Dream Interpretation · Dreams · Lucid dreaming · Lucid dreams · Thoughts

War of the damned

I would kill them all 

– Spartacus 


I showed a draft to two people and they got a little bit spooked. I feel I might regret posting this and I might take it down eventually. 

Intuitives please tread wisely. 


The dream 

I’m holding a photograph of someone I once loved. I feel fury and suffering and I cannot understand why none of it feels like it’s mine. In this life sure he’s a bit of a dick and it hurt but this is a degree of hatred I have never ever felt, for anyone, so I’m struggling to understand It. It feels dark and alien to me. I feel like my awareness is here but my body is not. I feel like a leaf in a tornado of fire. It’s confusing and disorientating. 

I catch a glimpse of her in a mirror hanging on the wall of the cabin we are standing in. She looks like a hag. There’s no other way to describe her. She’s old and quite frankly she looks insane and demonic.  She does not look like me and yet she is me. I am her and she is I. We are connected somehow. I feel nauseous looking at her. There’s so much darkness there and it is like looking at an oil slick in a raging current. 

The suffering and fury feels ancient. The shot of him was taken ages ago in the waking world and yet in the dream state it feels old. It feels like time has stretched between where I am standing now and the photo that has been taken. 

Outside the window I can see a lake and the water is black. The water feels like it has an awareness.  It feels like it exists and yet it’s not like the dreams I have where I feel the place exists in the world around me now. The vibe around me feels like him, like its his place and this is his world. This place doesn’t exist outside of his mind.

I feel my hand raise behind me and a fire springs to life in a fireplace. Grabbing a poker she sets it on the fire and when it’s hot enough this what she drew into the floor of the cabin. 

It’s the floor plan of an outdoor temple. 

At four points she places wooden bowls and fills them with things to represent four of the elements, carefully keeping the invocation and the intention the same for each one. The element of spirit is the dream itself. I feel the energy writhe and she turns the circle  to face northwest, reaches into the middle and pulls on what look like threads. I can see different colours of light that now look solid and they clash, combine and separate over and over again. Focusing she weaves them and binds them together like a tapestry. It’s now impossible to see where one thread begins and where one thread ends. 

Taking a knife she slashes her right forearm, scooping up the blood she draws a sigil on the photograph. It’s a rune, well it looks like a rune (I looked it up it’s definitely a rune). Taking the knife again she cuts open her right hand and slams it down on the photograph. She pictures a cord binding her hand to the photograph. With her left hand she lifts the weave and adds it, strengthening the binding. She pictures the lifetimes that came before and the ones to follow. I see  a blur of pictures like you’re on a train rushing through a tunnel underground. Holding the vision and the photograph she raises them both and slams them together. Everything she drew or created vanished in an instant. The circle she drew on the floor appears on my skin like someone has taken branded me with it. It sinks into my skin and disappears along with the wounds. 

 The me that’s the awareness of the body I am in knows that this kind of bind can last lifetimes and it’s not a good idea. Trying to struggle against it proved futile. The me THEN isn’t satisfied. All I can think about is the satisfaction that he and anyone like him is going to be suffering over and over. At least until I remember that this works both ways. I think of the intention I had as I performed the ritual and it was clear as anything. It’s like a bell chiming in my ears over and over. 


I hear a noise behind me and it’s him. He’s sitting on a rocking chair leaning forward crying softly. A bandage is wrapped around his eyes and I realise his eyes have been stabbed out. Stepping forward she raises her hands and burns the sigil and the circle into the spot where his eyes once were. In his agony he reaches for her, creating cords that he can’t control, and tries desperately to bind her with them. The two fight trying to slam and bind each other with cords of energy. She bats away most of his attacks with ease and she fights with a smile on her face. 

“You’re a fool!” He snarls as one of his cords connects and snakes around her throat. 

Throughout the dream a song was playing. I woke up nauseous and singing it . 

“O death, my name is death and the end is here” 

Behind the dream

Ugh this dream makes me nauseous again just thinking about it. Some dark stuff here yes? A nice neat little puzzle to look through though. I’ve struggled to interpret it because I just feel like I’m going to puke my guts up all the time. 
I am not worried despite getting sick when I recall this dream. There is no real need to be fearful. 

It’s interesting because my awareness was in two places. Looking through her eyes and also around her watching her. I’ve never had that happen before. That perspective feels important. 

I also found it fascinating how my body responded to the events in the dream or maybe it was the other way around. 

I had this dream awhile ago long before I had tried to sever cords between us.   Half way through doing that I felt a pop that made my ears ring and I felt like I had gotten kicked in the gut. It was migraine inducing and I vomited everywhere. There was something wrong and so I searched my dream journals. 

I had to force myself to stop thinking about the dream. I found myself visualising the photograph. I found myself collecting matching bowls. I found myself drawing the circle and sigil in the  sand  one day while I was playing with my daughter. I found myself thinking about slashing my wrist open to slam it on his photograph. I kept seeing myself recreating the ritual in the flesh. I’m still not sure how I’m going to approach this as I write it up. I kept hearing the invocation repeated over and over so I decided to disconnect from it. I kept getting migraines and felt breathless everytime I tried to recall it. I found that while writing this I had to do it in stages. It’s taken me nearly a week to write it up. 

