"To put the Marilyn Manson figure into context; I think Marilyn Manson is very intelligent and has a better handle on society than most people I know. I think he's a button pusher, but maybe a necessary one. But in my dream, he was just plain scary.

I'm also a rape survivor, which is why the sexual overtones were frightening. That experience, along with key others, has left me with a lot of unexpressed emotions.

When I woke up I just laid there a minute trying to make sense of it. It was one of those times you know your dream is significant so you have to remember it. I believe my dream was pointing out how afraid I am of my own rage... then it occurred to me that Marilyn Manson has had Morrighan aspects in his various guises... black stringy hair, blood, death, sex. I began to wonder if it wasn't some sort of "vision". It felt like a rock your world dream. I have never allowed myself to acknowledge that I'm afraid of my rage... or that I think it's a bad thing, like the rest of society that tries to swallow justified rage. Dream or vision, it was profound, and I'm trying to digest it all." Raven Fire
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©2001 david mulhern

I was in this place with my parents initially... some kind of marketplace and we were having a tour. We were in a jewelry shop where they had some silver bracelets with Pagan triple deity designs, spirals, etc. and the guide was trying to tell us they were Christian symbols.

There had been some other things that were bugging me in this same kind of way, so I finally spoke very sharply and said, "Those are NOT Christian designs, they are Pagan. That triple moon represents the phases of the Goddess, etc. etc." The woman kind of recoiled from me, but then tried to smooth it over. I was angry at being patronized, so I left.

I went to this really beat up old house and there was a woman there who was so drunk, obviously an alcoholic, that she could barely form words. I knew her -- my parents knew her too. She's this woman we knew when I was living in the Mohave desert in California. Her name was Darlene and she had this really bizarre marital break up. I was friends with her kids, one of whom is male and gave me the creeps. He wasn't in the dream, though. The other three were...And the oldest girl, her name was Sherry, she must have been 3 or 4 years older than me. A bigger deal when I was 9, I guess. She was in trouble a lot when we were kids. My parents hated her because they thought she was a bad influence, which made her all the more attractive to me.

In my dream, she had all these kids, but her mom was taking care of them. Her mom, the barely coherent alcoholic. I was kind of bugged by that, so I followed the mom home to see Sherry and tell her that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have her drunk mom taking care of these kids. She agreed, and took the kids.

I left and suddenly I was in this affluent, sort of cookie-cutter neighborhood. It was in the desert, nothing was growing, it was all landscaped with sand. My parents were gone. There were no trees. It was very sterile and sandy colored. I was staying with a friend (faceless and generic).

Marilyn Manson busted into our house and started screaming these terrible obscene things and threatening violence. But then it gets kinda weird...

He chased my friend upstairs, so I stood in the kitchen looking for weapons. I was afraid to confront him alone, so I ran out looking for help in suburbialand. No one would let me in.

Back in the house, I took two knives, putting one in the front waistband of my pants, the other in the back. I was going to kill him. There was a frightening sexual overtone of rape and torture. Before I could turn around to pursue him, he was suddenly right behind me. I'd been listening to him shout these awful things at my friend. I can't even remember what he was saying, but it was just full of rage... things that made me uncomfortable to hear. As I said, he suddenly appeared behind me and jumped me. I ended up on the ground with him leaning over me. We grappled and suddenly I was on top, knife out, ready to cut his throat. I was enraged.

He looked straight into my eyes and said, "Are you Wiccan?" It was so out of place that I stopped and stared at him. I asked him to repeat himself and he did.

I said, "Yes, I am." And he said, well then, why can't you understand that your rage is healthy, that the things I'm saying are things *you* should be saying?

I dropped the knife and sat back, struck dumb by the insight even in my dream.

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