The last few days have been interesting. Libations were offered to a few gods. It was a little weird offering to Poseidon and Theseus. I’ve never been a fan of either, really. In fact, I absolutely hate water and avoid it except to bathe and/or not die of dehydration. I always get terribly seasick despite being born into a sailing family (my grandparents used to do the Mackinac race every year). Hell, swimming is a part of most Michigan public school curricula, and in many districts, you can’t graduate without it.
I did have a very odd dream last night, however. At first I was on a ship, with pirates. That didn’t last very long, as I was sent to hunt this giant white stag. It was probably six feet tall at the shoulder and living on a steep, Rocky Mountain covered in deep green mosses and lichens. The hunt occurred at night with moonlight, but I didn’t see what phase. I shot the stag, and somewhere along the course of the dream he transformed into a walrus. No clue why. Anyway, I sank probably twenty or so arrows deep into its flesh, but it just wouldn’t die. I went to fetch a knife, blue and very, very sharp, to end the poor beast, but it gave me this very sad look that said, “No, the knife is cheating, you must use the arrows.” That’s about where I woke up. I’m not one to remember dreams, and those I do remember are just the standard killing folks (I have those dreams a lot, because of war and all). This dream was oddly vivid and outside the normal symbolism of my dreamscape. Anyone care to interpret? Because I have a feeling this one means something. I made sure to thank whatever god it was that gave me the dream, but thanking is not understanding. Should be fun to learn, however. Until then, hail Ares!