A few weeks ago I tried a new technique for producing visions and magickal effects. It is not yet time to share the methodology behind this, however it has yielded some wonderful results. Here is a journal entry for a path that I traveled. My intention was simple: “See whatever vision is appropriate for me in this moment”. And that is exactly what I got.
I lay down and close my eyes. After a few moments in this state, I see a doorway. I step forward and open it. Lyrics from the song Pure Imagination float through my head. “If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world? There’s nothing to it.”
Beyond the door is the snowcapped peak of a mountain under dark grey clouds. Stepping through it, I’m on a descending path. I say path but there’s no manmade path here. However it is indeed a route down. I walk forward into the snow, which is so deep that it passes my knees. After making my way down a bit, the snow gives out under my feet and I fall down a hole.
Looking up I don’t see a way out of where I fell from, but I am in a cave that moves deeper into the ground. I take a few steps and from around a bend in the cave an anthropomorphic frog-like person wearing a vest approaches me. I feel its cold, wet hands as it takes mine in his and we walk further into the cave.
We come to a rickety wooden boat next to a fast flowing stream. The frogman helps me get into it and we begin riding down, moving faster and faster. The boat smashes into rocks as the stream turns to dangerous rapids and begins to take on water. It splinters and smashes into my legs. Soon we plunge over a waterfall, falling out of the boat and hundreds of feet into a deep subterranean lake.
I sink to the very bottom of the lake and sit on its sandy floor in darkness. Small lights float out of the blackness, encircling me. I glimpse creatures reminiscent of anglerfish. I try to walk forward past the circle and one lunges at me, biting me on the arm. I shake it off, and find that the whole lake has begun to drain. Not far away is a whirlpool around a hole in the bottom of the lake. I let myself be pulled into it, swirling so fast it makes me dizzy for a moment, before getting stuck in the hole. There’s an immense pressure above me, and I shoot downward out of the hole like a cork from a bottle.
I slam into a grass field inside a lower cave. There is a thin mist hanging over the ground, and the grass is wet, like from dew. There are what I would call “classically ghostly figures” floating around. They look like people in old clothing, slightly blue, and translucent. They all have something wrong with them. Disfigured faces, holes in them, like they are murder victims or suffered some serious accident. I reach to touch one and my hand passes through, but it feels like touching dry ice: cold so cold that it burns.
I walk through this field and see it ends at a cliff, with a ladder leading down. I begin descending the ladder and pass an area of rock that seems porous, like a sponge or pumice stone. I keep climbing down and what little light there is here stops. I am in blackness again as I get off the bottom of the ladder.
A slightly translucent blue female figure approaches from the darkness wearing scraps of cloth that float as if weightless. Her face has gaping holes where eyes would be and an extended jaw full of teeth like a shark. She grabs my hand and pulls me forward and we float into the darkness. I can feel air blowing past me, but get no other sense that we are moving. She lets go, and I am left floating alone.
From below I see, literally, a pinpoint of light. I move closer and reveal that it’s a point of light reflecting off the end of a long metal pin. It suddenly stabs upward, into my shoulder, and pulls me down fast.
I find myself standing up from the rock floor where I landed, covered in all sorts of insects. Centipedes and cockroaches. I brush them off and look around. There are huge holes in the ground with thin paths between them. Looking into one I see monstrous, doglike creatures. Another has pigs. It stinks here, a foul stench of dung and corpses.
I walk the narrow paths and come to another door. I open it and find myself outside on a grassy hill with the sun shining. There is a town in the valley below. I walk down to it only to find that it is made of paper. I could knock over a building with the slightest touch. The thought comes to me that if a single spark touched this place it would be instantly gone in a flash of fire.
From the town there is a brick road leading away. I follow it and find a place where it splits. Right would ascend a hill, left would descend into another valley. I choose left and continue onward.
I again find myself in the dark. At first I think it is a foggy night with snow, but then I realize I am surrounded by black smoke with ash falling around me. I cannot see the fire past the smoke. Looking down there is a wooden floor beneath me, and there are human faces showing horrified expressions in the grain.
Walking around a bit, I come to a wheelchair. I sit and a hole opens up underneath and behind it. It is on some sort of rail and slides backwards down into the hole. Moving in reverse at high speed, going over numerous bumps that jostle me about, it eventually slams into the end of its track and flips over, and I spill out onto the ground.
I am standing on the rock covered shore of an ocean. Smooth stones line the border, polished by untold years of tides. It is icy cold, but the water is only a few centimeters deep. It is covered with frost. Not seeing anywhere else to go, I step forward into the water. Each step I take, the water gets a tiny bit higher. When it passes my ankles I can’t walk any further because it has frozen around me.
With a strong pull I free one leg, but stumble forward. My face smashes into the ice, and through it, like glass breaking around me.
I am in complete darkness. It is cold. It is completely quiet. There is not even any thought here. Just frigid, silent, perpetual existence.
I’m not sure how long I was there, but at some point I realized my physical eyes were open and I was looking at the wall of the room.
Standing, I check a clock and see my journey took approximately 40 minutes real-time, but felt like an eternity. I am physically ice cold and a blanket provides little comfort.
My intention for this journey was “See whatever vision is appropriate for me in this moment” and that is exactly what I got. My vision was a view of every step I had taken spiritually to get to the point where I currently stood, starting from where I was and working back to the beginning, and seen from the underside of things.
A tautological journey: What is “appropriate” for me to see is everything that I’ve already seen. If seeing further was appropriate, then I already would have seen further. The magick here was seeing it from the opposite side.
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