OBLH's DREAM
He dreamed of hymns older than time.
A voice—not his own—rose from the void, speaking in fire and starlight:
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"O Lord, deliver me from hell's great fear and gloom!
Loose Thou my spirit from the larvae of the tomb!
I seek them in their dread abodes without affright;
On them will I impose my will—the Law of Light."​
The chant echoed through caverns of shadow and flame. A sunless horizon stretched beneath him; stars hung like sparks frozen in crystal.
I bid the night conceive the glittering hemisphere!
"Arise, O sun! Arise, O moon, shine white and clear!
I seek them in their dread abodes without affright;
On them will I impose my will—the Law of Light."​
Shapes coiled in the abyss below—terrible, beautiful. The dreamer trembled, yet his voice did not falter.
Their faces and their shapes are terrible and strange.
"These devils, by my might, to angels I will change.
These nameless horrors I address without affright;
On them will I impose my will—the Law of Light."​
The hymn, once whispered, became a roar:
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"These are the phantoms pale of mine astonished view,
Yet none but I their blasted beauty can renew;
For to the abyss of hell I plunge without affright;
On them will I impose my will—the Law of Light."​
The dream shifted. The words became ink on ancient parchment, and he read:
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“It is wise and best to forget the achievements and successes of yesterday so one can face today with the same humility as always. Failure to do so is a dangerous trap, leading to pride over past victories—and pride to laziness. The Magician is the bridge between Heaven and Earth, the vessel of pure Will. He who forgets himself may shape the cosmos.”
—The Magician, translated from Éliphas Lévi
Then came a book, bound in light. Its pages fluttered without wind:
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“The Father’s House of Many Mansions births infinite creation from His inexpressible Love, linking every order of being with the Infinite Way.”
—The Keys of Enoch
The dream deepened. Now he stood on a mountain of glass, face-to-face with eternity:
“In the Tenth Heaven, Aravoth, I beheld the Face of the Lord: like iron in the furnace, burning and emitting sparks. And who am I to tell of His ineffable being, or the glory of His throne, not made with hands, nor of the cherubim and seraphim who sang without ceasing? Yet the Lord said unto me: ‘Fear not, Enoch. Arise and stand before My face into eternity.’
—The Book of Enoch
Michael the archangel lifted him, stripping away the garments of mortality, clothing him in robes of radiant fire. Pravuil, scribe of Heaven, placed a reed in his hand and summoned books older than creation. One by one, their seals opened, revealing mysteries of the living and the dead, of time and the throne of the Almighty.
And then, in the silence between worlds, he was led to the Valley of Souls. The voice of Uriel, keeper of mysteries, whispered:
“These hollows hold the spirits of the righteous, awaiting resurrection. These dark pits, the spirits of the wicked. And these... are for those yet unborn, whose time has not come. All are numbered. All are known.”
—Enoch, Chapter 22​
The dreamer wept—not from fear, but from the unbearable weight of knowledge. He saw the architecture of eternity: corridors of stars, wheels of fire, rivers of light and shadow twined together like breath.
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And at the edge of the vision, he glimpsed her—a woman crowned with a throne, wrapped in the moon’s silver veil. Isis, his destiny, awaited him.
He awoke with her name in his mind, and with it, a single word: QBLH.
