findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch

[findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch]

Inner monologue

Finally recovered from her micro disaster that morning, Holly grumbled deviously in to the void to her bequeathed partner

"hey daemos, don't think for a second this means we're done with our conversation from this morning!"

Daemos, still sitting legs crossed, his chains splayed about in patterns of boredom and intrigue across his chamber "as if I have anywhere else to be"

Daemos, couldn't entirely understand her but maybe that had become by design. This mornings conversation was clearly insighting such a hellish storm to kick up, but she seems to be mastering her nerve to quell such terrors... he still remembers the old days it was left up to him and the other idols to war against the storms.

Such elaborate battles he could fondly recall, and the monsters that came from it. What thrills.

"Will lady astraea be attending with us one of these days?"

Daemos' voice echoed up the open space of his cell, a dizzying tower it seemed, so tall the light of day seemed to barely have space to enter. There was a pause. And uncomfortable pause that lasted longer than daemos could abide by his mistress. She could not answer.

Such was the cowardice of the dream keeper. A child god as immature as the next. Daemos resumed his meditation, feeling the coarseness of his horns, the texture so vivid and hyper real to the touch and his mind. Bone dry, flakey even.

Perhaps one day it will be him who is casted the role of monster to be conquered. It wouldn't be thw first time he supposed, but the dreamer has gotten more powerful, more deliberate.

Aestus, the half clockwork god, still remained a dead and empty shell among her storied worlds. For the wickedness he spelled his machinations could never be fully wiped clean, but his influence and will. That has remained silenced more than any other. Other than perhaps Great Margash, but even that beast was more of an elemental nusence.

From the shadows another voice still murmered, in the corners on the walls. After all this time daemos had almost forgotten where he was. He smirked. A purpose he still served, a future he still had.

-——---------------------------------------------------

Hours passed, a whole day passes, many trains of thought pass and conclude in their own ways. Holly has clearly moved on. But still she tries to stir the old demon. "Give it a rest girl." He grumbles in to the night air above him, eyes still shut in meditation.

...no reply, though he still feels the stirring with in her, even in this place. Daemos and the girl share a bond that has stood since her childhood, it's why all other attempts to conjur potent avatars to match him fail. He is apparently more real than the rest,-

"-or so the foolish girl may choose to believe"

"Your not supposed to interrupt my thoughts at these hours, daemos."

"Says the self proclaimed god that won't let us sleep." Retorted Daemos exasperatedly "it's been a day for you maybe but I've been in this tower for weeks on my side of the veil, I hope you realize that!"

Holly was indeed tired, and didn't feel like prodding her pet much more at this point. The slumber would be much. Much more gratifying... she knew there would be no more time for her tomorrow though. She dreamt a lullaby instead.

[findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch]

How to Draw Shorelines

[findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch]

Dream remembrance:

Since getting my drivers license and a vehicle of my own, having freedom has been a weird thing to actualize or reflect on. This dream resonated with one part of that.

For some nights now I've had this "town" I keep trying to drive through. It's winding roads and ups and downs, buildings packed together and parking lots awkwardly spaced and cut off from each other. I could hazard a guess which parts of real world towns ive driven through comprise these sections, but it hardly matters. The experience is universally disorienting and mildly anxious at all times. The traffic is often mild, but the path of roads, streets, turns and stops is bewildering at worst.

In last nights dream, I was out for pizza. I could have gone to the one that was in my dream town, but its paths and parking and service (to my dream self's recollection) was abborhent, so I chose to drive to the next town instead... I was painfully unsure where I was going, only that there was another town with descent pizza I was willing to travel to instead.

I passed through a semblance of my childhood town (another recurring vista I've noticed the last few weeks) , grassy and slowly being reconsumed by nature abandoned. I snaked my way uncertainly, through high ways and unfamiliar dirt roads, no longer sure how to get back to "familiar roads."

Eventually I somehow ended up at a house. It turned out it's where one of my sort of friends from high school was living now. John.

The story of what my childhood and experience with friendship was like is an an entire and whole other saga to go over another time, but needless to say John knew me before I transitioned as a girl, and while accepting of my changes is kind of embarrassing at times and very akward and fruatrating. He's moved around ALOT, is always always working, had many falling outs with room mates and friends, etc. so not only had it gotten harder to hang out or meet up in real life, it's just difficult keeping track what is even going on in his life ever, since most of it doesn't matter to him (so he tells it).

This new place he might have been sharing with old friends, maybe they were just visiting. It was visibly a former mansion estate type of building, heavily renovated and internally split up in to very typical rural apartments, a common sight irl. It was a bit worn and beaten, and the inside... it was a bit of a dump. Another common experience. Laundry trash tools etc. grime. I found the place quiete by accident, after going down stretch of highway road for so long I just turned at the first opportunity I could to take a break. The place was even stranger outside. An akward uphill driveway that buckled in the middle before reaching a far to small lot.

Later I found there was an entire half of the building that had clearly been neatly cut off and moved over a distance with some trees and shrubbery as a divider. Very neatly trimmed spires you might see at a golf club driving by. The other half there was so pristine to put the apartments to shame. It also seemed a single home, and not the Frankenstein of rooms and doors of the other. This pair of buildings was also surrounded by a hilly field, though it was some how very unwelcoming. Maybe because it was still the middle of winter and the grass was clearly still studded with ice melt, mud, dead grass and rocks. Unsure.

Anyways. John just happened to be outside, with his new buds, we awkwardly chatted a bit before John mentioned they were just on their way to also get pizza and if I wanted some. After hours lost I was up for someone else to drive instead so I said yes.

