There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.' Isaac Asimov

Inimicus Dei Constituitur

I had a dream last night, actually it was a nightmare.

If you've been following along, you probably get that I am an unabashed fan of Tommie Kelly and Gordon White. In White's The Chaos Protocols, he gives a version of The Headless Rite to which he adds an invocation/quarter summoning of the Four Demon Kings from the grimoiric tradition. White states that after performing The Headless Rite one's "dreams will certainly get a lot more interesting."

Tommie mentions a sychronous event that occured to him just an hour after performing the rite for the first time. Interesting, but not quite woo-woo (did I really just use that term?).

I mentioned above that I rarely perform others' rituals. I've done a few, but... they mostly leave me cold. I prefer to improvise or write things for myself (I study a lot, and I'm good at synthesis and syncretion). I've been at the process of how I build my own ritual space for a while now. For at least a week, I have included an honoring of the kings in the cardinal points, more just an acknowledgement really. There was something familiar about that invocation and the names, I'm still not sure where from, but its come up in a few places, so I was working my way towards some sort of inclusion.

I did not call them by name until last night.

Lets get something clear up front. I'm not much of a seer. I do not see shit. Yes, there have been some rather memorable occurences that have had sensations and sometimes a visual component, but as a rule I do not see shit (hallucinogenic journies aside).

After finishing my rituals and settling down to meditate, I was greeted by a vision of four, towering, shadowy figures surrounding my circle. They persisted for some time. I sensed no menace. Perhaps there was a hint of interogatory in the air. I noted it as an interesting occurence, and may not even have written of it (I really should have do so, and I am going to get better about documentation) if it wasn't for the nightmare.

I wish I remembered my dreams more. I've done some dream work in the past, but ran up against a pretty common problem: I'd be so invested in chronicling/analysing my dreams that I couldn't get a decent night's sleep; I was constantly waking up from dreams. So I don't do a lot of dream work anymore (I might start again). When I have a nightmare, its usually an interesting experience (I LOVE horror movies, when I met Kane Hodder, I thanked him for the nightmares; he was perplexed).

This particular nightmare involved a large, all black, predatory jungle cat (ok, it might have been a vicious, overgrown house cat; but it was the size of a mountain lion). Why this thing was in my house, I have no idea. Nor am I sure, at this point, how I initially escaped it and how it ended up outside. What I am sure of is that there was a stranger in my house (possibly several, but only one was at the back door tossing gobbets of meat out to the 'kitty') feeding it and that my dog was there.

I can't quite follow the chain of events, but the cat was back in the house and it chased me into the bathroom. I was desperately trying to hold the door closed against, but it was getting in. Meanwhile, the stranger is telling me that the cat has killed my dog. I ask him if he is sure. When I recieve the answer, I calmly take the cat in my arms, grab its head and break its neck. I woke to the sound of its vertabrae cracking. Don't fuck with my dog.

She was, of course, sleeping soundly right next to me, which took away some of the sting. And as I thought about it, I realized that she did not actually die in the dream. I didn't see it or the aftermath. Someone simply told me that she had been killed. Did they tell me what I needed to hear at that moment? I believe so.

I've come to realize that I was actually quite a magician in my teens. I was developing the tech, the states of mind and the attitude needed. Life got in the way. And the only real resource I had at the time was Crowley/Golden Dawn... and well, I embraced Chaos, so.. that should tell you how well that musty old Victorian shit worked for me. If only I had had a copy of Hands on Chaos Magic back in about 1982 (I'm an unabashed fan of Andrieh Vitimus as well).

So, what the hell am I saying here? That I invoked four demon kings, got their attention for long enough to get a creepy vision and a nightmare out of the deal, but there was also a lesson in the nightmare reminding me of skills I already possess that I ought to be applying directly. I know they work, I've known that they worked for 30 years.

Interesting. Very interesting.