Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
The Obvious Question
In the dream, I'm back at school, talking with one of the popular kids.
“What's your field of study?” I ask, decidedly not one of the popular kids.
“Mars,” he tells me.
Insufferably pagan, I ask the obvious question.
“God or planet?”
He smiles.
“Well, both, of course,” he says.
For all that we come of, in effect, rival clans, I find myself warming towards him. Something is beginning here.
I return his smile.
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