2002-08-29 - 8:25 p.m.

I dreamt I was wandering through the desert... and none other than Aleister Crowley appeared.

Present in the air was some kind of tribal conflict.. he slowly pulled out a gun. I disarmed him. He flashes this twisted grin, and tells me

"I'll just have to slit your throat.. nice and slowlike"

The grin got even more perverse... red was sifting through the air. It was completely fucking terrifying. He felt ultimate pleasure from this desire to murder me. In the air hung something not exactly human... blood was splattering around him

I had some moves left in me. The blade was out of his hand.. we struggled, but suddenly i was at a different part of the desert

I looked around. a girl was nearby. I was wearing only a t-shirt (??) I went to hug her - or maybe it was to shake her.. im not quite sure. (She possibly was even Madame Blavatsky, one of Crowley's henchwomen??) A car drove by.. now that is one suspicious scene to witness. Here i was, wearing only a t-shirt, apparently struggling with someone, and a blade nearby.. blood had mysteriously materialized.

I had to get the fuck out of there

So I started dashing from fence to fence, like a possum. I would perch in someone's yard for a while, and observe events. I was on the run

I ended up somewhere else, umm, who are you? I didnt recognize what was going on. The sensation of unfinished business was still crawling through my body - I had yet to kill Crowley. It had to be done

Flashes of waking up and falling back asleep - the alarm goes off - what the fuck, Aleister Crowley, what?!?!? My psyche still had the residual effects of the dream - I woke still with that lingering feeling.. i had yet to confront Crowley