nicholasI was living on a farm in northern England. In fact, it belonged to me. I was venturing outside in the late afternoon to check on my livestock. My proudest animals were a trio of enormous white goats with voluminous fur and enormous spiraling horns. It was an overcast day and drizzling. I was wearing Wellingtons and accompanied by my friend Lisa and a little scruffy farm mutt.
My dog was being a bit disobedient and I was chastising him for not staying near me. Lisa was complaining about her love life and I was impatient to see my goats. He scurried underneath a fence and I ran after him. We chased him across a field and lost him in some trees. I had to enter my neighbor’s farmhouse to get to the other side of a field to track him down. As soon as I entered the house I was greeted by my ex-girlfriend Justine and several of her friends. We basically bumped into each other in a doorway.
We were chest to chest in the door attempting to squeeze by each other with as little physical contact as possible. She said something sarcastic about the situation to which I retorted angrily. Her friends greeted me with open disdain. I was incredibly irritated by their whole vibe so I began arguing with them vehemently. I stepped fully into the room fuming with indignation as they begin haranguing me about a whole complex of issues. There was an enormous round, wooden, farm table with a beautiful meal laid out. Big ceramic crocks of milk, coarse loaves of bread, a platter of meats and cheeses, a veritable harvest feast. I grabbed the edge of the table and overturned the whole affair spraying the girls with food. I stormed out of the house laughing and ranting angrily at them over my shoulder.
I stepped outside into a massive meadow that gradually sloped up and ended at the edge of a beautiful city street. It looked like a stretch of townhouses in Chicago or San Francisco but more European. I was barefoot and making my way up the hill to a set of stairs that exited the park. There were three women behind me on the stairwell. They were all attractive and well dressed and it turned out we were all headed to the same bar at the top of the street. We stopped for a moment on the stairwell to meet each other. I sat down for a second to check my feet as they were quite dirty. They offered me some sort of fancy supplement to help me with my journey.
As soon as we kept walking I lost track of them and was walking on the outskirts of what seemed to be some sort of industrial area. It reminded me of a stretch of interstate near Philadelphia. I walked by an old TV set. On it was playing a video of a shamanic battle between two characters. I was friends with one of them who in my mind was the protagonist. He had just scored a major coup against the man pictured on the screen. Somehow he had managed to lodge an etheric dagger in the man’s midsection and his opponent was currently doubled over in pain, clutching his abdomen and coughing up yellow bile. I was friends with the winner of the battle but as it was happening psychically he was not pictured in the video feed.
The man who lost, I realized, lived around the corner and I wanted to go check on him even though he was clearly a dubious black shaman of no consequence. I entered his shanty-like room underneath the interstate. There were two other guys in there. One huge black guy with dreadlocks and another Hispanic man eating cereal. The black man was wearing one of my T-Shirts, which I notified him of promptly. I poked around the missing shamans’ belongings for a moment looking for a talisman to steal.
CRYING FIGHTING HINDU DEITIES MENTORS NEW AGE SHOPPING MALLS