This is a series centered around bringing a detailed personal account to the process of living and self-discovery as one identified by themselves and others as a "Cryptid," or a supernatural being most commonly depicted in folklore. It is designed to shed light on a possible way of life and stir up a community and conversation within that community about cryptozoology and what it means (possibly) to be a cryptid.
Slept with Jade to my left and Sodalite to my right with the aim of bringing on a dream to reveal something of my (possible) nature as a dragon--whether it be in a past life or otherwise hidden--perhaps in the mysterious first few years of my (this) life. Affirmation and thanks/glory given to God before bed, for I know that these stones are, like anything it seems, agents of the undeniable power of the Father. It would be foolish not to at least acknowledge this, no matter how entrenched one becomes in the arcane modes of divination (perhaps alluded to but definitely not explicitly commented on (at least in any significant length in canonical Catholic Biblical selections)). In any case, what energy I felt before sleep from these stones was felt in much clearer ways when I awoke the next day. If I have to take only that as progress, I will be reasonably satisfied.
Can't remember much from the actual dream. Woke up feeling a vague sadness, and struggled to remember anything at all as far as setting, actions, characters, etc. in the space between Jade and Sodalite. What I did remember, though, was a graveyard scene--all of my friends were there, of course. Dark, moonless sky above. I remember walking through the graves, how it felt to be searching so intently for something…
Soon we were all crowded around a big stone crypt (I can't remember any details about the other graves, whether or not they were raised in the same way). Its walls supported a lid about two to three feet above the ground. The lid itself was inscribed with a kind of script none of the others seemed to know how to read. Eventually we decided to lift the lid off, setting it on the side of the box and chipping a corner off of it--regrettably. I went in.
It was at this point, I believe, my dream switched locations altogether--apparently taking tips from the masterful directors whose techniques have always captivated my imagination--Alfred, Watanabe, etc.--and tossed me into an old dining room full of candle-smoke and waspy intrigue. The image of a man comes to mind, but the challenge to recall accurately its source defeats me. An idea comes to me that I was looking at a portrait of a man on the wall, being told his story by one of the older women (perhaps she was a widow? It's hard to say what was happening or anything about these characters, given I can hardly even remember the story). The impression I get from this tale is one of immense disappointment; the man, as I understand, died unfulfilled. Perhaps he was searching for some cryptid just like me; maybe he died on the hunt for some incredible game; there too was the sense that some sinister end befell him, possibly at the hands of his beloved (whether or not this was the voice who carried the story to me has yet to be decided).
There is another version: in it I am able to read the script on the lid of the crypt and am analysing it, perhaps silently, while the others deliberate on and eventually decide to remove the slab. The break still happens in this version, but I am instead angry, shouting at my friends and fussing over the destroyed pieces of some story left to the elements. These are the events and feelings I recalled when I awoke. Whether or not I would call this a success is irrelevant; it's simply too early to tell. I had noticed, however, that while my Sodalite was in the same place I left it that night, the Jade had found its way some two feet from my bed (I sleep on the floor--it's good for my back--so I find this bit of me tossing or kicking the Jade only somewhat interesting). If I am to have a connection with any of these figures, I only pray for a stronger memory when surfacing from the deep waters of sleep.
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