The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Nine

At the appointed time, the four neopagans waited, with other neopagan family and friends, for signs from, again, to use the Greek names that they were all accustomed to using, Zeus, Poseidon, Gaea, and Hades.

After a mere ten minutes of waiting, Shelly and those with her saw a face form in the clouds, one with a beard.

“Zeus,” she called out to the sky. “May I call you Zeus?”

“If you wish, mortal,” the sky-father said in a booming voice. “Your Earth names for us are all acceptable.”

“Thank you,” she said. “What is your will, Zeus? Why are all of these killings happening? We believers suspect your motives, but we want to be sure.”

“We gods have been dormant for millennia,” he said. “Not any longer, though. I tire of the smoke that blackens my skies, and of the acid rain.” His voice was heard in the minds’ ears, as it were, of all the others watching, waiting, and listening for signs in all four mutually faraway places, and anywhere else in the world where people had ears to hear. Cellphones weren’t even needed: the gods made all voices, human and divine, heard as if everyone was in the same room.

Around that time, Michelle saw a face forming in the water near her feet as they, dangling from the pier, touched the surface.

“I have endured the senseless killing of my children—fish, whales, coral reefs, sharks, and all others,” Poseidon said. “I’ll endure the pollution and scathing of my babies no longer.”

Gary was watching the wind blow on the grass of the golf course his manager brother had allowed him to come in. At one point, the wind shaped the grass into a woman’s sad face. His eyes widened as he saw the ‘mouth’ begin to move.

“I have been as patient as I could while trees, grass, bushes, and animals—all my children—have been butchered,” she said in sobs. Gary saw a dew-like tear drop from grassy shadows shaped into her right eye. “I have been prepared to forgive man’s brutality and disrespect. I cannot afford to keep waiting for man to show remorse. Either I kill him, or he kills everything.”

If only Cam were here to see and hear this, Gary thought with a frown on his face. He’d have all the proof he needs; but he never listens to me or opens his mind to any of this! How am I going to save him from the gods’ coming wrath?

Nina was sitting by the opening to the mine, having put away her phone, since she could naturally hear what was being said among the others, who also heard all the voices of the gods and human participants, loud voices from far off, to be heard as if whispered right by their ears, so everyone could participate in this conversation among such far-away places.

Just when Gaea had finished speaking from the grass on the golf course, Nina was startled by the loud, bass voice coming from the hole: “Man is making the Earth his hell, his grave. We will accelerate the process.”

“But, what of us, we who have always honoured you?” Michelle asked when Hades had finished speaking. “Surely you don’t plan to kill the good with the wicked.”

“No,” Gaea said. “You will be spared. But be careful. Take cover as we bring disaster to the sinful. Make sure you distance yourselves from them.”

“Warn the evil, too,” said Zeus. “None of them will listen to you, but at least give them fair warning.”

“They will scoff at you, and mock you,” Poseidon said. “But do what is just.”

“Their scoffing will come back on them…hard,” Hades said.

“But how can we be sure that we will be safe?” Nina asked. “And how can we save innocent children?”

“We will provide…huge wooden boxes…for you to be protected in, giant versions of the chest given to Deucalion and Pyrrha,” Gaea said. “Put as many children in them as you can fit, as well as yourselves, your families, and your friends.”

“Warn the world,” Zeus repeated. “So those with ears, who listen, will come to your boxes and be saved.”

“Yes, Zeus,” Michelle said. “We will do your bidding, and we will look for your boxes.”

The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Eight

“I’m telling you,” Michelle typed in a message shared with three other neopagans in a private conversation on Facebook. “There are people who have come forward and said they saw faces in the sky, in the ocean, on the grass in the golf course, and in the underground mine.”

“I’ve heard a couple of claims like that, too,” said Gary to the others. “The claims could be true—we don’t know.”

“What’s interesting, regardless of whether these face stories are true or not, is that all the people killed were rich people publicly known for not caring about the environment at all,” Shelly said. “Not that these connections, of course, were ever acknowledged in the mainstream media, who are on the payroll of the rich. To know the connections, you have to do additional research, as I did.”

“That’s right,” said Nina. “I did a little of that independent research, too. The victims made no secret about their contempt for the poor and for our Mother Earth. Any staff in the areas where these natural disasters occurred survived. At worst, they got a little hurt and a big scare, like my miner husband. Then there are the shared dreams we have all had. All the evidence suggests intervention from the gods to save our planet.”

