Posts Tagged ‘The Honey Children’

staLLion

Monday, February 10th, 2014

T.N.T RIDE (New at Disneyworld, Book Now)

T.N.T RIDE (New at Disneyworld, Book Now)

(gets under your skin)

(gets under your skin)

St Arion

C Horse

C Horse

(9i6)

(9i6)

Pop Sickle

Pop Sickle

Tor-CH Bear ER

Tor-CH Bear ER

(Shoved Aside)

(Shoved Aside)

Letter to Claudia Bush, July 24, 1974

[4:74]

Dear Claudia,

Claudia! Another letter! Guess what about!

I forgot – how could I? – to relate to you a dream I had the other night; see, the purpose of relating it is to show how many myth elements from Antiquity can, with a little effort, be disclosed.

I’m with a bunch of people in an elevator. There is, oddly, an elevator operator (we don’t have those in real life ever anymore, at least where I’ve been living the last 20 years); he’s a small man, with olive skin and black curly short hair and large eyes, the way people are depicted in the Roman mosaics. He’s wearing a brown cop uniform and is in complete charge. To his right, by the modern extremely heavy doors of the elevator is what looks like a pile of spaghetti with tomato sauce; sticking down into it is a fork. The elevator stops and I step forward to leave, but before you leave, what you have to do is extricate the fork from the pile of spaghetti, which I begin to do. But I discover it’s a three pronged trident, not a fork, and it isn’t spaghetti it is a pile of reddish yarn. As I pull, threads come with the trident.

The cop at once begins in the most commanding and frightening authority-type voice to explain that the prongs of the trident must be brought free without breaking a strand of the thread; he speaks to all in the elevator. He shows me how to extricate the trident without breaking the strands, and then he begins in his firm commanding voice to recite rhymed verse. At this I know him to be that cop, the only one; he is the most awesome of them all, and we all fall totally silent and listen with humble, almost religious, respect to his verse. Then he touches the button which opens the door. As I step through the now open portal I see the man behind me stoop down and start attempting to extricate the trident without breaking the strands twined around its prongs.

Then the next night I heard the woman singing the rhymed couplet about “You must put your slippers on / To walk toward the dawn,” with the full choir behind her, again and again and again. I said to Tessa after the elevator dream, “I guess I’m going to have to listen to some of her prophetic couplets.” And so I did.

In the elevator dream I see these Classical Myth elements:

The authority figure in charge of the “vessel” is the psychopomp, the guide of the souls who leads them across (the Styx, etc.) to the Other Side. Charon is very strict. The thread, which may be Arachne’s or Ariadne’s, must not be broken. If it is Ariadne’s, then the trident is the sword she gave to Theseus along with the thread to guide him out of the Labyrinth; if he broke it, his life was over. (If the trident is that of Poseidon then it is evident where we are in the dream: I quote from Gods and Heroes of the Greeks, p.12: “…they cast lots and Zeus got heaven, Poseidon the sea and Hades the underworld.”) Both Poseidon and Hades appear then in the dream of the elevator, which is far down in the “lower floors, with darkness outside, as with the basement level,” and the trident. I see three myths right there, with the trident sticking into the “strands which must not be broken”, and then the guide who recites verse indicates that we are in the presence of prophecy, of an oracle. Also, the spaghetti tells us we’re in that part of the world. Plus the olive-colored skin and the eyes of the “cop”.

I looked the citations up just now; and there is another thing which is startling, I mean beyond how many myth-sources unknown to me seem involved.

The morning after I had this dream I received a letter from my friend Philip Jose Farmer, in which he wrote:

…You’re among the most imaginative of men, Phil. Have you tried to use that imagination to figure a way out of the situation?…Think in other categories, as Ouspensky said; use your unconventional mind as if it were a powerful tool which it indeed is. You’re in the labyrinth, but your Ariadne’s thread is your imagination.

