A Modern Christian Mystics Diary

Giuseppe Ricciotti was an Italian canon regular, Biblical scholar and archeologist acclaimed for his book Life of Christ published in 1941 and continually reprinted to this day. As I described in an earlier entry Life of Christ, I am in the process of recording the first audio book edition.

Dream: November 24, 2023

I become conscious of being in something akin to a living room, with what I perceive as a television ahead of me, and to my right is a couch. Everything is a soft yet also bright white. Very close to me on my left stands a totally dark figure slightly smaller than a human being and which I sense is not good. To my right, sitting on the couch facing the so-called television, is another dark figure which is human like me. I know what's happening on the screen is what I am completely absorbed in now, the Life of Christ.
As the screen goes blank, before the story begins flowing again I sense-know the non-human entity to my left (and perhaps there's another one near the TV) is attempting to interrupt and sabotage the broadcast. Immediately, I go and sit beside the silhouette on the couch I feel-know is good, and picking up the remote-control lying on the coffee table direct it at the television to try and stop what the evil shadows are attempting to do.
"You beat me to it," says the man beside me as he puts down his own remote-control, and even though I can't see his facial features because we're both silhouettes, I detect the approving humor in his voice at how quickly I reacted to the interference and did something about it.
But not satisfied myself, I reply, "I should have turned it off, not just paused it." But at least for the time being, I succeeded in somehow protecting the broadcast from further attempts at sabotage. I feel I know, and am very comfortable with, the man beside me. . .
As I wake up, I immediately sense I was with Giuseppe Ricciotti! I went to bed more than a little worried at how well I would do in the morning recording the chapter The Garden of Gethsemane. My dog, Arthur got me up earlier than ever at around 3:30, but it didn't matter because I was already awake, and directly after breakfast I sat down to record the chapter. It actually went more smoothly than most of the other chapters, and I have no doubt I received mysterious help from that brief dream encounter with the book's author.

Dream: November 27, 2023

In my dark bedroom (sitting where I actually am now as I type this on my bed with my back against the large tapestry embroidered with a beautiful garden and its curving path) I have become aware of an evil force-presence concentrated around my computer monitor “enthroned” at the center of the top level of my desk. I am neither surprised or actually frightened, because although this evil presence has “sucked” all the light of my bedroom-office, I can sense it’s concentrated and confined to the reason why it’s here: the monitor that everyday for three months has been displaying audio wave files as I record and edit the files for Life of Christ. . .

I’m running outside at night surrounded by open spacious grounds belonging to the large structure which is my destination. Even from a distance, when I perceive the figure of a man sitting just outside the entrance, I realize how important it is that I not try to make him be the person I think he is or want him to be; I must see who he truly is. I’m moving fast, and as I reach the entrance, I distinctly see a man’s face and don’t recognize it; he’s definitely not someone I know. He meets my eyes but says nothing as I enter what I know is sacred space.

I slow down as I find myself in a spacious stone foyer devoid of all furnishings or any visible source of lighting, but I can clearly distinguish two men – both wearing dark ankle-length vestments – where they sit on a stone bench set in the wall. The dark-haired priest on my left and closest to the door speaks to me. He asks me a question, and as I continue walking to the right (away from them and deeper into the building) looking back at his earnestly calm face I reply with fervent conviction, “I’m positive I want to be here!”

Still moving fast, I descend a level in this holy place, where I encounter a female in an inner courtyard open to the dark sky above who wants me to go somewhere with her. I’m surprised to encounter her here, but my progress slowed now, I let her lead me into a doorless brightly lit space opening off the courtyard. But while I’m with her there (only vaguely aware of what she’s showing and telling me) I abruptly remember I have an appointment with the priest who spoke to me!

Suddenly afraid I might have missed him, I hurry back out into the courtyard, where I’m greatly relieved to see him. When I run up to him, he asks me a question (the gist of which was “who led you astray?”) and I respond, “It was a fairy!” only in that instant realizing she actually was a fairy even though she looked just like a pretty young woman. I am extremely glad I didn’t miss my appointment with this priest, who I feel very close to and trust implicitly. . .

