It's Never Easy to Touch a Ghost

12/29/2025 –

I’m witnessing this incredibly odd display. It looks like beach animals of some variety. Like those holes you see that actually have animals living in them. A bit like that except that these animals have hair. You can kind of see them under the surface and when they do their air poofing thing, these locks of teased blonde hair jet out of the ground holes, hanging briefly 12 inches above them before falling back into the holes. The thing that’s strangest about this has to do with how I’m controlling the action with internal gestures. It feels like hitting buttons in a video game on the inside or some shit. After this I’m confronted with the declaration:

“No one knows I’m the rain king!”

I suppose not. I also suppose there’s some Counting Crows in my future. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

In the final vision, I’m looking at this young woman with thick dirty blonde hair, who’s supposedly a porn star. It’s like a screen portrait and I’m told she’s not the one. This is not the woman you’re looking for. Now I’m like this sperm-like entity and I ascend through an arranged pattern of very much Fallout looking retro-futuristic TV’s where each one of the screens has what appear to be the exact same images of the exact same thick dirty blonde-haired woman from before. I’m almost like a sperm as I fly up through these rusty screens. When I get next to a certain one I’m told:

“This is the right one.”

And yet they all look exactly the same to me. Different worlds. Different prototypes. This is the one that works with your plot-matrix. Also, this is not the way sperm operate. Here’s it’s all inverted which is fascinating. Everything’s weirder than we can possibly imagine.

In fact, while meditating on this in the morning I’m told that I’m going to have a bad day. This is the exact thought that’s going through my mind as I get in my first car accident in 24 years. I was wondering how that particular day could get bad, but this bad? No one was hurt at least.

The stranger part comes later in the night when I’m realizing I was warned about a “car crash” while meditating quite specifically a week back. I tried to expel magick that shit as quickly as I could. Just eliminate it from my mind because I hated it so much. I even went out of my way to not write about it. Won’t make that mistake again.

Maybe I could have prevented the whole ordeal if I wrote it down in the first place. Maybe that would have created a precog barrier stopping the whole event from occurring. Even if not, it would have been an amazing case of precog caught in action. Gotta do better Superman.

12/30/2025 –

I enter this very clear ganj-i-tation state. I’m looking across a lake-like waterway at this art cathedral that’s got a very unique circular architectural pattern across it’s face. I remember so many intricate details of the masterwork museum cathedral and am shocked at how much I recall instantaneously. This shock then leads to all of this glorious detail being immediately forgotten. Losing it so quickly was nearly as jarring as the spontaneity and complexity of the initial download.

Later this weird synesthesia action working with the car wreck I just got in. All of the wrecks are like these smooth polished rocks. The one I’m looking at is like a blue-skies polished rock. They’re colorful narratives. This makes so little sense to me at all. So many different colors. Car crashes as colorfully smooth polished rock narratives. Suuuure.

Much later I dig inside the narratives. The smooth rock facade is the sky and inside there are so many green and blue hued peacock people. We always knew these polished narratives were this intricately complex, didn’t we? I think we did.

I am also told I will struggle with insomnia on Monday upon getting off vacation. I’m writing that down in the hopes of deflecting it.

12/31/2025 –

Yet another dream where I’m supposed to be heading out somewhere but I can’t gather all my things. It’s a struggle. In this case though, it’s like my dad just vanished and he was the one planning the trip. This slightly taller tattooed prototypical “cool guy” helps me here and he’s very good at helping. There are a bunch of adventures I promptly forget but fuck. It looks like we pulled this shit together. I am going to make this flight after all.

Except that wait. Ummm, yeah, it actually left like 10 minutes ago? We couldn’t quite get there in time. Well, whatever. What to do now with my new tattooed cool guy friend. Honestly, it feels like a lot but the only thing I recall is waking up in a tattoo chair more than confused by the dream within a dream shit going down. The artist is there with me and he lets me know he gave me the full Wolverine.

And with this I look back and there’s this image of myself in the old school yellow and blue Wolvey costume. I don’t see the tattoos but it’s like I feel the circular shining steel slash mark ink he just laid down and it is glorious. Full berserker. I am impressed.

After getting up I’m now back under and in another sitch where I’m in my grandparent’s old place in the Columbia Gorge. This pale younger woman with ear length auburn hair is phasing in and out of the walls, kind of like a slightly thicc-er spectral Molly Ringwald. She’s like a ghost. But not. At certain points it feels like I do have weird ghost sex with her during one of the phases where she’s materialized. It feels like that happened but my consciousness was warping around so much that’s only a feeling. It’s never easy touch a ghost, is it?

Then later one final sitch where I’m back in the Gorge house with my wife. Same bullshit about having to leave and packing up our stuff but in this case eventually we’re just like:

“Fuck it.”

There’s no reason we just can’t keep hanging out here. Which we do. That’s a bit different.

Okay, one final scenario. Here I’m dressed up in a suit walking around a table in some sort of business conference or official seeming event. We’re just populating this table and I’m saying to this one younger associate quite specifically:

“Do not enter unformed worlds. Seriously, just don’t do it.”

I somehow know that I’m talking from experience. Not worth it.

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