Wolf Moon Dreams

Altar ablaze for the full moon

It is hard to forget to honour the full moon when it is tattooed on your wrist and shines down on you from a foggy night sky. I poured more water over the holey stone in the little clay bowl I keep ever-filled for Old Woman. It’s polite to always have a drink for her. My mother brought it back from Ireland, raw on the outside and the bright clear blue of glaze on the inside. I dropped in my silver ring and anointed myself with water from head to toe. I poured whiskey in the goblet, slàinte Carline! I lit the beeswax candles, burned the incense, and set fire to some tobacco, blowing the smoke on my spirit fetiches. I switched the tarot card on the altar to the Queen of Swords for Aquarius. I dreamt often of this card last winter and know it holds hints of the future for me. In the Circle of Life Tarot it is an elven queen brandishing a sword astride a snowy owl flying over a snowy landscape.

Tarot card for Aquarius

I lit a candle for a very sick friend, it dissolved into a puddle aflame like tears of fire, the candle unburnt. In my dream we were together and a woolly bear caterpillar crawled across my hand. Its hairs were so long. “It will be a very cold winter,” I told her. She disappeared and suddenly I was leaving a bowl of pomegranate seeds as an offering in a graveyard.  I dreamed someone asked me to write down a list of the most beautiful people I know. I had no trouble writing down my friends’ names, but when it came to writing my own, I tried over and over, failing and having to erase it each time. I dreamed I argued with a friend. I dreamed of a beach by the sea, tangled with debris from a massive storm. I dreamed my home had a hidden room I’d never known about before and I turned it into a temple, painted green and covered in woodcarvings. I have gotten better at marking my dreams and what phase the moon is in when I dream them.

A blessing for a friend

I beat my bear hide drum with yew. I read the cards for myself. Conflict, the empress, and the beloved showed their faces to me. I blow out the candles. I paint poisonous plants in black and white and I write about blood and bones. Another full moon comes and goes.

Author Sarah

Illustrator and weaver of words. Witch. Forest siren with talons, succubic tendencies, a love of otherworldly beauty, poisonous plants, wild places and dead things.

More posts by Sarah

Join the discussion 7 Comments