The psychonauts’ submarine plunged into the Inmost Ocean, the depths of the collective unconscious where the whirlpool roared. A wound throbbed at the bottom of it, through which meaning bled out of reality, leaving the world stunned under a pall of grayness.
“There’s something,” one of them shouted, as the sub spiraled down toward the abyss. “Don’t be silly, there can’t be anything beyond reality,” another responded.
“Wake up!” Dr. Ferguson’s voice broke in, saving them just as they were approaching the point of no return. Their vision disappeared from the screen as they awoke.
They called it the Hermit Planet, though no one existed who spoke its native tongue.
Lured by the promises of eternal life found in its electromagnetic field, travelers came to it from all over, meandering through its statue-rimmed roads, hunting the promised wondrous resin.
When they found it, they drank of it exclusively for three thousand days, waiting for the miracle.
Thus did vitality slowly dim in their stiffening limbs; thus did their minds drown in syrup, till life was evened out in their stilled nature, and fear merged with bliss, and flesh with bone and earth. Pure, unobstructed presence.
Larry secured the chain to his chemsuit. “I’m going in,” he mumbled, stepping into the creamy gray fog.
Everything fell away, washed out of existence. “Can you see the others?” Ron asked.
“Not yet,” Larry tried to respond, but couldn’t, because there was no difference between sound and silence. And there was no difference between light and dark, so he couldn’t see, nor between life and death, so he couldn’t exist.
And the universe was spiraling out of unbeing, and somewhere a galaxy was forming, indifferent, and then a fog bank on one of its planets, waiting to be searched.
The astounding thing about all oracular forms is that they reflect the real world in the same way a recording of a scene does. This reading is from five or six months back, and it was partially confirmed a couple of weeks later, but the final feedback came only very recently.
I friend of ours was dating a new man. She’d been out of the dating scene for a while due to focusing on other things in her life. But she noticed that the guy was acting weird, as if he was looking for any excuse to cause a fight that would end the (still budding) relationship. We asked the cards and this is what happened:
Relationship reading with the tarot (Tarocchi di Layla, by Elisa Scerrato)
The cards of the cut are the Fool and Justice. Justice usually represents a solid union, not one that has just started and where the partners don’t even live together. The instability caused by the fool was already an alarm bell.
Then we have a full scene playing out: the Tower breaks up the relationship between her (Empress) and him (Emperor), but there is an obscure (Moon) influence next to him. Another woman (Popess / High Priestess). This is not even a new girl he met. The Popess has the World card next to her, showing a solid family, and the Hanged Men indicates being bound to someone, a serious commitment. I told our friends that I didn’t think the relationship had much of a future, and that she should be careful that there wasn’t any other woman around the dude.
A couple of weeks later he left her abruptly via text message. A couple of days ago, we met with our friend and she confirmed the guy was married all along, although he has an on again, off again relationship with his wife and, due to his cultural background, he doesn’t see it as strange to date multiple women, even without them knowing.
Notice how the readings flows from one card to the next in true cinematic fanshion. This ability of divination to act as a mirror is partly why I don’t believe in asking the cards for advice. This would be like asking a map for advice on where to go. The map gives you a larger picture, but the advice doesn’t come from the map: it comes from checking your plans against the available options.
Moderately Quick Silver 