“So, what should we do?” Gary asked.

“Gary, you live close to that golf course your brother manages,” Michelle said. “How about you go there and wait for signs from Gaea? I’m near the California Yacht Club; I’ll go sit by the pier, watch the water, and wait for a sign from Poseidon. Nina, since you live near the mine in Texas, can you go over there, as close as they’ll allow you, and wait for signs from Hades?”

“My husband’s a miner, as I said before,” Nina said. “Steve was badly hurt and got one hell of a scare from the experience, but thank the gods he’s going to be all right. He refuses to believe the gods had anything to do with what happened, but he can get me inside the property with a key he once stole from Lipton’s office. Now that he is dead, Lipton won’t object to the petty larceny. I can get right up to the holes and listen for Hades’ words.”

“Good,” Shelly said. “I can drive up near the Wells mansion in Vermont. I’ll park there, look up at the sky, and wait for signs from Zeus.”

“We can also message each other by phone to keep the conversation a four-way one, with each god, too…we hope,” Michelle said.

“Great,” Gary said. “Let’s all do this, well, at 10:00 PM my time. You can all work out the time zones in your areas. You know mine: Gary, from Gary, Indiana—so easy to remember.”

The other three responded with “Yeah, lol.”

And before I go on the green in the golf course, I’ll make another attempt to get my brother to listen to me about the coming danger, Gary thought. The rest of our family are opening their minds to this. Please, gods, help me to get him and his wife to open their minds!

Similarly, Michelle prayed, Please, gods, help my mother to see my gods as real as she does her Jesus.

And Nina prayed, O gods, help Steve to understand that he didn’t hallucinate Hades’ voice!

Analysis of ‘Hour of the Wolf’

Hour of the Wolf (Vargtimmen–literally, “Wolf Hour”) is a 1968 psychological horror film written and directed by Ingmar Bergman. It stars Max von Sydow and Liv Ullmann, with Gertrud Fridh, Georg Rydeberg, Erland Josephson, Naima Wifstrand, Ulf Johanson, Gudrun Brost, and Ingrid Thulin.

At first, Bergman had come up with much of the story as part of a screenplay, The Cannibals, which wasn’t produced, but given up on so he could make Persona in 1966. His inspiration for Hour of the Wolf came from Mozart‘s opera, The Magic Flute (a segment of which is shown in a puppet play in one scene of Bergman’s film), The Golden Pot, a novella by ETA Hoffmann (which includes a love interest named Veronika, and the protagonist of Hoffman’s novella finds himself falling in love with her as well as with another woman–just as the protagonist of Bergman’s film is torn between his wife and an old paramour named Veronica), and some of Bergman’s own nightmares. There are also allusions to vampire and werewolf legend in Hour of the Wolf.

That Bergman incorporated some of his own nightmares into the film is significant, since it is disturbingly autobiographical, with von Sydow’s and Ullmann’s roles (a married couple in the film) corresponding to Bergman and Ullmann in real life; she not only frequently collaborated with him, but also had a relationship with him, resulting in a daughter, Linn Ullmann.

Hour of the Wolf was negatively received by the critics in Sweden upon release, but in time it was received far more positively. According to a 2012 directors’ poll by the British Film Institute, it was ranked one of the 50 greatest films of all time. David Lynch called Hour of the Wolf one of the five films that inspired him the most, and he called it a masterpiece. On Rotten Tomatoes, 92% of critics gave it a positive review. Ullmann was awarded Best Actress at the 1968 National Board of Review Awards, and the 1968 National Society of Film Critics Awards, for her role in the film, and Bergman won Best Director for the latter awards, too.

Here is a link to quotes from the film in English translation, and here is a link to the complete movie, with English subtitles.

The film is called “Hour of the Wolf” because, as painter Johan Borg (von Sydow) tells his pregnant wife, Alma (Ullmann), that hour is when most births and deaths occur. This is an interesting idea, given how one thing incorporated into the film is legends about the werewolf, which is ‘born,’ if you will, through its transformation from a man, and then it causes death to its human prey. Also, just two months after the premiere of The Magic Flute, after its ‘birth,’ its creator, Mozart, died in 1791. Not too long after Johan disappears, after which I assume Alma’s narration couldn’t have come much later, she’ll give birth to their baby, which will be in a month. The hour of the wolf is when nightmares come, deep into the darkness of the night, when Johan’s inability to sleep is at its worst. He associates his fear with his guilt, the source of which I’ll go into later.

