I had a crazy dream the other night after all this other stuff blew over, when I realized what silliness I've been putting my brain through for the past year.  Or was it a dream?

One minute I was sleeping - or almost sleeping - in the early hours of dawn.  The next, I am descending.  I am descending lower and lower, passing by layers of world and layers of the earth until I stop at a bar.  Sounds like I'm reading too much Sookie Stackhouse, right?  So I'm in a bar, one of those Western-style salon-type bars, everything is made of wood, it's warm, it's stifling, smoke fills the air, and cowboys and tramps fill the chairs.  What am I doing here?

I still can't answer that completely, but I can tell you the feeling of happiness I had in this place - I belonged there.  I was one of those so-called "tramps" I saw, with ruffly skirts pulled up to fishnet tights, legs thrown over a man sucking on a cigar.  And I wasn't too surprised either, only a little excited at finding the place.  I believe I was lucid dreaming this whole time, maybe even having an astral experience of my own version of "hell".  Apparently hell is what you make of it, and it seemed darn good to me!, I thought, as I threw my own legs over a man's and earned my right to call myself a tramp.

Is this what's come of my disillusionment?  Did I ever really believe in a terrible place of torture and evil, as I so wished I could?

And now that I know I don't believe?  I guess everything will be okay after all.  Into hell, back out again, and somehow still alive.  Well, I'll be damned - I feel pretty good!

Signed yours,

On the Pagan path (for real this time),

Sanctuarie