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smokingbootI saw the harpy again.
I am always she but I am also watching her from the outside. This time it was very similar to before; this harpy was swooping around Scottish islands and coasts long before I came here, and here she was again over a tiny village with its little lighthouse jutting out into the sea. One can reach that lighthouse by a bridge if wings are lacking. The first thing I notice is how someone has left a scattering of long stemmed red roses in a graveyard. It doesn't look deliberate but as though the flowers were dropped by accident. I could take one but I don't.
Flying again, I see a figure in light blue walking along the bridge to the lighthouse. Above it the windows are open and as I fly past some kind of snare gun is fired, lassoos my right heel. It tightens, but not terribly. I am very tempted to just kick out and pull the gun straight out of the lighthouse, hopefully with idiot shooter still attached. Instead I fiddle around in mid air untying the snare. It's a nuisance and if this was a proper attack I would not have time for it. But this is different.
Having untied it I go back to the lighthouse and enter through the window. The lighthouse keeper greets me and introduces me to his replacement, he says he is retiring. The replacement is the person in light blue. I am offered some hot stew because it is cold out, but I recall the snare gun and decline the food in case it's poisoned, though I don't say that. I don't recall saying anything at all. What I do then is fly up into the clouds and remember the last time I had this vision, waking with the feeling that the man I once knew as the lighthouse keeper is now dead.
Hmm, it is no surprise that death is in my thoughts I guess, but I don't think this is about the lighthouse keeper, a figure from my dreamworld back in the 80s.
I am waking up. What I really want to do is get some arts equipment and either paint or draw or make a collage of the harpy at the lighthouse.
I am always she but I am also watching her from the outside. This time it was very similar to before; this harpy was swooping around Scottish islands and coasts long before I came here, and here she was again over a tiny village with its little lighthouse jutting out into the sea. One can reach that lighthouse by a bridge if wings are lacking. The first thing I notice is how someone has left a scattering of long stemmed red roses in a graveyard. It doesn't look deliberate but as though the flowers were dropped by accident. I could take one but I don't.
Flying again, I see a figure in light blue walking along the bridge to the lighthouse. Above it the windows are open and as I fly past some kind of snare gun is fired, lassoos my right heel. It tightens, but not terribly. I am very tempted to just kick out and pull the gun straight out of the lighthouse, hopefully with idiot shooter still attached. Instead I fiddle around in mid air untying the snare. It's a nuisance and if this was a proper attack I would not have time for it. But this is different.
Having untied it I go back to the lighthouse and enter through the window. The lighthouse keeper greets me and introduces me to his replacement, he says he is retiring. The replacement is the person in light blue. I am offered some hot stew because it is cold out, but I recall the snare gun and decline the food in case it's poisoned, though I don't say that. I don't recall saying anything at all. What I do then is fly up into the clouds and remember the last time I had this vision, waking with the feeling that the man I once knew as the lighthouse keeper is now dead.
Hmm, it is no surprise that death is in my thoughts I guess, but I don't think this is about the lighthouse keeper, a figure from my dreamworld back in the 80s.
I am waking up. What I really want to do is get some arts equipment and either paint or draw or make a collage of the harpy at the lighthouse.
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Date: 2024-05-04 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2024-05-06 12:28 pm (UTC)