While not necessarily a literal hour, the Vargtimmen (for my purposes here) represents a short space in time between death and life, which can also be represented by the ouroboros, a cyclical symbol of eternity in which the bitten tail can be seen as death, and the biting head seen as birth.

As I indicated above, Johan has been suffering from increasing insomnia. He’s had frightening visions, which he’s sketched and shown to Alma. The people of these sketched visions he has named the Birdman (which was partly influenced by Papageno from The Magic Flute, and he is Lindhorst [Rydenberg] in the film), the Insects, the Meat-Eaters, the Schoolmaster, and the Lady With a Hat, among others.

Because people agitate and upset Johan so much, he and Alma have come to the island of Baltrum, one of the Frisian Islands, where he hopes to find peace and quiet. He likes how quiet Alma is, and so he enjoys his dyadic relationship with her (more on the significance of that later). The sight of footprints on the island upsets him, though, and indeed, he’ll have to deal with others on Baltrum.

The people on the island, corresponding to those of his sketches, he considers to be demons, or cannibals. Since he is slowly losing his mind, they more accurately represent projections of internal objects, people from his past, his own inner demons. Johan can escape from other people, but not from himself.

During the opening credits, we can hear the film crew as they’re talking and working to get ready to film a scene. This gives off a Brechtian alienation effect, reminding us that we’re watching a movie and removing the illusion of the story ‘really happening.’ Just as we’re kept consciously aware that we’re watching a movie, so are we kept conscious of the fact that Johan is an artist, and later, during the puppet show Lindhorst has the guests at the party watch (the Magic Flute scene), we are fully conscious of its spectacle as a puppet show, a scene that can be understood as a microcosm of the entire movie (more on that below).

Now, opposing the idea of Brecht’s distancing effect, of alienating us from identifying with the characters in the scene, is how Alma tells Johan that, having been married to him and living with him for so long, she feels that the two of them are beginning to resemble each other. She empathizes with him thoroughly, and if I am right to think that Johan’s ‘demons’ are projections of parts of himself, then such empathizing and identifying with him makes it possible for anti-Brecht Alma to see his projected demons as clearly as he does.

Her name is generally thought to mean ‘kind,’ ‘fostering,’ or ‘nourishing,’ which reflects her gentle, empathetic, and supportive attitude to Johan as he is going through his dark night of the soul. In some of the Romance languages, Alma can also mean ‘spirit’ or ‘soul,’ making her, in her closeness and resemblance to Johan, his Jungian anima. Alma can yet again be heard as a pun on alba, or ‘dawn,’ ‘white,’ to contrast with Johan’s dark night, or his ‘hour of the wolf,’ his blackest moments of madness and despair. After his disappearance and presumed death, she lives on to bear his child and tell his story; she who identifies with him is the dawn and white light after his blackest moment.

She hopes to grow old enough with him that they will think each other’s thoughts, so much does she love him and empathize with him. If I’m right that his ‘demons,’ such as the Lady With a Hat, are really his mental projections, then Alma is already sharing Johan’s thoughts when she sees the Lady With a Hat the very day after she’s talked with him about beginning to resemble him and think like him. In fact, the Lady With a Hat will urge Alma to know even more of his thoughts by telling her of the diary he has hidden under his bed.

When she reads the diary, she begins to learn more of his deepest, darkest secrets, including not only the strangers, real or imagined, but also real people like his old paramour, Veronica Vogler (Thulin), whom he’ll see again on the island, her tempting him to more adultery.

In his diary, Johan has written of meeting Baron von Merkens (Josephson), who lives in a nearby castle and invites the painter and his wife to a dinner party there. The baron also owns the island, so on one level, we can see here the relationship between the wealthy and the worker, for it is at this party that Johan will feel a sense of oppression from his host and the other guests, his ‘demons.’ The baron’s reason for inviting Johan and Alma is that he and his wife, Corinne (Fridh), are among Johan’s fondest admirers.

