Intro to the Repost: I was looking for a specific dream in my archives to repost because it ties in with the theme of Hallowe’en, but then I found this one. I’d forgotten about it. This one ties in with a few things I’ve been thinking and writing about recently.
I’ve been messing around with my blog’s pages in the header menu. Today it was with my About which includes a selfie of me copyrighted with my old deviantart account, called MoonVooDoo, which I recently deleted. I hadn’t visited it or uploaded anything new in a long time, and I’ve been simplifying my online (deviantart had updated their system in ways I couldn’t be bothered to understand, which is partly why I also recently deleted my Pinterest and Twitter, and why I deleted my tumblr months ago).
I loved MoonVooDoo, she was born during my Damaged & Dangerous tumblr time (my first tumblr was called Neptunaria), just before An Upturned Soul was born. MoonVooDoo gave me a new way to express myself and move beyond my self-imposed limitations and restrictions. I was reluctant to let her go, but she encouraged me to do so. It was time.
I’ve been following the Moon as it transits around my natal chart, today it is in Cancer in my 10th house of status, career, public image, etc. It’s aspecting quite a bit in the personal half of my chart, but… I think the influences today are more to do with transiting Mercury and Jupiter passing over my natal Neptune in Scorpio (which squares my natal Moon in the 12th – a position which is sometimes associated with vivid dreamers and dreams) in the 3rd house of communication and mental processes. Jupiter tends to expand everything it touches… but sometimes the expansion requires a contraction first, to take energy from here and redirect it there.
In my previous post I wrote about blogging, and this dream reminds me of the experience of blogging, of meeting and interacting with other bloggers, of reading the blogs and blog posts of others, etc. I mentioned something similar when I wrote this post – it was published on here in March 2013, I think this may have been one of the posts I carried over from tumblr.
It also reminds me of a conversation I had last night with my partner. We were playing Assassin’s Creed Odyssey (playing video games with your partner can reveal a lot to you about your relationship dynamics). We take it in turns.
He was playing and I went out of the room to get myself a cup of tea, when I came back he was in a throw-the-controller mood. He had taken on a big fort with lots of baddies, three tough mercenaries had shown up as well (these guys n’ gals move around and they’re brutal, sometimes they have fierce animal companions), and he’d ended up surrounded, overpowered, and had died.
He had to reload the last saved game which took him back to a while before he’d taken on the fort – to the last time the game had been saved which was just before I’d handed over the controller to him. He got annoyed with me for leaving the room and not being there to remind him to occasionally retreat to save progress. I had been doing that the night before… to the point where I was nagging and that had bothered me because I don’t like doing that.
I told him that even if I’d been in the room, I wouldn’t have said anything because I play the game my way (saving every few minutes because I’m always getting myself killed even when there’s no one around to kill me) and he plays the game his way (rarely saving, and taking on armies of bad guys all at once, one army after another, almost dying but usually managing to survive and come out victorious). What I had done the night before was a one-night-only (and I only did it then because he’d been playing while very tired so his reflexes weren’t as sharp, quick, as usual, and he was getting frustrated).
Our conversation went off on a tangent because I said – I’m implementing a new system upgrade in my mind (or something equally robotic sounding). He wanted me to nag him to save like I had the night before, I refused to do it. I said: It’s not my job to save people from themselves, especially if it’s just in a game, and besides I thought you enjoyed playing the game your way.
This reminded me of a comment I’d made on another blogger’s post. They’d mentioned blog stats, and posts which weren’t being read or getting many likes, and it sounded as though… I needed to wade in and share some info. Since I’d just finished writing a post about blogging, I was still sizzling with the need to share, so I shared.
Afterwards I thought: You shouldn’t have shared. It was nothing to do with the way they reacted to my share – they ‘Liked’ my comment, so did a couple of other bloggers. Astrologically that’s my natal Chiron in Pisces/NN in Aries (the healing wound/the karmic challenge), conjunct in the 7th house of one-on-one relationships which is atm being passed over by transiting Chiron Rx, talking.
In the past I would have been upset with myself for (well, just for talking with someone else) interfering, for going where I wasn’t wanted, for offering what wasn’t needed, and a bunch of other stories I told myself to make myself miserable, poking the wound… but now I’m not because I’ve finally figured something out about sharing myself with others. I do it but draw a clear line between myself and them – here’s me / here’s you.
Here’s how I play the game and I’ll share my way with you / here’s how you play the game and I’m interested in how you do it so please share with me too. I’ll be me / you be you.
