I see a grassland, mounds of tall grass evolving into distant swamp of mists and rotten trees. I had just walked out of some house. I peer over into the mist filled swamp in the distance. I shake a snake tail rattle that I have made in my signature style. I call with is Kikimora, the ancient female slavic deity. I call her forth from the unconscious, the water. She comes. I hide, especially my eyes. I do not dare look up at all when she aproaches. But I know she is here because her eyes shine light everywhere she is searching for me. She never finds me, but I feel her energy close above me darkness and violence just standing there. Lights from her eyes like spotlights. The dream ends.
The drowning spirit came. Just like the myth of sleeping beauty, or the story of the death of Sylvia Plath. An Atropos fate was delivered at birth from the voice of the dream. It declared that when I turned a certain age I would be unable to resist the serenity felt from being bodily submerged in water. I would then become obsessed, driven, hypnotized, and unconsciously walk towards water in any form. Suddenly flashes of myself in a bathtub, half sinking then rises then submerged again. The feeling of being called by the soothing waters. An opiod-like blanket. Then above me on a ledge sat a red and black zig-zagging stripped trickster spirit, head like my red mask. Its whole body red and black, and androgynous, with a grin like a cheshire cat. It showed me, in my minds eye in the dream, a dream within a dream; that I was part of the "myth of the drowned one' or 'the drowning path'. Then it showed me a place off the coast of British Columbia where I would be called to drown. My final resting place.