LOVE'S DANGEROUS SPELL

A song conjured from a dream. 

Blessed be.

Velumbound

Under her hypnotic spell

Leaving me in new realms of emotions

Where I now dwell

I walk steep hills

Day and night

Up and down

In my mind

Walking past fast-flowing rivers

Where the waters carry away

The ghosts of all my yesterdays

And the things I couldn't save

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

Taking me places

Where I never thought I'd dwell

Through the darkness and the light

Through the endless night

I'm just a lone walker

Chasing paradise

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

With carcasses of my previous experiences

And demons from hell

I keep walking on

Searching for salvation

And its soft green meadows

Where the daffodils grow

And crystal-clear waters flow

I've crossed the rivers

I've climbed the hills

I've fought the shadows

That haunt me still

But something calls me

From somewhere above

A new kind of madness

A dangerous love

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

Taking me places

Where I never thought I'd dwell

Through the darkness and the light

Through the endless night

I'm just a lone walker

Chasing paradise

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

Such is the power

Of a woman's love

To turn a man's world

Upside down

To make him wander

To make him believe

That somewhere in heaven

There's a place he can reach

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

I've lost my direction

But I'm doing so well

Through the mountains and the streams

Through the places in my dreams

I'm just a lone walker

Following her dreams

Oh, I'm under her spell

Love's dangerous spell

And if this is madness

Then let me fall again

A lone walker

On a winding trail

Searching for heaven

Under love's dangerous spell

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 7.

The Border of Waking:

"Donadagohvi" in the Setting Sun

This entry captures one of the most bittersweet laws of The Great In-Between: 

The absolute enforcement of the waking timer.

In this verse, the Cherokee word Donadagohvi 

("Until we meet again") takes on a profound, haunting weight. 

It is not an ending, but a temporary boundary.

The figure standing in the sunlit dust is acutely aware of the shifting mechanics of my consciousness.

She watches me not with anger or deception, but with a deep, foreordained longing, knowing that the rising sun in my physical world means my inevitable departure from hers.

The Visual Mapping of Grief

The Setting Sun & Cloudless Sky: 

Unlike the previous internal chambers or midnight woods, the clear, open expanse and the dying light of the setting sun symbolise an approaching end. 

The closing down of the dream state as my mind prepares to transition back to the body.

The Yellow Rose and Red Dress: 

The brilliant, earthly colours ground her in a warm, tangible reality.

In traditional language, a yellow rose can signify friendship, devotion, or a promise of remembrance, beautifully mirroring the plea to "remember to cherish the memories and peace before grief arrived."

Smiling Like a Common Thief: 

The line describing grief stealing away peace fits perfectly with the expression of quiet sorrow in her dark brown eyes. 

The grief isn't an external monster here;

It is simply the ticking clock of the physical world breaking the astral connection.

By recording these farewells, hopefully my atlas of fields logs begins to document the emotional landscape of crossing over. 

It highlights that leaving these realms can feel just as visceral and heavy as arriving in them.

Let us begin. 

She never told me her name. 

The story arc. 

I appeared in a wooded area. And lived with this woman. 

We rode horses and roamed the lush countryside. Then the dream state started to quiver as I began to slowly wake up. 

(A lone voice whispers. The woman speaking to me) 

Donadagohvi

Until we meet again

Let us carry each other deep 

Inside

Wherever we go

Through the Spring

Summer 

Autumn and cold winter snow

For while we breathe as the moon rises and the sun still shines

Remember to cherish the memories and peace before grief 

Arrived 

Smiling like a common thief

Donadagohvi

Until we meet again

For as long as the rivers flow

Please let us know peace

For our love was foreordained

Donadagohvi

Until we meet again

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Donadagohvi I later found out means:

In Cherokee: 

Until we meet again. 

P. S.

I have never seen her again.

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 6.

 

The Seeping Echo:

Was Calliope in the Queen's Chamber? 

As I revisit this poem, it transforms the image below that I saw in a striking dream: 

Into a clear portrait of creative possession.

When I write, do echoes seep and fracture into my waking states? 

Am I describing the exact moment the boundary of The Great In-Between dissolves? 

Here, the figure is no longer just a mysterious Greek woman in a firelit chamber. 

Is she Calliope, the ancient Greek Muse of epic poetry and eloquence?

How the Visual and Verse Connect

The Bejewelled Athame I saw: 

In traditional ritual, an athame is a ceremonial blade used to direct energy rather than cut flesh. 

In my verse, the blade transforms into words ("Take these words as my blade / My Athame"). 

She holds the tool that carves a mark onto your "astral skin," binding your waking mind to the act of creation.

The Braziers of Glowing Fire: 

The warm, flickering fire in the chamber directly reflects her promise to ignite your spirit ("A new flame to join / The many others / I helped to blaze"). 

