Okay, this is even more humiliating than usual, and you're all going to think I'm complete git when you're done reading. I really don't want to post this, but I've got to.
Thing is -- and this is the part that soulds really pathetic -- a month or so back I was stood out on the landing, watching the sunset, and I asked the guides for a prophesy. They were well into the idea and started saying stuff about an incident involving a train. I didn't pursue the line of enquiry because I knew I'd never actually report it in case I was wrong, but they reiterated the train incident thing several times, very clearly.
I was on the train yesterday, heading for the anti-terrorist vigil in Barcelona. I was feeling like I needed to make contact with something bigger than me, something more powerful, so I took out my notepad and called up the guides. I asked if they had any advice, if they could tell me what I should be doing.
They immediately brought up the train thing and said that
that is what I'm supposed to be doing in relation to such events: listening to the guides, reporting back to the world. Shaman, messenger, scribe. It's bittier and more fragmented than usual because I was generating a lot of anxiety noise and having a hard time hearing the guides.
Thing is: I don't trust this whole prophesy thing. Not because I don't trust the guides -- the gut feeling I get in relation to them is wholly benign. No, what I mistrust is my ability to retrive and relay information accurately. I also mistrust my ego: say I am right, say I get it right once or twice -- what if I start craving success so badly I make stuff up in my own head?
And this looks... you know, typing it out, it looks really lame. Like I'm using this horrible, horrible thing that's happened to puff myself up into something I'm not.
So anyway, those are my fears, and here's the conversation. Plain = me,
bold = them.
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Help me out here. What should I be doing?
We warned you, did we not?
Yes, you did. But that aside: what should I be doing now?
Report this warning wherever you think appropriate: This is only the first. There will be three such calamities. More are to perish.
This is in Europe?
Yes.
When?
Not more than one year hence. Expect the first in August, the second in winter's darkness.
August, and then sometime in winter?
It is fixed in flame, dear one. 15th of August. Beware.
Where?
The land of the tower of steel. [Sketchy; not hearing them clearly.]
Not helpful. What, is that Paris?
[Even sketchier; the words were coming with an effort.]
The tower of steel: the sun of gold and bronze. A painted sun sinks. More will perish; we mourn them.
Can't I stop this? Can't I do anything?
No*. You can only warn, and love, and grieve.
Why?
Your heart is closed, and falters. It flutters like a bird and then falls back. Your hand falters even now, as it has faltered before.
We are not gods. We are only as strong on earth as a thought is strong. Broken is the bridge that might let us reach.
How do I access the rest of the information?
With time. With practice. With patience. And the surcease of fear. Remember your dreams, scribe. Make this recall your meat and drink. In dreams there is much truth. Look to the cards, also.
Are you sure about the date? August 15th?
Yes. Now make prophesy for us.
What will occur then [on the 15th of August]?
A great place of commerce will suffer a calamity.
What, a mall? A supermarket?
One of the great edifices raised by your people in this time.**
[After that, I was only getting bits. It's too vague to be useful but I'm including it anyway.]
...In a city by a great river...
...Knights of a red cross. Beware. [NB: I got an image there, not like knights in armour, more like riot police]
...A tree in fruit and blossom at once, growing in ice. The Queen of Fire comes, and all tremble. [Image of a ship, an enormous ship like a big cruise ship or something. Then the image changes and I'm watching a plane explode in midair. I'm getting Spring, April/May, 50-60 dead.]
[At this point, Mael speaks.]
Forget not, in your grief, the hiunger of the silent millions; forget not the cries of the children and the lamentation of the bereaved. For their suffering is ever-present, and is not cut by suffering elsewhere.
When I walked the earth, to live was to suffer. Fifty summers was a great and venerable age. Only the most fortunate lived longer.
[Another image: Bodies frozen in ice. I get the impression that a plane has gone down or something in some icy place, because the people are wearing summer clothes, they don't look like hikers. I see a dark-haired man in a jumper, half-in, half out of the ice.]
*They later clarified this, saying "
It is beyond your powers." They seemed to be implying that other people have greater powers, and might help to curtail the damage, if not prevent it altogether.
**They're telling me 150,160 dead in this incident. Maybe 500 hurt?
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So there you go. File under Plot, Loss of, I guess.