I won’t try to make you be me too (one of me is enough), or tell you who I want you to be for me (fyi – I want you to be you)… if the way you play the game sometimes makes me anxious, or triggers the urge to interfere, I’ll just go and make myself a cup of tea. If that bothers you because you want me to watch you play, and perhaps nag you… until you eventually get annoyed with my nagging because it’s ruining the game for you when you play…
Oh, and yes, I’ll either learn to use the Spear of Leonidas in my own time or I won’t (I can only remember a few of the buttons to press, that one came after my memory card was already full), I know it’s lethal and will stop some of the deaths I go through when I play, but nagging me about it isn’t going to make it happen, it’s just going to piss off my Mars in Scorpio, and eventually my Pluto in the 1st.
That was a really good conversation we had, it… it’s like everything online and offline in my life at the moment is beautifully synchronised, it all connects up, and dances together magically… kind of like the characters in this dream:
Last night I went to a party. It was at an old mansion in the countryside which was owned by a polymath of the mysteries of life, death, and everything else. He had turned part of his house into a restaurant called MoonVooDoo. It was not a typical restaurant, it was not a restaurant at all, but the owner called it a restaurant. You couldn’t go there without being invited by the host, but he was a very sociable and welcoming man, who invited all those he felt would enjoy and feel at home in such a place.
It was a beautiful evening, and we dined outside. There was a long table on the lawn, surrounded by an odd assortment of antique chairs. Food and drinks of all sorts, for all tastes and palates, was laid before us. Brightly coloured lanterns were strung between tall trees. It was a whimsical Mad Hatter style of social gathering.
People came dressed as themselves. Some wore pyjamas, beachwear, jeans and t-shirts, elegant finery, fancy costumes, some wore nothing at all, but all wore what expressed their essential self.
There was lots of lively talking. Everyone spoke their truths openly, and no one felt the need to censor themselves or anyone else. There were debates, but no one felt compelled to win, or subdue, or claim power over others. Words bubbled like champagne. Communication flowed, this way and that. Free, wild, and vibrantly alive with energy.
There was listening too. From the heart. With all the senses. And understanding. We were all unique individuals sharing a moment of release from all the constraints of life as it usually is. Free for a night to be real, feel real, and not hide a single drop of the mind, body, and soul.
Then this marching band gate-crashed the party. The cacophony drove many of the diners into the house to seek shelter. The band were asked very politely to leave, but they were insistent that we needed to hear their disharmonious noise. They were Snooty Snoots. Who spoke the language of Faux Poshery. With bellies full of themselves. Ears closed. Mouths open. Eyes trained to only see what they wanted to see. And what they wanted to see was that they were the best, the elite, the perfect ones, and everything they did was what everyone else should be doing, only not as well as them. They carried their sense of entitlement in the form of grotesquely large and shiny instruments, too heavy to bear, yet impossible to put down.
I was outraged at their interruption of such a fabulous party. I rushed into the middle of the Snooty Snoots, and demanded that they leave. They looked down at me from a great height, and sneered with disdain. Who was I to tell them to leave. Did I not know who they were. They did as they pleased. I laughed, and pointed at their gold-embroidered, extravagant uniforms which were melting away as we spoke. I informed them that for every second that they trespassed, their painstakingly engineered false fronts would vanish into the nothingness from which they were created. Soon they would become human beings like the rest of us, but since they were not used to being human, they might find it too sudden and too frightening, and it might cause them to have a complete and utter meltdown.
The Snooty Snoots were suddenly overcome with fear, so much so that they could not remember how they had found their way onto the property. They were rushing around, bumping into each other, panic-stricken, but trying to appear composed, as though they knew what they were doing. I ushered them out through an old and crumbling ivy-covered gate, back into the unreality which was their domain. As each one crossed the threshold, they gasped with relief, once again breathing the rarefied air to which they were accustomed.
Only one looked back before he crossed. There was a silent sadness in his eyes. He was looking wistfully at a beautiful woman in a dress made of Autumn leaves. She was dancing around a bonfire, tempting the flames to set fire to her, but the flames loved her dance too much to harm her. For a moment I thought he might stay, risk the madness of being truly human, but he had sacrificed too much to become a Snooty Snoot. The infection ran deep, the cure would surely kill him. And so he left.
I returned to the party which was once again in full swing. The host came over and sat beside me. He smiled, and thanked me for my intervention. He said that the Snooty Snoots were always crashing his parties, and that he usually just waited for them to melt into the lawn as they made great fertiliser.
Of course this was a dream. But it is one which was very insistent about waking me up to remember it. It had a message for me. I think I know what that message is, as I know what was on my mind when I fell asleep. I was thinking about Twitter and tumblr, and the many people I have encountered through them. And some other bits and pieces. Paths taken, and not taken, and such. I would say more, but I’ve only had two hours sleep, and I feel a bit spaced out.
I would be curious to know what you think.
So, What is your interpretation of this dream, and does it also have a message for you?