This dream took place, on Wednesday, December 1, 1993, as the Moon transited Cancer and my second house.  It was the fourth dream that day.  

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Whilst I was in a restaurant eating, next door and upstairs, a very noisy aerobics class was underway.  Merlin and I were together seated, alone at a deuce, by the café’s large storefront windows. 

To protest all the noise that was coming from the class upstairs, he got up and went next-door.  I had been with Merlin, admiringly looking on, as he tucked into his food. 

Whilst it struck my right, the light flooding in through the window struck his left profile.  He had also been admiringly looking at me as we both ate. 

It was so warm between us.  Very lucidly, I could see his left eye being wonderfully illumined by the intense sunlight. 

Immediately outside the door to the café, where we sat at a deuce, was a large awning such that the light striking our faces was being reflected up off the street.  The light was so gloriously soft and soul-caressing that it made Merlin look as if ethereal. 

I suppose it is an apt descriptive of where he is in his discarnate, between-lives state as an astral plane habitué.  He was not wearing a hat.  

Merlin was beautifully coiffed with a handsome healthy moustache and a full beard.  His hair was so clean.  The lighting left him looking as if porcelain-skinned. 

Goodness, this was such a clean and wholesome image of Merlin.  What was really coming through, however, was the purity of his soul itself. 

When he returned, he had a book with him as well as the Sunday New York Times.  Before coming back, as he passed outside before the window, he warmly smiled in at me. 

Then Merlin did the most magical of things… he extended me the paper.  Whereas I thought that he was simply showing me that he had gotten the newspaper, a copy of the coveted Sunday New York Times, he simply pushed the paper through the thick pane of glass. 

Until then, the pane of glass was a very real and solid barrier to the outside.  Whilst moving through the seemingly immalleable medium, it slowly did so as if in slow-motion through a stilled, aquatic medium. 

*Merlin, the shaman, was weaving his magic yet again.  This was such a sublime moment.  Here, he was exerting that formidable will of his and impressing me with his magic. 

How could I not have fallen in love… all over again?  I sat there being totally blown away.  I knew too that Merlin’s reason for doing this was how very much he simply loved being with me. 

As we had been sitting there together, he had warmed me throughout with the same familiar quiet glow that he exhibited each time – in the waking state – that we had taken a meal together.  Now here was he repaying me with this gentle loving caress. 

I immediately realised that he had used the excuse of going to complain about the noise, from the aerobics class upstairs and next door, to weave his magic.  He had stopped off to get himself a book but also to present me with the one gift that I loved having, on Sundays, when we lived together. 

To really impress how much he truly valued our love, Merlin weaved his magic by shoving the paper through the fabric of space – matter, dimensions.  It was much like that sword which made its way through into my solar plexus in the dreams, of Sunday, September 4, 1988^VIII. 

This is how Merlin chose to impress on my memory, how very real and very important, his being there with me was.  Merlin loved me and from time to time, just as he had promised prior to passing, he chose to send me some soul-warming postcards from the voyage up ahead on which he had set out before me. 

Merlin was intent on getting through to me and how handsomely he succeeded in doing so.  How utterly sublime this moment was. 

It was such a wickedly clever and sly bit of magic.  All that I could do was dissolve in soulful laughter, accepting and solidifying my love for him, whilst gladly taking the paper from him – gladly accepting the gift of his love for me. 

Of course, Merlin knew that I would not be taken aback by his shoving the Sunday New York Times through the thick pane of glass.  After all, many were the dreams that I had shared with him when incarnate of myself effortlessly moving through walls, panes of glass et al. 

Naturally, this ability of mine is readily validated in the dreams of both Thursday, September 12, 1996⁽²⁹⁾ and Saturday, August 10, 1991⁽²³⁾.  In said dreams, I was able to effortlessly move through walls and panes of glass thereby betraying my own magus abilities.  

He was one magus betraying his confidence and knowledge of my own magus nature.  It was a most beautiful way of validating our being kindred spirits.  END. 

I sat there eating, becoming more lucidly awakened, realising the impactfulness of what Merlin had just done.  Seated there, alone, I waited for him to come back through the doors and join me. 

By now I had stopped eating, whilst presently he returned and sat down slyly glancing across at me.  Merlin wore that same self-deprecating, though precocious, grin that had won us all over his lifelong in the waking state. 

Joining me anew, he directly looked into me, he did nothing but smile.  It was the most serene smile.  It was the conspiratorial smile of the magus, the transcended… Merlin. 

Merlin and I share a connection that is born at the level of soul.  This much is true, we know each other.  He looked at me, as if to say,

“I really know who you are, kiddo….” 

Alas, that truly was a very warming, beautiful and marvellous thing.  He was contented because whatever he has since learnt, for being in the discarnate state that he is in, has validated what he has always privately declared that he has suspected about me. 

It was a great intimacy that we shared. 

We sat there making love and dancing soul-to-soul.  Merlin and I knew that no time and no one could eclipse a love so real.  Ours was love born of the soul and the love of two trusty, companionable old friends. 

*Strangely enough, with the passing of this dream, I did not awaken as is customary.¹²⁰ 

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Photo:  The New York Times.

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