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the things our subconscious gets up to...
Jul. 15th, 2011 10:59 amThis morning, I had a very vivid dream in which there was a group of us playing out the ritual murder of a King, as part of a seasonal cycle (probably most who read my entries would know about this ancient story). The spaces and action of the months-long drama were set alongside our regular lives, and knowing who the people were in "real" life, but in very lush surroundings and rather like a parallel universe (with elaborate costuming), and throughout the course of the dream, I wasn't sure whether the King was metaporically killed or actually, you know, dead, at the end of the ritual. I'm still not sure, since we didn't make it that far; we were still in the selection process, and in the old stories, it's difficult to know, on some level, no differentiation is made.
It is always important that the King be a willing sacrifice, and the Queen selects the King for the cycle, and in this case, the Queen was![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
asakiyume. All of the candidates (and there were many, with varying degrees of enthusiasm) came through this rather elaborate chamber and presented cards with poetry inside, and the judgment was based on the most pleasing poetry, which ranged from Emerson to A.A. Milne. There were a lot of modern poets, and some I don't remember now, but I had gotten a chance to look at the cards too. Emerson seemed to be the favorite at the moment, and that card was presented by a very dashing-looking man who clearly wished to be selected and had a charismatic way about him ([Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], this is not what I would have expected of your taste in poetry).
There was, after that, a lot of walking through woods, some of which was snowy, with abandoned shops and houses in some places, giving a feeling of remoteness to the area (as though there had been folks living here once, but everybody had left because it was too far from everything else). One of the abandoned shops was for a trade that I had never heard of, but in the dream, I knew what it was--it had something to do with repairing metal equipment, but not a blacksmith or something like that). Alas, I do not remember what it was called or more specifics.
We didn't get any farther along than that, so now I will never know what the next trial was. I love how so many strands of my life wove themselves into a new story that is unrecognizable as "mine." Also, how delightful to cast an LJ presence into my dream (yes, we have met IRL, but much here much more often).
It is always important that the King be a willing sacrifice, and the Queen selects the King for the cycle, and in this case, the Queen was
asakiyume. All of the candidates (and there were many, with varying degrees of enthusiasm) came through this rather elaborate chamber and presented cards with poetry inside, and the judgment was based on the most pleasing poetry, which ranged from Emerson to A.A. Milne. There were a lot of modern poets, and some I don't remember now, but I had gotten a chance to look at the cards too. Emerson seemed to be the favorite at the moment, and that card was presented by a very dashing-looking man who clearly wished to be selected and had a charismatic way about him ([Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com], this is not what I would have expected of your taste in poetry).There was, after that, a lot of walking through woods, some of which was snowy, with abandoned shops and houses in some places, giving a feeling of remoteness to the area (as though there had been folks living here once, but everybody had left because it was too far from everything else). One of the abandoned shops was for a trade that I had never heard of, but in the dream, I knew what it was--it had something to do with repairing metal equipment, but not a blacksmith or something like that). Alas, I do not remember what it was called or more specifics.
We didn't get any farther along than that, so now I will never know what the next trial was. I love how so many strands of my life wove themselves into a new story that is unrecognizable as "mine." Also, how delightful to cast an LJ presence into my dream (yes, we have met IRL, but much here much more often).