Alma continues reading the diary and comes upon an entry in which Johan says he’s encountered Veronica by the rocky beach. She exposes a breast to him and tells him about a letter she’s received, an ominous one that seems to have been sent to her from his ‘demons.’ He kisses her on the cheek. This juxtaposition of the lovers’ meeting with the threatening letter reinforces the sense that his illness, insomnia, and fears all stem from his guilty past. Eros, the life and sex instinct, is here juxtaposed with Thanatos, the death drive, that moment of birth and death that is the hour of the wolf.

Alma reads more, and comes to an entry about Johan being accosted and chased by Heerbrand (Johanson), who finds Johan to be strenuously shuffling away and avoiding him. Heerbrand calls himself a “psychiatric curator” (implying a combination of a therapist and one potentially interested in Johan’s paintings), one who would “finger people’s souls and turn their insides out.” Since Johan has some dark shadows inside himself that he’d rather not bring to light, Heerbrand is the last man he’d want to be talking to. Since Johan can feel Heerbrand trying to pry into his mind, he slaps the man hard, knocking him to the ground, and tells the loquacious man to shut up. This violent act is a clear case of resistance. Heerbrand, still on the ground and reeling from the swat, has a nosebleed and needs to hold a handkerchief to his face. That guilt that Johan feels is far too much for him to bear, let alone disclose to the “psychiatric curator.”

Alma’s fears for her husband are growing, and she puts the diary back under the bed just before he returns home. As he’s eating, she discusses her accounting of the family finances, and her need for more money, since there are so many expenses they have. The juxtaposition of this moment with the following scene, their visiting the baron’s castle for the dinner party, clearly puts in relief the class differences between Johan and Alma, on the one hand, and the baron, his wife, and his other wealthy guests, on the other.

The baron introduces Corinne, his mother (the countess), and the other guests (who include Heerbrand and Lindhorst) to Johan and Alma. Recall the baron having told Johan that he and Corinne are admirers of his work, as is Lindhorst. The wealthy are often patrons of the arts, and I suspect that the baron, Corinne, and Lindhorst, as examples of Johan’s projected internal objects, all either are or in part represent such patrons from his past, people he doesn’t like hobnobbing with, but has to, for he depends financially on their patronage. In this tension, we can see the class aspect of Johan’s suffering.

All of these ‘demons’ also personify what Wilfred R. Bion would have called beta elements that irritate Johan. According to Bion’s theory, one normally takes raw sensory data (beta elements)–which chafe, agitate, and annoy us–and processes them (a procedure Bion called alpha function), turning them into what he called alpha elements, or experiences that can be dealt with and tolerated.

Sometimes, though, one finds that one cannot, or refuses to, process the beta elements, and thus one splits off, expels, and projects them outwards, resulting in the formation of what Bion called a beta screen, composed of unprocessed beta elements and preventing alpha function, or the transformation of the raw, irritating sensory data into meaningful experiences that lead to rational thought. This prevention leads to psychosis, which brings us back to Johan’s problem.

His ‘demons,’ rejected beta elements that are split off from him, expelled, and projected, have become what Bion called bizarre objects, which are Johan’s hallucinated projections and the cause of his growing mental illness. Alma empathically shares in the experience of these bizarre objects because she, having lived with him long enough to share his thoughts and now resembling him, has now made his delusions into a kind of folie à deux, though she doesn’t experience his horrors on the same psychotic level as he. They merely sadden her, for his sake.

At the dinner table with the baron, Corinne, and all of their loquacious guests, he tries to bear all of their noisy, endless chatter as best he can…all of those irritating beta elements. Due to the class difference between Johan and Alma on the one side (i.e., all of their expenses), and the baron, his wife, and other moneyed guests on the other (e.g., their sumptuous feast), Johan must put up with it all. It is all very oppressive for him.

One woman at the table (the countess?) says, “The summer heat makes you so thirsty,” the thirst being an example of a beta element in need of processing, of quenching, and an example of something far more easily dealt with by the wealthy than by the poor. Already we can see Johan’s agitation: his head rapidly turning left and right as he tries to respond to each guest addressing him, his wiping of sweat off of his face, his loosening of his collar, and his frown of discomfort.

