon realised that so much of my response was being coloured by the Arvin, lying in bed next to Merlin at 20 Amelia Street, who was fully aware that he was actively engaged in the dreamtime.
There was so much transference from my waking consciousness, acculturated by the all-pervasiveness of Judeo-Christian, fear-plagued nihilism.
Sensing that I was not alone, I turned around. I was met by the reappearance of the exalted-dream magus. On his return, his energetic power was more intense.
Walking towards me, in the centre of the massive, darkened, candlelit hall, his red cape billowed after him. It was cavalierly tossed off the shoulders to reveal the gleaming, silver, chainmail suit he wore.
Adding a steely strength to his otherwise gentle, bearded, ruggedly handsome face, a large, silver helmet crowned his silver-white head. Covering his strong aquiline nose, the exalted-dream magus’ helmet had a nose guard.
The nose guard further accentuated the exalted-dream magus’ magnetic, soulful eyes. At the centre of his chest, there was a red patch with an insignia. The look immediately reminded me of the Crusades.
On closer inspection, what seemed like an inverted cross turned out to have been an upturned sword. The sword glowed with a soft, white light.
There were three small, crystal balls on the insignia and they also glowed. The three crystal balls formed an upright pyramid that enclosed the sword. The white light at their centres pulsated in unison with the sword’s light.
Stopping at the same distance from me, as he did on his initial approach, the exalted-dream magus greeted me as before. The exalted, warrior-dream magus’ timeless face broke into a trusty smile that was full of smouldering, sexual magnetism.
Merlin returned as well but as he approached, I did not feel at all comfortable. Merlin wore a matching smile to the master-dream magus’. It was a smile that I knew only too well.
As I looked away from him, to the inclined head of the warrior-dream magus, I realised that there was still more to come.
Just when I thought that the ritual – of being cleansed and made whole – was done, there was clearly more to undertake.
At this point, I began experiencing this leg of the dream from my primary-dream body as well as transcendentally. That is to say that I was as though out-of-body, from the vantage of the ceiling and always to the rear of my primary-dream body.
Again, my awareness had become astral-projected. This was much as it had been in that dream, of Thursday, July 7, 1988, when I observed my childlike body. Of course, then I excitedly ran to the cetaceous totem of the dream magus Merlin, after claiming it to be me.
After having congratulated me, the exalted, warrior-dream magus placed both his hands on his chest over the sword. In a movement that was possible nowhere but the dreamtime, he pulled the sword from the insignia on his chest.
Stunned, I drew back at the fierce action of the movement. Breaking away from his chest, the sword came to life and grew larger and lifelike by the moment.
The master-dream magus forcefully tugged free the massive sword from his chest where it had clearly resided. There was no blood…
Once free of his chest, the chainmail kept concealed whatever signs of the sword’s entry and exit there were. Raising it by the tip, the kingly warrior-dream magus offered me the large, gleaming sword.
I abruptly declined; both my voice and body cautiously retreated.
The warrior-dream magus drew closer and used that stern edge to his voice that reflected his impatience. This time, he would thrust the sword to me.
Even though a sword, it was clearly made of white light. Nonetheless, the idea of armour and weaponry turned me off.
I started stepping up the steps, to the bed, backwards. At that point, Merlin came forward to negotiate,
“No Arvin! Don’t be afraid.
“The sword is yours, go on, take it…” he was now between the exalted, warrior-dream magus and me while standing at the foot of the steps.
I said nothing. I was still focussed on the warrior-spirited, kingly dream magus and his gleaming sword of light.
Silently from above, while astral-projected, I observed the scene with the objectivity and detachment associated with that perspective. My arms were protectively folded to hug my stomach.
All the reservations that I felt were visible on my face. When looking down from above, I could see that I seemed the least adult of the three. Indeed, my body was frail and boyish.
“Arvin, it’s time you took it, it’s yours. The time has come for you to shoulder some of the weight in this relationship.” Merlin said, in a tone that uncannily mirrored his waking state self.
The pause, affected by my denial, the warrior-dream magus skillfully absorbed by further negotiating,
“You see Arvin, this is your choice. Don’t be afraid. You have to take it. Now that you’ve been cleansed, the only way to stay protected is to wield its power.
“And it’s not just for you. Merlin wants you to do this on his behalf.”
The exalted-dream magus’s voice was now more meltingly seductive in its deep, resonant, powerful and considerable, sexual magnetism.
“Go on, Arvin; I believe fully in you.” Merlin put in.
“This is a life that you have chosen; that is why ‘James’s is with you when you need him. Few would choose a life devoted to the search and fewer still do know the power it brings.
