Critical Psychic Connections

11/4/2025 –

I’m looking at a guy in a skin toned rubber mask like the one in the film Possessor. He’s just chilling there in an airport lounge drinking a beer with mid-length blonde, tightly curled hair hanging out the back of the mask.

Now it cuts below this airport lounge level of reality into this very antiseptic looking environment that feels like a school or a hospital. This place feels interstitial. The flesh mask dude in the airport is being controlled by the hospital world in ways he’ll never understand. I see a floating syringe. My viewpoint pulls into to the tip. When focusing in even closer, I’m now seeing a tiny metal orb being dispensed from the syringe, seemingly into the fabric of this interstitial reality itself.

I’m now looking at a map of arthouse downtown Boston from above. It pulls into the main streets, then zooms in and changes focus. The streets between streets. That’s literally what I’m being shown and I know this immediately on an internal intuitive level. They look mostly invisible but there they are, making critical psychic connections.   

11/5/2025 –

I’m in a white walled, rather large second floor apartment that I’m taking to be my pad. It feels like my apartment even though I’ve never seen it before. Anyway, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, it’s like I’m magnetically pulled into what’s supposed to be my wife’s room. It’s got these flowing white curtains that are literally blowing in the breeze of a sunny day.

When I get in there, I realize something curious, which is that I’ve hired a prostitute. She’s this fit, I’d say mid 50’s woman lying face down in my wife’s bed, which is covered in layers of white sheets and blankets. She’s got chin length auburn hair with matching auburn lingerie. It’s a nice touch and she seems cool as far as I can tell. Why did I hire her if didn’t actually want to touch her though, you know?

And that’s the thing. I do not want to touch her. Buuuut, I could jerk off on her ass right? Like, that wouldn’t be a big deal? Yeah, nothing wrong with that. She does have a nice ass, it’d be a shame to waste it. And so she assumes the perfect position on her side looking out the window into the sun. I’m about to start but there’s someone at our door so she jumps up to answer. I’m looking at my watch and fuck. It’s 1:00pm. My wife is probably going to get home in like an hour and sometimes she comes home early.

Also, what is going on? It took her a while to answer the door. I ask why and she tells me she was talking with Ronny, who according to her is like a neighborhood legend. Everyone knows him. A vision enters my mind of this short older man warping around the apartment complex courtyard with this invisible energy congealing around him. I tell her that no, I do not know Ronny, which definitely surprises her. Me? Nah. Me not knowing someone everyone else in the neighborhood knows is right on brand.

Cool, that’s done then. Let’s get back to the whole jerking off on your ass thing, which of course, isn’t really cheating, is it? But on the other hand, a prostitute talking extensively to a guy everybody else in the neighborhood knows can’t be great. Seems like that might be problematic down the road. I saw the guy’s translucent ripple energy. Good thing my wife never talks to anyone either, I guess.

She assumes the perfect position once again and yet again it’s interrupted. This time, this odd concave energy warps inside the room from the windows. We’re being summoned by this shadowy yet somehow also bright sunny person. The next thing I know I’m outside at one of those like neighborhood picnic things. I’m getting that it’s for the people in our complex and the one right next to it. And yeah, the auburn-haired sex worker I hired is chatting everyone up. She’s the one that pulled us out here.

I’m bored and looking around. God, I never come to these things and maybe I should. Outside of my escort it seems like there’s maybe 1 other woman here. Mostly dudes, including one that looks just like Marc Maron but isn’t supposed to be him. I’m looking around thinking to myself how me being here with an escort isn’t great. They’re obviously going to remember her.

Mainly though, I still want to cum on her ass. Isn’t that what I paid for? Why did I even hire her exactly? Zero clue. My wife doesn’t talk to people much but this can’t be great. After a while of sitting there being anti-social though, I decide to go chat with the Marc Maron looking motherfucker and leave the dream with the general vibe I’m having a good time. I can’t help but think there’s a theme here about how having friends is maybe a better hobby than hiring sex workers. Nah.

The next thing I remember I’m doing the classic packing my things to leave thing that I always find myself up to. I remember genuinely being annoyed with how often this keeps cycling but does it make me go lucid? No.

Instead I’m out on the street by this brick townhouse complex where I was packing my gear and I’m meeting up with my dad. It’s a rainy night and a cramped side street right by the main arterial. I start bringing up where we’re going to go out to eat because that’s what we always do and he tells me that it isn’t that kind of hang.

Then the scenery like warps and I’m realizing it’s more like a vacation. He asks what I want to do but I do not remotely remember what I tell him. He’s cool with it, but he offers that he was more set on going to the UK. The second he says this, I start tearing up.

“I’ve never been to the UK.”

I barely choke out. Then we start walking up the cobblestone street together as the puddles impressively shimmer in the more real than real moonlight. The UK absolutely wasn’t my first choice but I feel good about it and he’s not going to be around much longer, so…

11/6/2025 –

Not much sleep because of a show but the words:

“Punch a hole!”

Enter my headspace in a liminal state. Then:

“Darwin.”

And:

“Cheating.”

Punching a hole through the fabric of reality. Mutating. Cheating.

Now I’m shown a vision of a super hero with a red costume with a yellow cape lying next to a long giant black capybara that’s slightly bigger than he is. I can feel the bliss energy emanating from one to the other as they get their super power snuggle on. It’s glorious.

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