Culture and history 

Blood magic was a thing in my culture back in the day. The men used it to bind their weapons and certain artefacts to them for battle. When they died the weapons were either buried with them or burnt. They had the belief that their blood was a physical representation of the power of the ancestors that came before them. Most cultures see it as life force energy and in a way so did mine… but to us it was also the link between the living and the dead. The spiritual and the physical. 
Taking another tribes mans weapon was a way of stealing their power because their spirit was always linked to their weapon. In some tribes they killed and cannabalised a chief and his tribe believing that by consuming them they consume the source of the power of the tribe. My tribe frowned upon this practice and up until one generation ago we were forbidden to marry into tribes that used to practice this. In some cases they preferred to marry foreigners than marry into a tribe that practiced cannabalism. 
The women were different. The women were and still are the dreamers, so most of their rituals and their teachings occurred in the dream or trance state. The use of what is known as blood magic wasn’t common and if it was it was usually associated with winning some kind of war or binding two families together in marriage. These days the preference is water drawn directly from the land we own. The use of blood in blessings or ceremonies is avoided.

However, like most cultures, there’s a darker side. Curses were always done with blood and / or murder depending on the curse. When in the dream state You sacrificed a part of yourself in their OWN dream state in order to bind them. It’s the equivalent to ripping off one of your own limbs and beating the shit out of them I guess. In the waking world you crafted something with the same intentions and invocations done in the dream state. Now you have a physical representation of what you did in the dream and if you’re a complete asshole you hand it to the person you did the binding on, and trick them into taking it on, their acceptance of it completes the bind in the flesh. It’s kind of like a voodoo doll from movies but without the pins. It was their belief that even if they lost it or gave it away, short of burning it AND unbinding it in a dream state, they were stuck with it. Forever. 
And so were the generations of both the person who did the binding and the one bound. 

It’s a dream about hexing someone. 

My culture never believed in the law of free will and I only just remembered that. 

Lessons to learn

As always I look for what I need to learn. This dream was more than just hexing and Magic. It was about the darkness that exists within me and it was time to heal it.
I drew him into my life for a reason. I have known great love and he wasn’t it. I am still grieving the loss of the only man I have ever really loved. The Dominus wasn’t that man. I know that I am not the one holding on to what we had he is. I am holding onto the rage and the sadness but that is something I can work through and let go of. He lost me a long time ago and I never truly had him in the first place.

There are really strong bonds between the Dominus and I. I still feel very connected to him at times and I resent it. That’s also something I need to work on.

He used to say we were similar. We were both love avoidants. We struggled to let people close to us. I realise that I can be so open at times and still not give a lot away when it comes to how I am feeling. We ARE similar it’s just that how we are different is what really matters and I need to remember that.

Things that stood out:  

The darkness: our relationship was passionate and it was volatile. Both of us tried to manoeuvre the other, using what the other felt for them in order to get them to do what they wanted. In my case it was usually defensive. I just wanted to be treated better. On a deeper level both of us had dark sides. Mine is masochism and his is sadism. We were like two sides of the same blade. Both of us had similar upbringings and both of us were damaged by them. A relationship with two broken people is automatically going to be a goddamn nightmare. I am furious about what he did to me and the abuse I suffered. There’s rage and resentment there. There’s the wish for him to suffer the way (or worse) he made me suffer. He has a tendency to play the victim and skate through life taking little to no responsibility or thought towards the pain he causes others. It infuriates me. I want him to see what he does to others and learn from it. It angers me that he doesn’t.

Underneath all of that though is sadness, grief and pain. It’s something I need to work through and I decided to go back to my therapist so I can process it.

The elements: They stood out but I really had nothing with this one sorry.

The hag: Holy shit do I need to work on my anger issues! It’s the kind of rage that can just start affect you deep within if you don’t release it and process it in a healthy way. 

The sigil:It was a friend (Thanks Dante) who said this: “The flow, laguz is about flow too.
Perhaps control in thus context, flow of thoughts. Like mind control?”

and this connected. It did remind me of his mind games and the very strange connection the Dominus and I share. Whenever he was in pain I would feel it as if it were my own. I would cry because I knew that he couldn’t. Tuning into him was painful and I would feel so much of what he was carrying in every part of my body. It’s not like that now but the memory of it is there. Something else I need to work on.

Honestly I hate flinging around labels but an empath is probably what I am. I also dislike that word too by the way.

Blood and binding: I think of energy, life force, bonds when I look at this.

The fight: I felt it was more of an energy thing between us. Our actual fights were explosive and painful.

The song: The lyrics have meaning. It felt like the death of the bond, the ties, the darkness. It felt more like a release than anything as I listened to it. It felt good.

I think that’s it. It was a dream that represented a part of myself I tried to bury. It’s scary to realise you have that much rage within you directed at a person that caused you so much pain. It’s scary to realise you weren’t really aware of it. It felt so alien because it was a part of me I was refusing to acknowledge.

The silver lining is that I can work on it now and be free of it.

This is honestly why I love my dreams.

The song is O death – Jen Titus. You can listen to it here: 

Movie / Title quote: Spartacus War of the damned.


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