Dream about a Mage — February 23, 2017

I was at my childhood home. The carport was empty. Some idiots had parked in the front yard, something that never fails to irritate me in this particular dream. I turned my attention to a pile of books and notes in a darkened corner in the carport. I seemed to be in a hurry to learn something, and I seemed to recognize the information being about spellwork.

My attention was drawn to this man that stood in the middle of the street, near the driveway. He had wavy, chestnut hair that cascaded past his shoulders. He wore burgundy-colored silk robes that were quite ornate. I didn’t sense him as a “threat”. He made it clear that he wanted me as his wife. As a measure of good faith, he gestured, and the cars that were on the lawn were hurled far away.

I then noticed that he had a group of people following him. One of them, the mage said was an angel that he’d captured. He ordered her to sing; that was the wedding ceremony. The other people, five or six of them, were witnesses.

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