Dream: The Thelemic Mass
Dream 20030324, 6:20 AM:
I’m with someone, I think it’s my folks or maybe Chris’s folks. We go into a small community-center type room set with chairs; we are here to see some sort of special Mass. The room fills up slowly, and when most of the seats are full, there are probably 30 or so people. I look at an altar area at the front, and there is a large blue box; it reminds me of a phrase from the OTO, “The Blue-lidded daughter.” Someone at the front starts to speak, and welcomes everyone to the Thelemic Mass. I am momentarily freaked out, thinking that my guests are going to be upset; I think that we had come expecting something like an Orthodox Greek mass. An ethnic experience, but not something that would seem occult. They seem to be OK with it, though, so I just settle down and watch.
Then, I’m in a room that reminds me of the living room at Grandma and Grandpa’s house in Kansas. It’s a considerably bigger room, though. There are a bunch of people here, and it looks like we’re set for a slumber party – everyone is lounged out on sleeping bags and bedrolls. I am sharing a bedroll with another guy, and it seems like we’re just friends; we’re not cuddling up or anything. We are lying on top of the covers, I think I’m on my stomach and he’s on his back, and we’re both lying so that we’re facing the front of the room, where there is a woman speaking. She explains something about a Mass in German, and then goes on, giving a list of announcements. At one point she says something about how Mike Cook gave a class on poses; I look up, startled, because I knew I had done no such thing – she sees my look, and explains that it was a different Mike Cook, an older guy, and besides, I’m on the list as Michael.
After she is done talking, I am chatting with my friend, and saying that I really don’t see the point of having a Mass in a language like Old German, one that we can’t really learn and use; he replies that yeah, it seems like it would make sense if it was in Spanish or French or something, but the old languages are hard to learn because there’s nobody speaking them. I say something about Castilian and another dialect.
Then, I’m walking around the yard at Grandma’s, and looking at the new-planted grass. I’m wondering if I need to water it, or if it will be OK like it is. The yard is much bigger in the dream than it really was.
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