The doorbell rang and I went to answer. I looked through the peephole and saw a tall, thin Filipino man with deeply tanned skin sitting on the porch. He wore glasses, navy blue pants, and a white button-down shirt. He carried a long-barreled golden gun. He must have noticed me looking at him through the peephole because he rose and lifted the gun to eye level.
Startled, I retreated from the peephole for a beat. When I dared look again, he was gone. I strained to look as far down the street as the limited field of vision allowed. He was nowhere to be seen. I sighed in relief and moved away from the door. When I turned around however, I saw him appear in the backyard as if from nowhere. This time he was wearing all black. He still carried the long, golden gun.
I ran into the master bedroom to call the police. Usually, in dreams like this, the horror of it is that I can’t reach the police, or that the 911 operator doesn’t believe my cause for calling. In this dream however, she did believe me and said the police were on their way. They arrived mere seconds later. Four of them wearing old-fashioned black uniforms with brass buttons ran into the backyard and began wrestling with the man, attempting to relieve him of his gun. He was stoic about the proceeding, but would not relinquish his grip.
As I watched the scene unfold in the backyard, I heard a clatter in the front of the house and ran to check it out. A hulking man, stripped to the waist had burst through the front door wielding a knife that, like the barrel of the golden gun, had a long, thin blade. The handle of the knife was a shining black with a gold tip at the end. The hilt was also gold. The man was of mixed Latino and Caucasian heritage. He was bald and had a long mustache.
Upon entering the house, he walked over to a friend of mine and stabbed her several times around the shoulders and upper abdomen. I ran over to him to pull him away. He grabbed me and spun me around. He stabbed me first in the left shoulder, then the left forearm, then the palms of my hands. As he did, he screamed at me that I had given him a bad tarot reading on which he staked his whole life and, because of that, had ended up in jail.
“You see this? You see this?” he screamed, referring to words and symbols he had carved into himself using that same knife. In the center of his chest was a circle, at the center of which were two triangles interlocking—one pointed up and the other down. Each triangle met in its lower third making something of a distorted star of David. They were the alchemical symbols for fire and water joined. In his belly he had carved three words, something like a muddled Latin. The first letters of the words were L. B. D. The last two were bleeding so badly, I could not make them out. The first word was Leodosious.
(Aside: “Theodosius”, a Latin derivation of the Greek name “Theodotos”, means “given by god”. In this case, “Leodosius” would then mean, “given by the lion”.)
He screamed something about how I “gave him the lion” and that this was most responsible for his misfortune.
As he raved, he took my head in his hands and held it in a vice grip as he rubbed my nose in the carving on his chest until my face was covered in his blood. He repeated, “You did this. You did all of this.”
When he pushed me away, I pled with him to let me give him another reading—to correct the misinformation I had given him, (though I knew the information I had given him had been correct). Mostly, I was stalling for time until the police, that were still in the backyard dealing with the first man, noticed what was going on and came to my aid.
He agreed to let me do one more reading and dragged me by my bloody left hand upstairs. As we walked, I noticed he had a carving on his back, between his shoulder blades. It was another circle at the center of which I first thought was the astrological symbol for Leo, but as I looked at it more closely, I realized it was the alchemical symbol for death. Placed as it was, there would be no way he could have carved that symbol on himself.
Once upstairs, we sat down at a long, bare folding table on which my Prisma Visions deck was set. It was like my waking world deck in every way except that its edges were not gilded in silver.
I sat across from him and pulled the deck between us. I could hear the police rushing around downstairs and, all of a sudden, felt an extreme pressure that I must complete this reading, even though originally my offer to read was only a means of buying time.
I heard the heavy footsteps of the police on the stairs and I whispered to the bloody man, “We only have time for one—one card—a one card reading. Pick one from anywhere in the deck. Quickly. Quickly.”
Just as he had his fingers on his card of choice, the police rushed into the room and began to wrestle him away. He managed to flip the card over before they restrained his hands. The card was “4 of Inks”. The background of the card was a dark blue swirling into a deep pink. In the center of the card was the same symbol he had carved on his chest, but in shining gold.
The card was a shock. I had never seen “Inks” before and had no idea what a “4 of Inks” might mean. My mind raced: What might “Inks” stand for? What is the general theme of fours in the suits?
The police almost had him down, so I went with the first words that came to mind. It was the general reading you would give for the 7 of Cups. “You have many paths ahead of you…” I screamed into the fray. “There is poison in your choices,” a gun went off. The man had been shot in his right shoulder. He went down. As he fell, I screamed again, “Poison in your choices!”
The police shot him several more times, all down his right arm, in his left shoulder, and one straight into his ribcage. As they dragged him away, he was still breathing, muttering something about how there was still life in his motor—how the old girl would still run even if she was shot up. He began to hum and sputter then, just like an old motor would.
He and the police disappeared down the stairs.
I looked at the 4 of Inks still lying face up on the table. In that instant, it revealed its meaning to me. I had a vision of a blue circle, meaning deep consciousness, uniting with a gold circle, meaning action and manifestation. The 4 of Inks meant, “All of your dreams will come to concrete fruition.”
It was a card that would normally be a cause to celebrate, but, in this case, was shadowy and ominous, like a whispering snake.
I left the dream not knowing whether that card was directed at him, me, or both of us.