Dreams can be funny things. Last night's was not. The dream created some slight stress and a day of trying to piece things together.
Whenever My Gal and I work on making the Enochian tools, my dreams take on a peculiar quality. The only thing that really changes is the lighting. If you've ever changed from normal light bulbs to those that radiate a spectrum closer to sunlight, you'll know what I mean. Today, we worked on the Sigillum Dei Aemeth by completing our paper versions before carving into the wax. The dream preceded that activity but it had the Enochian light.
In the dream, I broke into a prison. Before going in, a disembodied voice told me that when 'they' came looking for me, all I had to do was know that I was invisible.
The day was comfortable and sunny. I walked up to the prison through an area that reminded me of the out door eating areas at the Getty Museum. I walked up to the a set of large windows and was given a visitor's badge. I knew the person gave me much more than that. The badge was an electronic swipe key that opened every door in the place. As I walked through doors, I simply believed I'd be admitted and so I was. At one point, I became aware that the guards became aware of my presence and began looking for me. When they entered the room I was in, I simply believed they could not see me. Several times, they'd look right at me but were obviously unaware of my presence. Once, someone came back into the concrete room I was in and said, "He must be here. There was no place else for him to go." He looked around, became confused, and left. As far as I know, I never reached my goal.
That goal was never made clear. I may have been working to release myself. My Gal has another idea which will remain between us.
When working on the Sigillum, reproduced above for your convenience, I noticed the crosses. They reminded me of various obstacles and helpers I met along the way in my dream. The Sigillum is a labyrinth at the very least. I can stretch the metaphor and see in it the jail I walked last night.
The astute reader my recognize this is my second post about dreaming of a jail.