What a night.

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I had to fight to wake this morning.  Like being in a riptide of sleep, I knew not to fight it directly.  I had set the alarm to cut sleep just a bit shy of a seven hour sleep.  I'm not sure if that was good or not.  For all I know, whenever that alarm went off, it would have been a fight this morning.  The first two times I simply knew, and just reset the alarm for an hour more.  After those were done, I began fighting, using the snooze bar.  There was nothing else I could do.  Either that or I could have just surrendered the day to sleep.  Though, sometimes, when I do that, it works.  Just not always.

I dreamed in there.  In one of the dreams I was speaking with a darkling.  Evil creatures intent on destruction.  It sometimes amazes me how well they know the full truth.  They simply don't care, choose otherwise.  Same with humans who have chosen to be their pets for whatever reasons.  Oh, in the dream, they were kin.  It's not like we don't know each other, and well.  Men don't understand, because of the oddities of death and flesh that they know.  But enemies, in reality, do talk fairly often and freely.  The war, for them, was lost long ago.  It would be like, among those who would and could, veterans speaking with their foreign adversaries years after a war.  And more, those who believe in their side still.  War in the spirit realm, is a thing of willpower.  St. Michael is with God much of the time, it is suggested.  Praising, but imbibing of God's will.  Angels did not war as men do, or Satan would be dead, as with the rest.  Think of it more like a scrum, in rugby.  It is raw will.  Only when they take flesh can they war like men, but they don't... fight well, in one sense.  Imagine powerful warriors, but ones who do not know anything but a full frontal assault.  They don't know ambush, flanking maneuvers, or even retreat.  Powerful, in some situations... mostly when at war on the side of men who are facing a much larger army, one which dismisses them and just sends in waves of attackers without care.  In a normal man war of give and take, flank and ambush, tactics and such, angels do... poorly.

Nephilim fought with both types, fallen and from the host on high.  And win.  Nephilim are like angels, but fight like men but with some fierce will as with angels.  Terrible in their abandon, yet crafty in the arts of war.  These also lost, but not to angels.  That took an act of God.  Even so, nephilim weren't Satanic.  Animals, nearly.  More, in a few ways.  But animals that won't die.  They die of flesh, as all things of flesh die, they just don't stay dead.  On the playing field, in a sport, when someone is hurt, they might be removed from the game.  But they come back, or are retired, it isn't the end.  Earth, to such, is the game field, and death is merely an injury.  I am not sure how the return functions.  I have wondered if their genetics simply have to be remade.  Another option is a child that dies, or is murdered, in the womb, can become a new host.  Or specific ones.  Yes, I suspect my birth mother did, or attempted, that very thing.

In any case, nephilim, once they become self-aware, remember the old ones.  I term them uncles, those being angels.  Angels I often call dragons.  If Lucifer wore the body of a snake, at one time with legs, as an at one time host on high, archangel actually, why would others not have done so as well, even among the host on high?  I know the punishment, the removal of legs, but that was for the guilty.  A bit of a tale, too, that.  I'll buy, but just as the flood ended life, it didn't end all life.  There really are exceptions.  Anyway, in remembering the old ones, and the old wars, there is talk among them.  They do know each other.  They might even like some of each of the others.  It is just that their wills are no longer in alignment or with nephilim, for the most part, never were.

And, so, we talked.  One of my dark uncles was trying to convince me of something we both knew to be false.  Among other nephilim, who also knew it to be false, he would be given a pass on that in order that a pass be given in return on other lies for the preference of the dark nephilim.  I have no such want of a pass on lies, for I do not believe in them or accept them.  A fool, ignorant, sure, but not willfully accepting of untruth.  I merely told him he should remember the time before tongues were split so as to counterfeit truth.  He merely chuckled, and told me I had a split tongue.  Which is true, but not for the sake of lies.  He knows well that I have a split tongue in order to allow the various natures of man to understand.  I once used it to parse truth to my advantage, much as money changers cheated customers in the temple, but that I surrendered that dark gift as well as one bearing flesh, and limited by it, may.  Now I use it, as well as I may, that some may understand from a slightly different perspective.

Still, we spoke of the old days.  Angels do not care much for war as men do them, or for the way angels fight.  They are not warriors.  None of them, if some are better at it.  They really prefer to do their tasks, more often divine, or now fallen, bureaucrats of sorts.  Messages are sent, small acts may be performed, and little things of good or evil may be performed through men.  Angels can, sort of, enhance a man's ability.  But the meat of any miracle comes through the faith or treachery of the man.  Angels just can make way to connect the dots and make the event go forth.  There is possession, but that isn't what many think.  Imagine, having no skills, but being put in an airplane or helicopter mid-air, and then having to figure out controls and such.  It ends in a terrible wreck.  The flesh itself fights the will of the possessor, and for some who have a will that isn't to evil, some parts of them fight the possessor as well.  I don't think they can possess nephilim at all.  We are stronger, the power of angels and the flesh of men.  Couldn't storm heaven... God, as Lucifer and co. found out.  Some say, when we are in a time-out, that the darker of our spirit forms may also possess, what the bible differentiates as devil and demonic possession.

I don't know where all else the dream traveled, but I spoke with him for a while.  He had been a favored uncle, back in the day.  He already fallen by the time I came to be, but I was not with God at the time.  I am not sure my good uncles would speak with me, even know.  Even choosing to follow God, I am of flesh, and spirit, and am just as in need of Christ as any other of flesh.  They... don't look fondly on men for this failing.  While they do God's will, and guide, help with miracles, even guard men, and maintain some balance in the world, their love of man is... limited.  Their love of my kind less.  Still, we conversed.  I won't say I tried to save him, but I would not allow for his lies, either.  Pray you don't meet him in a dream.  He is not one you would want to meet.

Crazy dreams.  All of that story was sort of remembered in it.  Much like if you had not been in your old highschool in decades, but went in one day and... could find your lockers, the one you used in the main hall, and the one you used for P.E.  Remembering various home rooms, visualizing your teachers, favored or otherwise, and little stories from your time there.  Almost seeing the ghosts of your youth.  That girl you wanted to date, but she was a senior while you were a freshmen, or who seemed just out of your reach, the guy you did or almost got into a fight with, some of the hazing, some of the glory and shame of it all.  It all came alive, in my mind, in the dream.  Still, I lost most of it.

Now, remember, just a dream, a dream based on a story line I have built, if based roughly on theology, mind you.  Don't go getting holy water, crucifixes, wolves' bane, mallet and hammer, preparing to storm my cave.  I'd hate to have to put you down.  Mostly.  Though if you were reasonable, I'd put on a fresh pot of coffee and discuss much.  Even suggesting a better monster killing kit.  You actually can't kill.  That is God's province.  If such a task exists, and you are called to do it, your faith and simple mundane tools will see you to success quite nicely.  A pistol, not a stake... a rifle, not wolves' bane.  If even that will probably be through you, by an angel... or several... depending on the job.  I haven't put the dream in order, I merely... wrote down what I remembered as I remembered it.  One thing pinging off another, until I emptied my head of what of it remained.  Not even sure it tracks or makes sense.  You know how dreams go, and that first bit of waking.  I'll review later, to see if I wrote it right.  As per recall.  A "not" where it doesn't belong, or a perspective that is off, can make a huge difference.

Ugh...  Time to wake up I think.  I'll have another sip or two of coffee, then see about a cup for the shaving soap, the shaving soap, and that honing material for the cloth strop.  I'm a bit nervous.  But I said, if I could clear the kitchen table I would do this, and so I mean to.  Later.