Dream Journal from 10/11 August 2018

There was an older human man I was helping(?), and I gave him a piece of my sheet music for “In Getting So Now I Don’t Care,” the cover with Rudolph Valentino (which, as of date, I don’t yet own) to hold onto for luck.

We were in a shopping mall, which was designed without stairs, but with two full floors and a third tier in-between.

An hour later, he came running to me, saying that the page had been taken, he left it on a table to go to the bathroom, and when he returned, it was gone.

First, we checked all the wastebins and then a custodian said he saw the owner of a shop on the first level take it.

When we got to the shop, Olm was waiting for me and a girl, human woman, who said that she only worked there offered to show me that the page wasn’t in the shop. We looked through the shelves of old magazines and postcards, and couldn’t find any sheet music, much less mine. The shop was dimly lit, and glittered with crystals and old maps and globes.

Then the custodian from before came by, and asked, “Have you checked the box under the register, where she keeps stolen treasures?”

As Olm and I finally pried open the box, the owner came in – a bipedal puma-sphinx who growled when we took back the page.

“That costs $1,500, put it back.”

“It was stolen from me and it’s taped up and only one page. Even if it was especially rare, it wouldn’t cost that much.”

We walked out of the shop with it and slid up to the mid-tiers on the “aircase” and walked right out of the mall. As we walked away from the building, a force started to pull us back. Then it started to pull Olm and I apart, and we grasped for each other.

“Call the gods for help! They can break this!”

With the moon dark, my gut was to call Hekate, but Nyx appeared, and said, “We can’t help you, anymore. You no longer belong to us.”


He broke the force, and we ran.

Then I woke up.

The Truth about Pythagoreans


Aristophon, fr.9 (The Pythagorean, from Athenaeus, 4.161f)

“Dear Gods! Do we believe that the ancient Pythagoreans,
–the real Pythagoreans, I mean–were willingly filthy,
that they happily wore rough robes?
I don’t think that any of this is true.
Instead, because they had nothing, by necessity
they discovered a noble pretext for their poverty
and established rules suitable for poor men.
But if you offer them fish or meat
And they don’t nearly eat their fingers too,
I’ll let you hang me ten times.”

πρὸς τῶν θεῶν, οἰόμεθα τοὺς πάλαι ποτὲ
τοὺς Πυθαγοριστὰς γινομένους ὄντως ῥυπᾶν
ἑκόντας ἢ φορεῖν τρίβωνας ἡδέως;
οὐκ ἔστι τούτων οὐδέν, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ·
ἀλλ’ ἐξ ἀνάγκης, οὐκ ἔχοντες οὐδὲ ἕν,
τῆς εὐτελείας πρόφασιν εὑρόντες καλὴν
ὅρους ἔπηξαν τοῖς πένησι χρησίμους.
ἐπεὶ παράθες αὐτοῖσιν ἰχθῦς ἢ κρέας,
κἂν μὴ κατεσθίωσι καὶ τοὺς δακτύλους,
ἐθέλω κρέμασθαι δεκάκις.

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Aristophon the Comic poet (late 4th BCE), not to…

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