“And I might add, you would not have chosen the task, if you did not have every intention of seeing the task through.” the warrior-dream magus assured, his eyes hypnotically bleeding into me.
“However, there are no guarantees.” I found myself engaged without hesitation.
He smiled… I smiled. I laughed in the end when realising, at that point, that my heart was no longer closed.
There was truth in what the commanding, exalted, warrior-dream magus said and, if not for my own empowerment, the desire to be with Merlin and to be and to do all things for him – protecting and loving him – was appealed to.
“Arvin, I’m afraid I’ve been a tough act to follow. You shouldn’t feel incapable of taking charge.” Merlin pleaded.
Merlin came up the steps to join me. He slowly pulled my hands from my stomach. There was such beauty in Merlin’s warm eyes that I began moving down to meet the kingly warrior-dream magus.
Absently, I kept holding on to Merlin, in kind. Together, we stepped down to join the truly regal, exalted-dream magus.
“This is, after all, your ‘Jeanne d’Arc’ lifetime.
“Passing through the fire is never easy Arvin but it’s the liberation that comes with it that can never be imagined.” the warrior-dream magus sweetly said.
The handsome, warrior-dream magus leaned over encouraging me to accept the sword.
Straight away, the point at which the exalted-dream magus mentioned the French martyr, I froze in my approach. On stepping down to the floor, the cool waters confirmed the dampness in the air.
Though not liking the sounds of this, I seemed to sway as I reached out my hands to accept. Merlin then let go of my arm. I was shocked by what next occurred.
Instead of handing me the word of light, as I bowed my acceptance, the tall, powerful, magnetic, warrior-dream magus who now seemed larger-bodied than previously – he now seemed truly Wotanesque – forcefully thrust the gleaming sword of white light into my solar plexus.
The sword of light pierced me with effortless ease. The light of the sword intensified and flooded my vision with a sea of white light. I felt a warm, throbbing sensation as the sword of gleaming, white light slowly moved in.
As the sword became buried into my body so too did my awareness become expanded. I had another vision within these richly layered, astral plane dreams of unsurpassed, surreal beauty and potency.
As the sword of white light thrust further into my solar plexus, I looked into the warrior-dream magus’s eyes and experienced again that slow drift-to-suspension of time.
Much like his well-worn, red cloak, time magically hung about his intense aura.
In the light of a very intense full Moon, I saw a small village at nighttime. It was a rural setting in Europe. I was now posited, within these rich dreams, in yet another experiential unfoldment that was simply visionary in scope.
I instinctively knew that I was astral-projected. I also knew that, in this second vision, my body was made of pure light thus I was rendered invisible. Standing on a slope, I keenly observed while remaining undetected.
A lone, wooden hut was moored to a large tree that gave shade and anchored the hut. A big-boned woman emerged from the hut. She wore heavy, woollen fabrics which were soiled and grey.
She lived in a valley, with neighbours who were comfortably distant, in this pastoral setting. She walked towards me with a look of determination on her hardened faced.
Complementing, her high-cheeked, by-no-stretch-of-the-imagination-beautiful face was dimensions removed. This woman’s hair was dark and untidy.
A gaggle of dark-plumaged geese flew in. The geese noisily alighted in her yard. Although I was sure that she couldn’t see me, I had mistaken her faint smile as acknowledgement of my presence.
When it was clearly not autumn, it seemed strange that the geese should be in flight at nighttime. On alighting, the geese wobbled after the woman as she progressed.
Their flight was infinitely slower and more graceful than their pigeon-toed locomotion. The woman made her way, in my direction, up the slight incline. She was joined by other villagers who eagerly came on foot.
She held her head high and proud. In the cool, night air, her pets scurried along after her. She gathered the layers of skirt, undergarments and apron in her hands and crouched forward while ascending.
She made her way up to the top of the knoll where I stood. She stood for a moment and as the others joined her, chanting their strong-accented, Gallic support, it confirmed my impression that this was in rural France.
Oblivious of my astral-projected presence, she moved past me. She started the trek across the plain alone. Turning, in search of her destination, I noticed a wooden mound up ahead.
As she continued on, the others remained where they were. They were silent and supportive. She clambered up the mound and stood with her back to the single, upright trunk while facing before us her audience.
On realising what was about to happen, I began hurriedly walking towards her. Even as I started to run, the mound became a flash of piercing, blue-white flames.
The pyre crackled and the smell of the fire was strong. It was all very real. As the thunder of the flames triumphantly rose into the Moon-reigned-over sky, I stood spellbound in my tracks.
