There was a time when I kept a dream journal. I picked it up somewhere along the way of my studies at the time of stuff like Thelema, or anything Crowley related really, along with stuff like Tarot, Magick, or Castaneda. Anyway, there was meditation practice at the time too, so all of these interests was the place dream journaling came from. I left it for years but some months ago I picked it up again and that’s the idea for my book right there.
About the Author:
Agostino Scafidi is from Montreal, QC, Canada. He’s written three eBooks. He’s also a guitar player. Always been friends with creativity and exploration. Writes fiction of varying kinds.
Excerpt from his new book:
The Light Through The Fog
This was a ritual I dreaded from the very depths of my soul but is unwaveringly necessary that I fulfill it. There was a place I had to walk to every day, it wasn’t far from home but still it took a half hour to get there and come back. One positive thing about the whole ordeal was that the horrors would only surface on my return trip, going there would be right as rain. How could a single path be so tumultuous?
This strife of mine had been plaguing me for a number of days. It felt like it was always with me. Upon my return the sunlight would fade away and the ground would turn to a muddy swamp. I never saw any opportunity except to trudge through it and reach its end. When finally emerging I’d be soaked in a slimy black green sludge up to my thighs. Although the mess would wash off easily enough it was a blow to morale each and every day.
I had never ceased asking and pleading to any God that would hear to deliver me from this arduous daily penance I faced, alone and without respite. My prayers went unanswered and I begrudgingly resigned to my fate, but I never gave up hope that one day I’d be saved from this torment.
One day, a woman who had been watching me for the longest time through my grief and pain decided to enlighten me and lift me from my sadness. I looked upon her as if she was brought to me by the very grace of God himself. I beseeched the woman and pleaded with her to save me from my unrelenting torture. She kindly but firmly directed me towards the path of my salvation. Apparently this path was one I had been ignoring, unknowingly of course. Realizing it shocked me to my core, I could not for the life of me remember seeing any alternative to the path I have been taking. Surely if I did I would have tried it.
She relayed to me the way I could access this alternate path and I thanked her profusely. The next day I followed the woman’s instructions, tears fell from my eyes when I found myself traversing a sunlit path. Dry and peaceful, welcoming and warm. I had never given up hope and now it felt like I not only deserved to be free, but that I was meant to. I would never forget the woman or her kindness towards me and vowed to cherish and protect my freedom. I pledged to help anyone I may come across if they are seeking and unable to find.
Original dream journal entry, 26/04/2014
Was walking home from someplace nearby, taking the same path through the park every time. I’d always run into an area where there were deep swamp like puddles and the sunlight would disappear and everything would turn black as night. I’d manage to make it home every time but soaked up to my thighs in sticky sludge. A woman told me to walk on a different path, one that I didn’t realize was possible. So I did one day and there were no puddles and the sunlight remained.
Did you like the excerpt?
Buy his ebooks: http://agostinoscafidi.bigcartel.com/
Published: July 14, 2014
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