Night. . . I’m walking with a woman on the grounds of the sacred structure I ran toward earlier and where I now live. There are no streetlights, yet I can still see the paths and grounds as though they are illuminated by a hidden full moon. Together we enter a small structure where a man is standing behind the counter. It feels rather like the official Post Office of the place. He explains to us that it’s too early to check for mail because it never comes in before 8:00. a.m. so we leave.

Some time later returning with the same woman to check for our mail again, this time the man greets us at the door. Then focusing directly on me he asks, “Is it hard to be an author?” and I promptly reply, “It’s hard to be an author anyone reads.” Meaning writing isn’t the hard part at all, you can write anything you want to, but that doesn’t necessarily mean people are going to read what you write, especially if it’s not mainstream. We’re standing beside a window, and he now gazes out at the view with what strikes me as a rather pretentious earnestness. Following his stare, I perceive far in the distance a tall thin column evocative of a minaret or an ancient pagan pillar. A bit dreamily, he tells me how gazing out at this majestic view makes him feel inspired to write something about it. I’m not impressed, on the contrary; there’s something suspicious about how profoundly affected he is by a Muslim and/or pagan structure, especially considering where he works.

The deepest darkest night… I’m running with my little dog, Arthur, who is pulling on the extremely long leash as he races fearlessly ahead of me down the street I grew up on, Old Post Road. As he sprints straight into my old front yard, I’m afraid he might encounter some creature there that will hurt him. But instead I see him touching noses with what feels like a girl dog his same size who clearly poses no threat.

Dream Notes:

I feel, and do not doubt, the priest who seemed to be waiting for me, and who spoke to me, and who later met with me was/is Giuseppe Ricciotti. As in my first dream with him, this night’s dream featured an angry evil force/presence concentrated over my monitor, which for three months now (and will continue well into December) has been alive with audio wave files broadcasting The Life of Christ. Yesterday, I finished editing the chapter in which Jesus speaks to God His Father on our behalf at the end of the Last Supper. I don’t know how any human being who reads/listens to all He said that night cannot fall in love with Jesus Christ! This particular translation of the original Greek text excels any of the others I have ever read.

It is rather fascinating I somehow knew the woman who tried to make me forget and miss my appointment with the priest was a fairy. Thanks to Walt Disney, I tend to picture fairies as kind and pretty creatures, perhaps a bit mischievous at times, but certainly not evil. Turns out fairies derive from the Greek Fates, and other Underworld deities in Greek mythology.

“Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet describes Queen Mab in a way which marvelously illustrates the fairies’ ambivalence and their capacity for malice which can turn them into witches. In fact, the palaces which fairies conjure up to sparkle in the darkness vanish as suddenly and leave no more than a memory of the deception.”

-The Penguin Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols

Now this is very interesting, because although I know the woman took me into the bright room to show me many things, I don’t remember seeing anything at all in there. And as I spoke with the priest, when I glanced back at the small space with no doors, I saw that the room was indeed empty, yet I had been completely under my lovely guide’s spell. Until I abruptly remembered I had promised to meet the priest, and the anxiety and dismay I experienced fearing I might miss our appointment “woke” me up, so that I ran away from her in order to find him. And the instant the priest asked me who had led me astray, my soul mysteriously knew the answer for without even thinking about it I declared, “A fairy!” The surprise in my voice was genuine; the mind of my self really had no idea that pretty dream figure hadn’t been just another person like me. Then later on the man at the Post Office openly admired the pagan pillar on the horizon, and how it inspired him to try and write about it and similar marvels. The distracting interference of these two “dream figures” is obvious now. Unlike in my first dream with Father Ricciotti, last night the demonic shadows seemed to have been disguising what they really were.

When I first ran into the sacred building, I responded to Father Ricciotti’s question with the wholehearted assertion that I was positive I wanted to be there. And indeed it’s true, for dreams can serve as sacred antechambers between Heaven and earth.

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