The light is our conscious mind and it is master of it’s own world.
But nestled inside is a Trojan horse; The ‘Other’ made safe. It is our nightly dream world!
We are placated and soothed as we drift away there. But it is just the herald and harbinger.
‘Outside’, surrounding and pressuring us is it’s well-spring and source; ‘The Other’ , but with ‘gloves off.’
We shrink and cower, wondering in turn if we are but it’s dream.
There is hope though. Our ‘building and discerning’ light has an outpost; Our own enclave in that unknown ‘crawling chaos’.
The ‘lucid dreamer’ transforms and is transformed.
The serious, sober, watcher on the high tower transformed in green splendour like a tree in spring; The nightmare world of unknown fears, now the pastoral lands of Arcady.
“I sent my soul through the invisible, Some letter of that after life to spell: And by and by my soul return’d to me, And answer’d: I myself am Heaven and Hell.” (Austin Osman Spare)