As it progressed, every aspect of this dream was vivid. It became an experience whose instinctual familiarity we in the waking state call, déjà vu. This, however, was more appropriately, déjà vécu – previously lived.
The flames surrounded me. Soon, I realised that I was looking out at the weeping villagers. I was unable to find my astral-projected, light-bodied, dreamer self which was still slightly ahead of the mournful villagers.
My perspective was that of my invisible, astral-projected, dream body and that of the hard-faced, French woman who was being burnt at the stake.
The feeling of being burnt, of being submerged in a sea of flames, was revelatory. Contrary to what I would have thought, it was an experience that was just as exhilarating as a flying dream.
It was pure rapture. I literally felt my breath peel its way out of my rapidly withering skin. In place of tears and wailing, my voice quaked with loud, victorious laughter.
As my fears of the flame were lost, the laughter grew stronger. Too, the ticklish, liquid feel of the flames and the stench of it all was a marvellous discovery.
I then began moving forward, at great speeds, leaving the villagers in consternation far behind me. I instantaneously returned across dimensions where I rejoined my primary-dream body.
I rejoined Merlin and the exalted, warrior-dream magus.
This was liberation and just as the exalted, warrior-dream magus had described and assured…
*I do not believe that because of the Jeanne d’Arc reference by the exalted, warrior-dream magus in this dream that it implies that I was the French martyr in a past life. More importantly, I do not read into this dream allegory that I was Jeanne d’Arc in a past life – nor do I believe it to have been the case.
Rather the reference to Jeanne d’Arc, by both Merlin and the exalted, warrior-dream magus, is the immolation of the persona that I would undergo for having been the ordinal partner who had had to sublimate ego. As ordinal partner, I had suffered much insult, social aggressive and animus – chiefly owing to my race and sexuality – from some of Merlin’s non-too-spiritually-evolved Canadian friends.
This, of course, would then lead to a transformation of persona. That warped persona was suffocating for self, Merlin and Merlin and I. It would result in the sublimation of ego necessary for me to have truly been supportive of Merlin. This ultimately is all that mattered. END.
The light up ahead grew more intense and my focus shifted. The warrior-dream magus, his face leaning close, winked his left soulful eye at me.
Merlin held me as my breath barked a “Wooooaah!” of newfound empowerment. Even though I was exhilarated, I did feel drained.
I was spent. The sword’s energy sporadically tugged, while its strength waned with each pulse, at my solar plexus.
Brushing Merlin aside, I allowed my body to collapse. I sat hunched forward on the steps. I did not much like the feel of this. My irascible, doubting nature resurfaced.
‘What had I delved into?’ at having had any part in this, I felt mounting dread.
Merlin sat down next to me and began rubbing my back. Lovingly, Merlin nurtured me away from this unnerving, emotional abyss.
On sensing a shift in his presence, I looked up to find the master-dream magus returned. Now, the exalted-dream magus was robed as initially he had been.
Gone was the chainmail and helmet. Now, he was enrobed in the bateau-collared, flowing red robe that was woven with glowing, golden thread in the most exquisite though unfamiliar designs.
Turning to Merlin, I inquiringly looked at him. His face broke into a soft smile which soothed my spirit.
“I have a secret to share.” Merlin ventured in a whispered tone that was full of his usual charm. Soon enough, I managed a won-over smile.
“Arvin, I’ve always known you have a greater power about you. And I have every confidence that you can take charge. I love you, you know, Arvin.”
I sat there on the steps looking at him. I was fully aware of both him and me lying, together in our Cabbagetown bed at 20 Amelia Street, asleep and dreaming these most lucid shared dreams.
How much more like the waking Merlin and my waking self we now seemed to be. Even now, his eyes were the pale, hazel-to-off-blue of the waking state.
Both Merlin and I were real. Here were we clearly, fully astral-projected on the astral plane and engaged in deep soul-to-soul communion.
Merlin stood up, after which, both he and the magnetic, old king knowingly looked at each other. My lover looked down at me saying, with a sly wink,
“See you in a bit.”
I said nothing. They both turned and began walking away. I got up. I turned. I made my way up the steps and climbed into the four-candle-posted bed.
I thought about the sequence of events further mulling them over. As much as I would rather have rejected so much that transpired, I realised that I couldn’t.
From above, still astral-projected and observant, I silently watched my boyish, primary-dream body reclining on the inclined bed. I knew that I watched myself and that these were rather vivid, astral plane dreams.
On choosing to recoil my astral-projected body and become refocussed up into the grounding familiarity of the waking state, I closed my lids.
©2013 Arvin da Braga