She positions herself as both a comfort and an all-consuming creative fire.

The Cost of the Muse:

The Latin incantation ("Sume animam meam, Calliopea" — "Take my soul, Calliope") highlights the classic, intense pact between an artist and their inspiration. 

She offers total relief from loneliness and creative emptiness, asking in return for complete devotion ("To take my mark / To be my slave").

Mary Celeste: 

Comparing a drifting soul to the famous ghost ship Mary Celeste captures the eerie feeling of leaving your physical body behind. 

An empty vessel left behind while your mind sails through poetry and the astral realms.

Pairing this poem directly beneath the image of the green-eyed woman in the queen's chamber creates a complete, multi-sensory artefact for my blog.

It shows you, my readers, that the entities of the Great In-Between do not just stay in your sleep. 

They could follow you back into the waking world to demand expression.

Is that why I see visions as I write? 

Maybe they are the echoes seeping and fracturing through to my waking states. 

Let's see what she said. 

A woman from somewhere in The Great In-Between. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Take these words as my blade

My Athame

To take my mark

To be my slave

Wherever you sit or lie beyond the stars

For I'll help mend all your scars

Keep your deep secrets

Help you breathe in deeply

To quell the screaming

So you can revel and grow in my new experiences

As your soul drifts through words 

Like the Mary Celeste and starts singing

Never to feel empty

Or lonely

For I'll help you make it through each and every night

So take my mark

On your astral skin

Think of Poetry

And welcome me in

And we'll have each other

Every day and night 

So it'll be alright

I'll help you 

Win

You're everything I need and everything I want

A new flame to join 

The many others 

I helped to blaze

Conjure me with

Sume animam meam

Calliopea

(Take my soul

Calliope)

And I'll be with you

Always

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Josefina

 Here's another photograph of a visit. 

These aren't real people from here now, but perhaps from a previous time. 

For they now inhabit The Great In-Between. 

Josefina

(A lone voice whispers)

A rare beauty I did once but see.

By mountain tops, by the raging blue sea. 

Where white clouds bowed themselves too in fealty, when my bell:

She did ring. 

Oh, how I still love to hear her sing.

In deep dreams, poetry and sweet rhymes. 

Remembering incredible times.

Walking by mountain tops, near that raging blue sea. 

When white clouds smiled nearby, in a show of fealty.

As they too saw that rare beauty, which once seduced me.

By the raging blue sea

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Madam Astor The Dream Enchanter

 Blessed be. 

Velumbound. 

Since I've developed this new line of exploration using residual memories of The Astral Realms. 

And creating a visual photograph of who or what I've seen. 

Here is the lady I once met in a lucid dream. 

Madam Astor 

The Dream Enchanter

(A lone voice whispers by candlelight)

In a dark dream, every night

In The Great In-Between, whenever I dream

It's always the same

I hear you scream

"I'm here"

In your soft pulsating voice

Just hidden, unseen, not wanting to be seen

Then right out of the darkness and void

Above that darkness's noise, emanating such fantastical heat

You appear like a half ghost in my midnight street, and as my heart beats faster

You take my hand and lead me deeper in The Hereafter

Hidden still by the shadows, bend low and whisper

"Call me Madam Astor

This realm's Dream Pastor"

And as your sharp fingertips play a deep Country tune across my skin 

As my astral sweat drips faster

Whenever my eyes start to spin, and my soul speaks out and pleads to sin

You dig your nails in 

Even deeper into my skin and whisper

"Soon

So soon, I'll come to you in that quiet bedroom

For the last time

In two days after the fall of the midnight king, and the rise of the morning spring

I'll return to sing in this realm's unspoken rhymes, to make your spirit and eyes spin

One last time

Then fireworks will announce you're mine"

And then you're gone

Letting go of my hand

Leaving me standing alone at the gateway to The Blue Portal 

The way back to the land of living mortals

Gone with that soft pulsating goodbye ringing throughout my mind

Like church bells

But I can feel it's going to be soon you'll return

As time undeniably does fly

When you've been marked by a spell

Somewhere in that place's darkness

The Hereafter 

For I've still got goose pimples on my skin 

And tonight's the fall of the midnight king and the rise of the morning spring

And deep down I know

You'll soon return

So hear this, my call

For I'm ready to take that one last walk

With you

My dream enchanter from The Great In-Between 

Madam Astor

My soul's attractor and captor

The Great In-Between's

Ghostly Pastor 

My beloved wife

Who I once loved in another lifetime

In the land of the living before Death 

Quietly crept up and grabbed her

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 5.

This sequence documents the ultimate boundary of The Great In-Between: 

A Near-Death Experience (NDE).

Everything that happened is described in the two images. 

