Tuesday, 30 September 2014



When I read Jung I took to recording my dreams.
Most were clearly a reordering of the day's events.
Others were reoccurring themes that changed over time, eventually resolving into some kind of major change in how I approached the situation.

And then..there is a third kind of dream.

I don't usually remember my dreams now.
But the other night...I dreamt of Armageddon.

I'm hardly a card carrying Christian.
Armageddon is one more Ragnorok.

And also a location designating a troubled crossing between mountains and countries specifically Assyria and Egypt.

Nevertheless I found myself on the Clee Hill. A coach trip. We were going to the Ludlow fayre. The narrow road stretched around the hill like the Lambton worm.

Without any warning (this is the dream...) the coach driver pulled off the road and onto the hill itself.

The coach stopped at a crazy angle on the steep hill. The doors opened and we all got out to look at what the driver wished to show us.

A deep hole in the earth.

The driver said that this is the place where, at the end of the world, the Whore of Babylon will confront god the father and all his angels.

I heard myself say, 'Whore of Babylon? Oh well I will be OK then' which was something of a mistake.

At that point of recognition I felt the touch of lightning. Not a strike, I was not struck by lightning. It was the fizz and fire of static and light...

And, just like that!
Armageddon had begun.

Not with a bang
Nor a whimper

So I threw myself down into the grass to watch.

It began with a procession.
A sad parade of misery and tragic misunderstandings and paranoia that is the beginnings of war. It appeared as a festival, a confused Mardi Gras.

Floats of illogical, ugly, greedy and stupid, serpentine and misshapen.... a procession of politicians, beheadings and billion dollar black holes. I was in a land where the psychopathology of war is acceptable.Years ago fighter jets used to play at the Clee Hill, practising flying low under the radar.

Even in the dream, the meaning of the parade was easy to translate.

The floats are of this world.
The lightning was something more.
The only word I know is melammu.
"Supernatural glamour"

Therfore this dream was a mixture of type one -rehash of the day's events and stuff going on in the world- and a type three.