One guest, the baron’s brother, Ernst, complains about the housemaid, calling her “damned awful,” and “cheap,” meaning she’s paid a small enough salary to motivate her not to be any better. We again see how class conflict is a factor in how oppressed Johan and Alma feel among this company. Ernst continues to be irritating in his incessant complaining, blaming himself for the loss of the baron’s money (which, by the standards of the wealthy, still leaves the baron rich, hence his castle and dinner party); Ernst claims he embezzled the family fortune–he is clearly neurotic, perhaps a projection of Johan’s guilt, his inability to make more money for Alma.

Adding to Johan’s tension, Corinne, sitting next to him, brings up Veronica, that he knows her. Later, he and Alma will be in Corinne’s room, where she’ll show the husband and wife a picture of his old paramour. Corinne and the others at the dinner table all eagerly agree on how beautiful and charming Veronica is; all of this talk of her will make both Johan and Alma most uncomfortable, reinforcing his guilt and her jealousy (recall her reading about Veronica in his diary).

After the dinner, the guests all go to see a little puppet show by Lindhorst, the one based on an aria from The Magic Flute. Recall that Lindhorst, the Bird Man, is the Papageno equivalent in this film, to Johan’s Tamino. The aria from the opera that the guests hear is “O, ew’ge Nacht” (“O, eternal night.”) The protagonist of the opera, Tamino, sings in despair, wondering when the blackness of night will finally end and the light return.

The puppet show is thus again a provocation for Johan, whose sleepless nights, each an hour of the wolf, are exactly of this kind of eternal blackness, causing him a despair like that of Tamino. Lindhorst is rubbing it in for Johan, knowing of his and Alma’s suffering and taking delight in aggravating it.

We can see Johan closing his eyes during the puppet show, him unable to watch it. Lindhorst watches him intently, noting Johan’s discomfort. After the show and the applause, Lindhorst gives everyone a commentary on what happens during the aria, and on its emotional meaning. By graphically describing Tamino’s despairing dread of the darkness and wish for a return of the light, Lindhorst is again rubbing it in for Johan. Lindhorst also mentions the illness Mozart had at the time of the early performances of The Magic Flute, of how fatal the illness was. Johan’s growing mental illness will prove fatal for him, too, and Lindhorst et al are egging it on.

Tamino’s asking if his love, Pamina, is still alive reminds us of how Johan must wonder if Veronica is still alive, arousing his adulterous lust, Alma’s jealousy, and his guilt. Lindhorst praises Mozart’s aria as “the highest manifestation of art,” suggesting a link between the composer’s genius and the greatness, as felt by Johan’s admirers among the ‘demon’ guests, of his paintings. The artistic link, of course, suggests in turn a link between Tamino’s love of Pamina and Johan’s continuing desire for Veronica.

In expressing his modest opinion of his own art, Johan is deflecting any comparison with Mozart and his genius…and by implication, he is also deflecting any comparison between his passion for Veronica and Tamino’s love of Pamina.

After the party, and after seeing the picture of Veronica in Corinne’s room, Johan and Alma are back home at night. “VARGTIMMEN” is shown on a black background, indicating that that time has come again for him. We see him holding lighted matches before his eye in the darkness; he stares at the flame obsessively, craving the light. She is with him, of course, always worrying about his worsening condition.

They both note how quiet it is. He wistfully remembers back on those nights when he could sleep, “deep, dreamless sleep,” he says. Bion noted that psychotics can’t dream or sleep because they don’t process beta elements as described above. The work of dreaming creates the conscious and unconscious mind, not the other way around; so when one cannot dream, one cannot differentiate between conscious and unconscious experience. His psychic state, therefore, cannot differentiate sleeping from waking, dreaming from perceiving the real world.

Bion’s ideas thus can help us understand why so much of this film is surrealist, since surrealism expresses the unconscious. Johan in his psychotic state is increasingly seeing and experiencing dreamlike images and events in his waking life. The ‘demons’ he sees are all projections of internal objects from his unconscious.

Johan speaks of “deep, dreamless sleep,” which in the past must have been a prelude to his insomnia, a prefiguring of the psychosis that was to come. It is here, at the worst hour of his sleeplessness, that the “hour of the wolf” comes, as he tells Alma, when most die and most are born, and “the nightmares come to us,” which for him are in his waking hours at night.

He then tells her of a traumatic experience he once had as a child. He was punished by his parents, who threw him in a closet and shut the door. It was quiet and dark there, just as it is now in the house with her at night. He as a child was, of course, as terrified then as he is now, for his experience of the Vargtimmen is a PTSD-like reliving of that old closet trauma.