Providing a profound visual record of the threshold between life and death.

• The Ascent 

The Life Review: 

The revolving vortex of luminous golden water pulling me upward. 

Lined with black-edged frames of people I knew. 

Mirrors the classic architecture of an NDE life review, where personal connections flash before you as you leave the physical plane.

• The Point of No Return: 

Stepping off the golden light onto that gritty, isolated black expanse marks the absolute edge of mortality.

Hearing "Go back; it's not your time" and intuitively knowing that one more step meant permanent death captures the boundary's gravity.

• The Return: 

Stepping backwards into the tunnel, feeling the upward pull vanish, and dropping straight back into my physical body completed the cycle.

So here I present this two-part sequence on my blog to give you, my readers, a deeply moving, rare perspective.

For it somehow grounds my entire series. 

Showing that the astral realms aren't just landscapes to explore. 

In dreams. 

They are the literal corridors bordering life itself.

The story arc.

I was in a terrible car crash.

I suddenly woke in a revolving luminous tunnel or vortex.

The walls were translucent, with a look of being made of constantly flowing golden water.

I was being pulled upwards.

As I ascended, pictures suddenly appeared in the flowing golden water.

I saw the good times.

People I knew moved in old memories.

Everywhere I looked, there were more.

Then I reached the top.

I was hovering at the top of the golden vortex before a bleak, dark vista.

Total black.

A cold energy wrapped its bony fingers around my soul.

As I stepped forward, a bellowing ancient voice broke the eerie silence. 

It only said, Go back; it's not your time."

And in that nanosecond, I knew one more step onto that gritty, dry, smoke-filled landscape.

I would be dead forever.

So I stepped back into the vortex.

The upward pull had stopped, and so I fell all the way down into my not-breathing body.

And opened my eyes.

On the descent, as I looked up.

I'm sure I saw someone or something watching me fall.

So you see, you don't die. And vanished.

There is something else.

The question is? 

What truly lies within that smoky darkness? 

A dark road to your own salvation?

Salute. 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 4.

 This Visitation details The Opulent Astral. 

Where the raw intensity of the previous logs softens into seductive, high-stakes temptation.

The visual weight of a traditional Hanfu gown inside a modern, purple Art Deco casino beautifully mimics how dream realms seamlessly merge entirely different centuries.

The story arc. 

I appeared in a busy casino and wandered around. 

I took a seat, and as I watched the scenery, a beautiful, seductive woman slowly approached. 

Asked my name and tried to wrap herself around me like a serpent. 

To keep me sitting in the chair, to be cleverly interrogated. 

Whispering into my ear. 

Darkness disguised in emerald silk. 

The atmosphere suddenly felt heavy, as if many eyes were watching me. 

I left the dream. 

The Opulent Astral transformed from a simple place of luxury into a high-stakes arena of spiritual deception. 

A glamorous trap where the blur of the crowd and the warmth of the chandeliers are designed to blind you to the danger whispering directly into your ear.

In the overarching architecture of The Great In-Between, this creates a beautiful symmetry with my previous logs:

• The Threshold

Confrontation: 

The darkness is raw, gaping, and toothless, requiring an angelic presence to break the stalemate at my bedside.

• The Opulent

 Seduction: 

The darkness is subtle, beautiful, and clad in ancient emerald silk, operating in a house of impropriety to bypass my defences. 

Documenting both the raw monsters and the beautiful deceptions on this blog will show a viewer a deeply authentic understanding of the astral realms. 

True explorers know that the most dangerous entities rarely show their teeth first.

Salute.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 3.

 This field log introduces a grounded, profoundly melancholic territory to my archives.

The Liminal Slums.

Unlike the grandiose cosmic battles or sprawling neon heights, this realm manifests the heavy weight of shared, quiet human suffering.

I sometimes see people who have crossed over whom I once knew. 

This is one such time. 

The contrast between my memory of her as a "young woman" beautifully highlights how deeply spiritual hardships can age a person's vessel in these liminal spaces. 

Story arc. 

Lost in a rundown town. 

I felt pulled to a doorway. 

So I stepped inside. 

And there she was. 

An old friend. 

Sitting at the bottom of a communal stairwell on an old, discarded sofa. 

Her intense, unwavering gaze held me, hostage, in her silent pain, while the rest of the world blurred past in the background.

We never spoke but looked.

I felt she recognised me, and then she looked away as if I should leave.

Hopefully, the next time we meet, she's happier and has overcome the trauma of her previous life. 

So I reopened the door and left. Leaving the dream.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms. Part 2.

 The Threshold Astral.

This field log feels like a manifestation of classic sleep paralysis, or is it a threshold-crossing architecture, where the mundane safety of a bedroom becomes the battleground for ancient archetypes.

