Time for another update. I am right now in a process where I am finishing up last years hurdles, so while it certainly is a new calendar year, I won’t really notice until 1st of March.
I am deeply preoccupied with my occult studies, which now take place during the dark season. This is consuming most of my time and energy.
My nephew has now got a girlfriend! I am so proud of him. Next month he will turn 18. He is the responsible type so I don’t imagine he will knock her up or get too drunk at a party. So far, he is the one picking up his drunk friends and getting them home safely. Which is why i think its a good idea to teach kids how to drink, early, so they know their limit. Most kids don’t.
Many people of all ages and time warn against getting or using an Oija board. I am one of the people who warned other people about using one, especially if you are not sure what you are doing.
Since I am now sure what I am doing, I got one just for fun. Now, in my initiatory level, you might say I have the necessary skills to tackle certain things. I mean, by this time, I have died three times, and had my organs divided into four, then put back together again magickally at some time, and I have looked my own mortality as well as the horrors beyond in the white eye.
But still I get a Oija board.
I got it on eBay really cheap. Its an antique. I guess the previous owners, based in the UK, didn’t want it anymore, for some reason.
You can see, I am building up to a story here.
But the story is very simple. As I am typing I realize why I haven’t slept well since .. well since about this thing arrived. And I haven’t used it or anything. Horrible nightmares. Too bad I suck at remembering my dreams. Today I even went back to sleep to try to get back to the dream, it had the most horrible energy, I was so fascinated. It reminded me of what a young A.:.A.:. adept once wrote, now dead last year at age 33, in his magickal journal about his visit to the seven hells.
This would be hell 2, only one hell away from the mother of all hells. He described it as ‘being alone in a dark room, lit only by a single candle, pictures scattered everywhere, with a baby picking up the pictures and burning them, one by one. The pictures are part of your life, and scenes of other peoples lives. Each time a photo is burned, a part of you dies, or someone dies. Then you know the baby is sooner or later going to pick up your picture and you will die’.