So I just had one of the more powerful, scary magic experiences of my life.
I was hanging out with my dad in my living room talking about god-knows-what. We were kind of talking about magic. He was trying to talk me down from considering it. Then a funny thing happened — we both saw something that should be impossible. A magazine with which I’m very familiar — the issue of Cabinet with the article on Boethius and his wheel of fortune, the one thing that most helped me get centered while I was in jail — was seen to be levitating several feet off the floor. I didn’t mean to point it out, I didn’t want it to be real, but I did anyways. My dad and I lost volition. Fell to the floor. Stared and stared. Our vision left us. I started talking, trying to talk my way out of believing, and my voice kept going but I heard no sound. I began trying to signal that we needed to cut it out, using the throat-slash hand gesture. My dad held tighter on to me, believing I was saying something more sinister. So then I couldn’t gesture.
All of this really happened — in a dream I just woke up from. It’s the first dream I can remember since the last dream I can remember, which I had near the beginning of February. It was one of the scarier experiences I’ve had in a dream in awhile, because it’s comforting in a strange way.
It means that magic can’t really hurt you as long as it’s only a dream…
…
Got that?