His parents told him there was a little person living in the closet, one “who gnawed the toes off naughty children!” Such a punishment sounds symbolic of castration, Johan’s punishment for having Oedipal feelings for his mother, presumably, and an explanation of how his current fears are caused by guilt. His desire for Veronica could be a mother transference, and the ‘demon’ guests, like the little person in the closet, are on this level all representations of his parents, who are punishing him for his naughty Oedipal desires.

Certainly the baron later on, towards the climax of the film, tells Johan of his own relationship with Veronica, that she has been his mistress for several years, and that he knows that Johan has returned to his castle to find her. The baron knows of Johan’s sexual relationship with her, and naturally, he is jealous.

So if Veronica is Johan’s mother transference, and all the ‘demons’ in general represent Johan’s parents in one sense or another (i.e., judging him and tormenting him as his parents did when he was trapped in the closet), then the baron here is a father transference for Johan. In this triangle of Johan, the baron, and Veronica, we can see a relived Oedipal triangle of Johan as a child with his parents, and in this triangle we can discover the unconscious root of his guilt.

Now, I’m sure there are many reading this who are scoffing at my reliance on Freud as a basis for interpreting the symbolism of Hour of the Wolf. To be sure, Freud got a lot more wrong than he got right, but as Don Carveth explains in his YouTube video on the Oedipus complex, Freud was on to something, even if he’d limited its application to a strictly literal, sexual one. It is a universal narcissistic trauma, Carveth explains, based on a child’s painful realization that he or she must give up hogging the Oedipally-desired parent all to him- or herself, and must share Mom or Dad with each other and with many others (e.g., brothers and sisters).

That universally-held child’s wish to hog Mom or Dad all to oneself doesn’t have to be incestuous, sexual desire; it just has to be a wish to have that parent always exist as an extension of one’s narcissistic self, to be a kind of 24/7 slave to the child’s ego, always doing everything for the child and for no one else. The Oedipus complex often enough can be sexual, though, and so when one realizes one cannot have the Oedipally-desired parent, one tries to find a more socially-acceptable substitute in someone else as a transference, as Johan has done with Veronica as his illicit lover.

When we hear of young men desiring older women, calling them MILFs (a “Mom I’d Like to Fuck”), it’s obviously an Oedipal transference. When women call the men they’re attracted to “Daddy,” it’s obviously the female version of the Oedipus complex (what Jung called the Electra complex) as a more socially-acceptable transference of the desire, going away from an object of incestuous desire.

Finally, while most people today reject Freud as a ‘heap of hooey,’ back when Hour of the Wolf was made, his ideas were still much more accepted. Think, for example, of how often 20th century productions of Hamlet showed the Danish prince having a thing for his mother, Queen Gertrude. So it should be quite reasonable to give a psychoanalytic interpretation of Hour of the Wolf as being a product of its time, even if one doesn’t agree with Freud’s theories.

Back to the story. When trapped in that closet, little Johan knew that his hour had come, the hour of the wolf, the same terror that the present Johan has as he’s talking with Alma. He as a child was being punished, ultimately, for his primary narcissism, since his parents wanted to push him away from ego-love (with his mother as a mirrored extension of himself) and towards object-love, or the love of other people. Lacan would have called this shift one from the other to the Other (i.e., from a dyadic relationship with one other, as an extension of the narcissistic self, a metaphorical mirror in the Imaginary, to the Other of society, of many people, as in the Symbolic).

Johan has recently, however, in his growing psychosis, needed to experience secondary narcissism (a return to ego-love, away from object-love) as a defence against psychological fragmentation, a falling apart of the mind and a psychotic break from reality. So when Johan tells the guests, after the puppet show, of his modest assessment of his own artistic creations, we can see this as an example of his false modesty, his conflicted attitude to his narcissism, an attempt to resist the defence of secondary narcissism, which in turn puts him in more danger of psychosis.

A little bit after Johan’s telling Alma of his childhood experience in the closet, he tells her about a time he was fishing on a rocky shore, and a boy in a bathing suit was sitting by him. Johan ended up struggling with and killing the boy, then throwing the body in the water, but it bobbed up to the surface for a moment.

