An hour after waking:
I hate that dream.
I hate that house.
It's not happened for a while in any of its variations.
Tonight was the worst, not necessarily for the events but for the place. Other dreams have far worse events.
Dream events are nothing compared to this place.
This place is entirely the essence wrongness. I have no better word.
Every wall, passage, room, staircase is wrong. Physically the walls look just as walls, ancient wood. But psychically they exude the stench of something far beyond simple death.
The fabric far beyond darkness.
The wood, the walls, the house itself is hard to survive inside my own being.
And it has HIM in it. Whoever he is or represents. HIM.
There is no light in HIM, none. None. Just venom, hatred.
Somewhere in that house, he will be. Always writing, whatever HIM writes.
Tonight he saw me and moved with more resolution and speed than I've seen before.
Urgency. Urgency. Desperate to come to me. To steal all light from me.
He is fear. That place is fear.
The whole place is twisted by Presence, vile presence, manifesting whatever it wants and able to exclude Spirit-Source from the house, able to transform calls to Spirit and fight back, increasing the wrongness and the manifestation.
But worst of all is HIM.
I feel HIM now.
I see him grasping for me because this dream takes too long to fade.
If I must go to a dream house, can't I go to the other one? Yes, there's a door there that passes through to an Elsewhere that isn't right. And I can't not go to it. But that Elsewhere feels like Hell has passed away and the place just needs to be brought to life. Tainted but not threat in any major way.
Tonight's house, ancient wood, is entire threat, entire psychic danger, sometimes physical danger. And tonight's house remains into the waking and calls for me to return. Return and have the hope of Spirit, of the creative, of Being, ripped from your being. HE can do it. There is no Spirit there to stop him.
And I see him now because whatever HE is, that is still within me.
Mother of being, protect me.
Father of light, protect me.
Because that place, that HIM, are within and they want to return me to my death.
Inside. That place is real. And it wants me to return. To stay. In waking and sleeping. To stay.
If dream is manifest psyche then inside me, that place is real, HIM is real.
And he must one day, in my waking, be addressed and fought.
Mother of being, guide me.
Father of light, guide me.