- I misunderstood apparently, as I turned back around to grab my wallet and keys, they had already left in their own vehicle... I was left alone, aside from a few of the other bros chilling in the mess of the apartment, watching tv or playing video games probably... I. Was. Devastated.

Stuck, stuck, stuck I thought to myself. I could leave if I wanted, but I knew not where to go, I thought about just going and trying to spot the boys on the road, I drove out a little bit and turned around shortly though, the stress and anxiety burrowing in to me swiftly. I spent maybe 10+ minutes awkwardly trying to park myself again, first discovering the weird other half of the building, and than fighting with myself where I as a guest was safe to park.

It was always this odd isolation and abandonment and confusion that seems to follow my relationship with John or any former friends from school. As I considered leaving on my own to never look back. A plow truck, the one that had been busy around the sides of the road here decided to pull in and park. It was than I realized it was a hover vehicle, floating several feet of the ground with some form of jet propulsion out of a sci fi film. I watched it park and settle to the ground before I back out in my car, and just took off, more or less the way I came.

[findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch]

An unfinished dream - 2021?

Not a real dream, just the artistic expression.

References to stories and visions I never got around to fulfilling.

A pool of koi fish.

A spell bound space filled with stars and celestial masses.

A barren but sculpted landscape under eternal black sky and a silver sun.

An ocean world among collosal tree forms and even grander clockwork superstructures (unfinished)

A crimson realm buried in darkness and blood, its anxious prying eye ever watching,

[findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch]

(Werewolves and alchemy-1 Concept blurb)

Somewhere I found a fantasy concept relating were wolves as holy beasts, essentially hunting hounds dispatched by god*, that are vaguely associated with hell hounds by extension where in they roam the mortal world hunting unholy creatures or the undead or evil. Thus explaining why vampires and were wolves in many pieces of media are always arch rivals.

*(albeit involuntary chosen as god on average is very much an incomprehensible, inhuman eldritch presence even in real world texts)

So I thought about, if were wolves are holy monsters, does that make silver unholy if it is there weakness?

What does that say about mirrors which were usually made with silver sheets under glass, vampires have no reflection, but is that only for mirrors of silver? What about copper mirrors, of which the goddess Aphrodite and Venus were sometimes associated with, even further represented in alchemy and astrology as copper and the planet Venus eventually share some overlaps and associations.

In an alternative fantasy future, are tv screens made with literal magic silver screens sold by demonic salesmen? Are werewolves the rebel faction revolting against the advent of demon technology while vampires utilize it for stealth purposes, hiding in crowds and committing assassinations in public, completely untraceable on recordings and remote viewing devices?...

Though in traditional alchemy silver is also associated with the moon, opposite of gold and the sun, where as platinum shares the symbol of the moon and sun combined

Silver tarnishes, but gold doesn't. Neither does platinum if I recall.

All questions I should bring up with my writer friend...

[findings-of-a-dreamscape-witch]

Holland, Gargan, and Hobbs (updated 01/2025)

Holland was born in the east coast of North America, raised along the flooded hills of southern Vermont. His upbringing was rather mysterious, coming from protective and reclusive parents. His father, Orian, was a run of the mill laborer, and his mother, Ellied, also a labor worker, though far less known or seen.

If you were to ask the young Holland of his life, he would have just as little to say. Even of himself there seems very little to tell.

The year is 2220, Holland is on his way to a summer job aboard a shipping vessel. A rag tag shipping gig hobbled by some blow out company that used to be in to fishing. Hobbs&Gargan was only as infamous for their declining profits and even scarcer wages. The surviving founder, Jon Gargan, was in his elder years, consumed in debt and stubbornness.

The company was originally founded after the 15th major hurricane to hit Vermont in the last 100 years in an attempt to provide new fishing options in the local venue. After only 10 years however, the modest 120 man company had shifted focuses to multiple other specialties out of desperation as each venture returned less and less than the last. They now ran primarily as a private shipping company, known among the most tight mouth locals for its sometimes "only slightly less than legal" dealings in the trade market through the coast.

Holland, half listening as he chewed on his sandwich had never heard of Hobbs and Gargan, and least of all realized how unlikely he was to recieve a paycheck by the end of his term. Kieren, his buddy from school certainly wasn't excited to see him wasting his time on a crack shoot job like this, but there wasn't much else to do.

"So uh, you know where they'll send you yet?" Kieren asked tentativly

"Not a clue. Probably where ever there's water Im sure" mused Holland, distracted as he plucked an egregiously wilted piece of green leaf from his sandwich

"Real funny there pal-io" Kieren grinned sardonic and wide eyed, ever keen to theatrics "Clever to"

"Oh push off of it" Holland retorted "I've got to start somewhere, not like Im in for any better chances else where with how late Im starting in."

Kieren sighed heavily "I've told you, you just need a res to detail your skills, I could even put in a word for you at my work, even if you are an air head."

"I am an air head, idiot. I've been putting this off for years with my head in the clouds. Im late to the whole stupid thing. Wont matter where I start, its going to be miserable and wasteful no matter what. My skill is that I know when Im in the shit. Hows that for my res, uh?" Holland saved a few bites of the sandwich, wrapping it back in its original wax paper, stowing it gently away in his bag. As he stood from his lean spot on the wall he could see Kierens face furrowing at the onset of more head aches. A faint twist of frustration from yonder.

"Come one man you cant be walking around with a bag like that either man, you like an old cartoon crook"

"Oh my god could you just-"

"Or worse, like that? You like one of those cuffing errand girls prancing about with their shopping baskets dangling from their forarms, no business owner is going to take a boy like you seriously if you keep-"

Holland, rapidly short of temper, flailed his hands in Kierens face, interrupting his tiraid. It was nothing he hadn't heard before. It was nothing that was going to change his situation. So they moved on.