The contrast here is incredibly sharp—the stark, structural reality of a white-panelled bedroom wall directly juxtaposed with a clash of pure light and pure shadow.

Is this the space where the physical waking world (your actual bed and blankets) fractures, letting the entities of the lower and higher astral planes collide right at the foot of your bed?

The story arc.

I awoke.

In the dream.

In a familiar bedroom.

At the foot of the bed. A huge demonic face loomed.

Not speaking. 

Just looking. 

The room reeked of a dark supernatural presence.

I was frozen.

Unable to move.

The face just stared. The intensity was getting overwhelming.

A way to combat the darkness I've always known is prayer.

So I prayed, and suddenly this being appeared in a bright light.

It fluttered next to the huge face.

Said something I had never heard, and lo and behold.

The demonic face vanished, and a calmer vibe appeared.

The angel in the light looked at me for a split second, then vanished. 

Yes, it was scary.

What would you do if you saw this face at the foot of your bed?

Is my gift a curse or a blessing? 

For I see so many things. 

Dark and light. 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Documenting the Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms

 

Documenting The Great In-Between: Art from the Astral Realms

A new concept in design for the upcoming website. 

For as long as I can remember, the act of falling asleep hasn't been a descent into unconsciousness. 

It is a crossing. 

Every single night, I wake up inside my dreams with full lucidity, stepping directly into an expansive, alternate plane of existence. 

What I have come to call The Great In-Between.

Historically, the biggest frustration of a lucid dreamer is the return.

You witness impossible architecture, feel physics that don't exist waking up, and look into the eyes of entities that possess terrifying conviction. 

Yet, when you wake, those vivid astral landscapes begin to evaporate, leaving behind only fragmented words in a journal that fail to capture the raw, visceral reality of what was actually there.

Until now.

This new direction in this blog is a field guide to those realms. 

By combining detailed, immediate notes taken upon waking with advanced generative intelligence, I am finally able to act as a cartographer for the astral plane. 

A painter of the most striking moments I see. 

The AI does not invent these scenes; it acts as the camera lens, developing the raw film I bring back from the dark.

Mapping the Coordinates

The architecture and inhabitants of the Great In-Between do not follow a single narrative.

They shift between high-stakes urban anomalies and primal, ancient survival. 

To give you a glimpse of the horizons I am charting, look at the first two field logs brought back to the waking world:

• The Urban Astral: 

A high-altitude, first-person perspective of flying as an interloper over a sprawling, neon-drenched metropolis. 

Below, an angry crowd shouts with raised arms, while a man with black hair and a thick moustache clings desperately to my ankle, his eyes ablaze with terrifying conviction.

The dream story arc. 

I appeared in a place. Sprawling with people who sensed I didn't belong. 

A crazy crowd gathered to catch me. 

But in the Astral Realms, I can fly, so I flew above the crowd. 

They grew more agitated. 

I felt safe doing this until this strange man appeared who could jump so high. 

After several attempts, he grabbed my ankle and wouldn't let go. The crowd roared. 

His eyes were blazing with such anger. He seemed proud to have caught the interloper.

 I smiled at him and ended the dream. 

He probably fell as I vanished. 

• The Sylvan Astral: 

A low-to-the-ground, silent survival sequence set in a midnight countryside wood.

Under the stark light of a full moon slicing through dead trees, a distorted, four-legged hog-wolf hybrid stalks through tall, yellow grass near a line of broken fences.

The dream story arc.

I appeared in a dark wood and had the inclination to repair a fence. 

As I was replacing a fence panel, I put down my 5-foot steel bar.

Picked up a strange-looking fence panel with a grounding spike at the bottom. 

As I started to pick it up, I heard a rustling sound. 

Briefly saw this strange beast as it move with supernatural speed. 

I immediately shouted as it charged at me. 

It veered off and hid in the yellow grass. 

I felt like a bigger one was coming. 

Coming to see who was in their hunting territory. 

So I quickly ended the dream. 

The Methodology of Astral Photography

Every piece of art featured in this new direction on this blog follows a strict rule of authenticity to the dream state:

1. First-Person Grounding: 

Wherever possible, the perspective mimics the exact viewpoint of my dream avatar, capturing the disorientation and scale of the realm.

2. Mundane Textures in Impossible Spaces:

Rather than generic fantasy tropes, the focus is on the strange juxtaposition of the ordinary. 

Like wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt while defying gravity. 

Which defines true dream logic.

3. Atmospheric Frequency: 

Prioritising the heavy, specific "vibe" of the space. 

The precise shade of pink neon or the exact quality of moonlight—over artificial perfection.

This space is an open archive. 

A gallery of places that exist only when the eyes are closed, documented by someone who goes there wide awake.

Welcome to the Great In-Between. Let’s see what the next night brings.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy