Dreams: Was Grant Morrison Trying To Kill Me, Or…

Grant Morrison, comic book writer


I don’t know what visuals preceded the moment I looked up and saw Grant Morrison hovering over me. They were irrelevant compared to the 20 second experience I was about to embark on and it went a little something like this…

A few weeks ago, my buddy Chen, my personal comic book aficionado, sent me a video on  Youtube of Kevin Smith’s “Fat Man on Batman Podcast” with very special guest, Grant Morrison. I’ve been a huge fan since reading the Invisibles vol.1 and dug his approach to writing and symbol magick. So when Chen and I were discussing epic Batman comics, the name Grant Morrison came into play. I listened to the 4 hour (2 part) podcast like a student taking notes for a final exam that would determine whether or not he graduated (yes…I’ve been in this situation) and walked away feeling more inspired than I’ve ever been to write my magnum opus.

One tale he told Fatman Kevin, was that once, he and a friend had watched a documentary on enlightenment and Buddhism in Nepal and seen monks walk up 360 steps in one single breath which apparently is the key to enlightenment. He and his pal got into shape, went out there and nailed it! Later on that night, Morrison apparently had a mystical experience that was so surreal he was never able to achieve it again, despite trying every known psychotropic drug there is to get back to that mystic place. I let out a loud “WOOOOOOOW!” not caring how quiet it was in the office that day. I couldn’t contain myself.

About 2-3 weeks later, I had a dream. In that dream Grant Morrison was kneeling over me (seen in my POV as if I was supine on the ground) with his hands together like an oxygen mask, leaving a tiny triangular space in the center of his hand.

“Shhh…relax…take a deep breath…” he said as his hands lowered down over my nose and mouth. Grant Morrison told me to take a deep breath as he began counting really slow in a zen tone, “One…two…three…” He was counting so very slowly and I was having a hard time holding my breath…but he wouldn’t take his hands off of my face.

(My wife later on pointed out that perhaps I was supposed to breathe through the triangle)

When I looked up to make eye contact, I noticed it wasn’t Grant Morrison’s eyes anymore that I was looking into, but…



Once I realized who it was, I sat up in my bed, gasping for air. The image of Morrison’s hands with the tiny triangular space in the middle, was burnt into my brain. Could it just be residual memories buried in my subconscious of that interview or was it my own little mystic experience? Did I somehow manage to channel Grant’s astral projection into my dreams? I can only wonder.

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