I think I mentioned a more recent dream about double domed men with rather golden skin – huge egg-shaped craniums, very fierce and formidable and decisive, with an enormous yearbook type book “which you can’t get right now because it’s not available.” Last night, with sudden fear, I broke through the memory block about that dream; in it one of those double domed golden skinned men opened a huge cyclops eye which at once, as with the cyclops sibyl, shoved his regular two eyes aside. He wasn’t looking at me, thank god, but it so scared me that when I woke up I couldn’t remember that. Last night when I did remember, the image from the dream was so vivid that I thought, I actually thought, that maybe I hadn’t dreamed it, I had actually seen a cyclops such as this during the day, in reality. Only by a priori reasoning, that this was not possible, did I deduce it therefore had to have been in the dream.

In a frenzy of hysteria I told Tessa that I believed that these were not people I was seeing. Not people like us talking to me in my sleep and healing and educating me, but another race entirely (you know, like the saucer people talk about: “a superior race from Outer Space, Immortal and All-Knowing, Who Guide Us”). But then, as I relate in my other letter (there’s always another letter) of this date I tell how last night I was disappointed to be shown that it’s only Asklepios and friends, and they’re all human. So acute terror gave way to keen disappointment.

I’m sure that Asklepios and friends are concerned that I not freak. This must be a perpetual risk in matters of this kind, where they surface and start curing and guiding and improving a person. The person, understandably, goes bananas and climbs the drapes, hiding up there with eyes bugged out like grapes. First of all it interferes with the therapy, but worse than that it defeats the entire purpose of it, which is to make the person balanced, sound and sane, rational and calm and in harmony and proportion within and with the outside world, so he can take anything. If he can’t take the healing, then we have a sad irony; the therapy to make him sane causes him to go insane.

These last experiences at night, first the rhymed couplet about “You have to put your slippers on / To walk toward the Dawn”, is a very complex but effective way of reassuring me. The voice was quiet and somewhat motherly, and familiar. (In the dream I thought it was Olivia Newton-John, and who could be scared of her?) Also, my associations which have filtered through after absorbing the couplet are in a similar vein. “You have to put your slippers on” is what your mama says to you before you and the other little children sit down around her in a circle, at night before you go to bed, to hear the story she is going to tell you; it suggests safety and also the peace and quiet, the alpha state you get into, before she starts her soothing tale. And of course it’s soothing, dummy, because you’re going to bed and no mama would tell you anything scary before you went to bed. Another association that comes to me is that you, as that little child about to hear the soothing tale, put your slippers on – not to walk anywhere; slippers aren’t for walking – but to keep your feet warm, which could be deciphered as, “You must not have cold feet,” which again deciphered means, “Don’t be scared; you must not be scared or you can’t walk toward the Dawn,” which itself is a metaphor for “moving toward enlightenment,” quite evidently. It’s a riddle. As kids would have no trouble interpreting; it’s really very easy, for a riddle.

The Nice Lady: What’s meant by (and she recites the couplet)?
Children (all together excitedly): I know! I know!
[The Nice Lady]: Sit around and be quiet and listen and you’ll learn something!

I’m sure of this, Claudia. They, Asklepios and his gang, were aware I was getting freaked (I do a lot of that, but it’s understandable, probably happens often) and set about calming me down. […]

Yesterday I asked Tessa what she thought was going on. “They’re disclosing the Mysteries to you,” she said. “The Elysian Mysteries.” Since the EMs were based on secret rituals to Demeter, then maybe Tessa is right. My sibyl is a chthonic deity: Demeter, for instance.

Love,

Phil

(La Croix)

(La Croix)

P.S.

Friday, June 17th, 2011



Doesn't Show / Give it Time

I knew the storm was getting closer
And all my friends said I was high
But everything we’ve ever known’s here
I never wanted it to die

Couldn’t Have Had Music Week w/o The Red Rabbit Himself

So Thanks, Axl.


Next Week: Music Week