smokingboot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smokingboot) wrote2006-08-21 07:59 pm
smokingboot) wrote2006-08-21 07:59 pm
Entry tags:
Sister to dragons, companion to owls...
daughter to fruitbats, banquet to bedbugs.
I am a little ill, a lot stressed, and very very wummanscuppered right now. Update will wait. Despite the volume of stuff that has happened I can't think about it because of the sheer exhaustion and cruddiness, my uterus misbehaving so badly that I can't go across the road to get fud. I'm getting quite expert at sitting here clutching my gut and groaning though. Oh, and having nasty dreams...comes of spending all day in bed. So now I recount my dreams, don't feel you have to wade through this lot. It's dull and a bit gloopy.
Horrible flat-headed wide-beaked hawk-chicken hybrids coming out of a hole in the ground; they just got bigger and bigger, a nasty look to them.
Went down some stairs in the dark, caverns all around me, my favourite Lilith devotee was down there, he had created a kind of rave studio /temple to her, in a small room of hanging fabric, neon symbols, reds and ultra violets,electric greens all over it. Outside it stood his nearest and dearest who saw me and smiled. The music was starting, I smiled back and went away. Found a skimpy typical fetish demon outfit; it had an almost mask made up of three faces, all cut away under the eyes, all with interesting tattoos and designs on them. I had no eyebrows, my eyes were cold chips of blue, I seemed almost bald, like a peach, my skin was amber. An interesting costume, when I took it off, my eyes returned to normal, my own hair could be seen.
A thick-set indian woman covered with hair all over her body, it grew in curls down her back, out of her shoulders. Not ugly, different.
A sigil to the demoness/goddess Lilith, a simple thing started byravenrigan finished by me in good strong crayon. The colours were scribbled in, thick here thin there; the sigil turned into a cup of colours offered to me by one I knew was Lilith. I drank the colours. They tasted of nothing but they were good.
Another dream, I had a daughter, Elizabeth or Sophie, brown haired, brown eyed little girl, serious expression. But of course her egg is leaving my body. She's not going to be, probably never will. Sorry little one, I felt myself say, but it's a good thing really. I would be a rotten mother; I have no patience at all and a high chance of carrying the gene/conditioning that made my childhood so interesting; I don't regret not having a baby, got things I want to do with all my heart and parenthood's not on that list. But I regret not knowing you. I like you. Maybe I'll meet you when you're grown up, the happy progeny of normal people, and we'll be friends then. The last thing you need is to depend on a woman who has conversations with her periods.
Of course, now I recall in folklore Lilith is an ender of children.
This whole mood may have been compounded by a psychic chum telling me last night that, on seeing me pull a tarot card called The Ace of Pentacles (in her pack, a giant pentacle surrounded by flames), of her sudden vision of one of my past deaths - strangled, then burnt as a witch. 'Unfinished business around that' she said. Now thing is, I have had lots of dreams, waking and sleeping, of strangulation/hanging/fatal injury done to the neck, and am not comfortable with chokers really, or scarves or anything bunched up around the neck, even sweaters. I like that part of my body kept bare. I believe in my friend's sincerity to the max, but everyone seems to have been a witch, or a priestess of Atlantis or Marie Antoinette, don't they? still, her words may be the cause of my fever dreams to some extent. Lilith is nothing if not a witch.
Maybe the menopause will turn up early. I'm ready. When my menses first started I asked my mother for a pill to take it away - and funnily enough, found one that sort of did that eventually;-) Course, one can't have that sort of drug hammering round one's bod forever. Now this damn thing just hangs around and makes one week in every month a misery. This one's one of the worst I have ever had. Nature, she is, how you say, pure beeetch.
caddyman has just poured me a glass of the goodly ale, which is held in such high esteem for the loosening of stomach cramps. Hmm, I feel it working already. Perhaps I need more!
I am a little ill, a lot stressed, and very very wummanscuppered right now. Update will wait. Despite the volume of stuff that has happened I can't think about it because of the sheer exhaustion and cruddiness, my uterus misbehaving so badly that I can't go across the road to get fud. I'm getting quite expert at sitting here clutching my gut and groaning though. Oh, and having nasty dreams...comes of spending all day in bed. So now I recount my dreams, don't feel you have to wade through this lot. It's dull and a bit gloopy.
Horrible flat-headed wide-beaked hawk-chicken hybrids coming out of a hole in the ground; they just got bigger and bigger, a nasty look to them.
Went down some stairs in the dark, caverns all around me, my favourite Lilith devotee was down there, he had created a kind of rave studio /temple to her, in a small room of hanging fabric, neon symbols, reds and ultra violets,electric greens all over it. Outside it stood his nearest and dearest who saw me and smiled. The music was starting, I smiled back and went away. Found a skimpy typical fetish demon outfit; it had an almost mask made up of three faces, all cut away under the eyes, all with interesting tattoos and designs on them. I had no eyebrows, my eyes were cold chips of blue, I seemed almost bald, like a peach, my skin was amber. An interesting costume, when I took it off, my eyes returned to normal, my own hair could be seen.
A thick-set indian woman covered with hair all over her body, it grew in curls down her back, out of her shoulders. Not ugly, different.
A sigil to the demoness/goddess Lilith, a simple thing started by
ravenrigan finished by me in good strong crayon. The colours were scribbled in, thick here thin there; the sigil turned into a cup of colours offered to me by one I knew was Lilith. I drank the colours. They tasted of nothing but they were good.Another dream, I had a daughter, Elizabeth or Sophie, brown haired, brown eyed little girl, serious expression. But of course her egg is leaving my body. She's not going to be, probably never will. Sorry little one, I felt myself say, but it's a good thing really. I would be a rotten mother; I have no patience at all and a high chance of carrying the gene/conditioning that made my childhood so interesting; I don't regret not having a baby, got things I want to do with all my heart and parenthood's not on that list. But I regret not knowing you. I like you. Maybe I'll meet you when you're grown up, the happy progeny of normal people, and we'll be friends then. The last thing you need is to depend on a woman who has conversations with her periods.
Of course, now I recall in folklore Lilith is an ender of children.
This whole mood may have been compounded by a psychic chum telling me last night that, on seeing me pull a tarot card called The Ace of Pentacles (in her pack, a giant pentacle surrounded by flames), of her sudden vision of one of my past deaths - strangled, then burnt as a witch. 'Unfinished business around that' she said. Now thing is, I have had lots of dreams, waking and sleeping, of strangulation/hanging/fatal injury done to the neck, and am not comfortable with chokers really, or scarves or anything bunched up around the neck, even sweaters. I like that part of my body kept bare. I believe in my friend's sincerity to the max, but everyone seems to have been a witch, or a priestess of Atlantis or Marie Antoinette, don't they? still, her words may be the cause of my fever dreams to some extent. Lilith is nothing if not a witch.
Maybe the menopause will turn up early. I'm ready. When my menses first started I asked my mother for a pill to take it away - and funnily enough, found one that sort of did that eventually;-) Course, one can't have that sort of drug hammering round one's bod forever. Now this damn thing just hangs around and makes one week in every month a misery. This one's one of the worst I have ever had. Nature, she is, how you say, pure beeetch.
caddyman has just poured me a glass of the goodly ale, which is held in such high esteem for the loosening of stomach cramps. Hmm, I feel it working already. Perhaps I need more!
Sound advice
And as everywhere is now shut, I may have to resort to a kebab for dinner. Very healthy I'm sure:)
Re: Sound advice
Dinner was different
Re: Dinner was different
Might I tempt you with a pint or two when we are both back to being human* again ?
*For certain values of Human. We ain't from around here...