The week before the Con I came down with Flu. Wednesday night, I decided not to go, and Thursday morning, my dreams were full of spirits pressuring me to attend the Con anyway. It was so important that I attend this year. Calendars are thrust into my hand. Con Schedules and events for me to attend, I MUST ATTEND. There were so many imperative events, all of them began with the letter “A” which meant that if I refused these, there was a whole alphabet of Con events left for me to refuse before the pressure was off. I tried to schedule them all, but knew I was too sick to attend. I started to get some consciousness in the dream, and could see that the Astral above San Jose was full of fretful witches, packing their costumes and their spells, their herbs and their wares, wondering what would happen, flying back and forth between each other’s beds making sure all preparations were complete.

I woke mentally exhausted, and sure that I had actually visited the place were much of my sister and brother pagans had been spending their dreamtime.