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Letter re: Dream [Israel and Aleister]

{February, 1996}

I was minding my own business. I haven't been even remotely involved with anything related to official magick in some time, I mean as far as reading, talking, studying, practicing goes.

Last night I found myself face to face with this painting; a portrait of Crowley. Not so much that it looked like he ever did; tough to explain. It was truly amazingly done, it managed to convey a huge amount of emotion and information and depth. Done in thick paints like the days of old, it had real texture as well as visuals. Yet it was dominantly in these odd greens and angles that gave it this rather Saturn-like, weird feeling, a bit of cold, impersonal and unearthly feeling as one of the many overtones.

I turned to Israel (Regardie, who created it) and I said, Israel, it's beautiful. You've captured so much of his energy, it's like the portrait is alive. You always did have such a gift for empathic insight, and this is real art! And yet, I think the greens are partly your own interpretation of him. I would have used less of those, and a bit more deep blues.

And he admitted that was likely the case, and then he reached out for me and we became like long ribbons, or maybe snakes or strings, and we wound around each other like a candy cane all the way out to the ends. It felt so strange, it was amazing! It was like I could feel my (astral?) body just thinning out and wrapping around his in a vortex-like spiral. He was a tremendously warm soul, and he gave me this feeling of real "maturity" is the only word I can put to it; I relaxed into him with a mix of gratitude and sensuousness and decided it had been too long and I'd really missed him.

Later in the dream, after Israel and I had been winding around each other, always going upward, having a tremendously good time (strangely close; not really sexual, I mean we didn't have normal bodies, but so intensely intimate it defies words) Aleister showed up to take a look at the portrait and comment on it. I had missed him I realized,, and I reached out to him and he took my hand and somehow was connected to Israel as well when he did. He didn't seem surprised that Israel and I were old friends, any more than that he and I seemed to be.

We contemplated the portrait as a "joined tripod unit of consciousness" for a bit.

Then Aleister pulled back so he was mostly an individual and said Yes, Israel, right about the blues--I see more of them in me than you do, but it's always been that way. And Israel and I directed our long swirled-entwined strings of bodies over closer to the portrait and looked at it again for awhile.

I decided that he is far more understanding of Crowley now than he had been when he was alive, or rather, that he now has fewer personal issues in the way of expressing his insight.

I woke up feeling like I had partly merged with him and was now not entirely the same person I had been before I went to sleep.

[end]

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