Alma is horrified to hear this confession from her husband, but given how the fishing scene is filmed–it’s overexposed, with quick edits of more than thirty shots, and it’s mostly without sound (except for the boy’s cries of pain as Johan bashed his body against a rock behind them), replacing the sound with creepy music–we get the impression that Johan’s flashback is a fantasy rather than a real event.

If it’s a fantasy, as I’d say it likely is, then what we’re seeing is a distortion of Johan’s actual, unconscious mental processes. Professor Frank Gado, in The Passion of Ingmar Bergman (1986), speculated that Johan fears he is homosexual. Earlier, when Johan showed Alma the pictures he sketched of his ‘demons,’ he spoke of one of them, “the one who turns up most often,” as “almost harmless” and–Johan thinks–homosexual. Since these ‘demons’ are his projected internal objects, this one could easily be his projected fear of homosexuality. Also, towards the end of the film, when he has heavy makeup put on his face, this can be an association made in his mind with homosexuality based on the stereotype of effeminacy as often perceived by society, and thus also probably by Johan.

Anyways, the fighting with and killing of the boy, meant by Bergman to look “orgasmic” according to Barbara Young in The Persona of Ingmar Bergman: Conquering Demons through Film (2015) can–as a fantasy–be like a dream distortion of the homosexual rape of a boy, or at least the unconscious desire to commit such an act, or in turn the fear of such an unconscious desire. The boy being on Johan’s back, as he bashed the boy against a rock behind them, could be a projection of Johan’s (perceived and feared) forbidden wish to be on the boy’s back.

The fantasy of killing the boy can also be like a dream distortion of raping the boy in how historically rape, including the pederastic sodomizing of boys, has been compared to murder…sometimes seen as even worse than murder. So in Johan’s mind, distorting the scene from one of rape to one of murder can be a way for him to mitigate his guilt somewhat.

Dropping the boy’s body in the water symbolizes Johan’s attempt at repressing the feared forbidden desires in his unconscious. The body briefly rising to the surface, however, represents the return of the repressed, which always comes back in unrecognized forms…in the case of this dreamlike fantasy, like the form of a dream distortion.

After Johan has made this confession to Alma, a man arrives in their house to invite Johan once again to the castle for dinner, and to give him a pistol. Veronica Vogler will be at the party, so naturally, Johan is interested.

The visitor leaves, and Alma in her growing jealousy wants Johan to tell her more about Veronica. He tries to trivialize the affair as something that came and went, but she knows from his diary that it’s still alive in his mind. As she’s reading of his obsessive passion for Veronica in the diary, he’s playing with the pistol. Since the gun is a phallic symbol, this fondling of it can represent masturbation as he hears his wife reading about Veronica.

He says it was a five-year affair, which could be an unconscious distortion of a five-year-old boy’s experience of the Oedipus complex. His guilt from the scandal of the affair with Veronica, his mistress, could be a distortion mitigating his guilt of actual Oedipal love.

Now, I’m not saying that I agree with the following idea (I most certainly don’t), but I bring it up merely to explore the Freudian themes as I see them unfolding in this film. An unresolved Oedipus complex, in its classical (and I believe far too limiting) formulation was thought to lead to homosexuality, which could explain Johan’s fears of possibly being gay, given his Oedipal transference in Veronica. The point is that she as a mistress, as is the case with him possibly having homosexual desires, is just repression, distortion, and mitigation of his forbidden Oedipal feelings. Better to love other men, or a mistress, than to want one’s own mother.

Johan, of course, won’t let Alma’s jealousy stop him from being with Veronica again, so he takes the pistol and shoots Alma. He doesn’t kill her: he only wounds her, which reflects his conflict over whether he wants her or Veronica, resolving itself in a parapraxis of three shots fired. Then he rushes off to the castle.

The first person he meets there, significantly, is Gamla Fru von Merkens (Brost), the countess mother of the baron. She could be seen as an unconscious displacement of Johan’s own mother, a projection onto the baron. During the dinner table scene, we heard her say, “nowadays I want to be loved.” And all Johan could do during all that irritating dinner chit-chat was to drink and drink, to take his mind off of all of it.

While with the countess now, she’d have him accompany her as she eats her dinner, she who wants to be loved, as if it were a romantic dinner date. She’s clearly trying to seduce him. She tells him she thinks of herself as one of the “old harlots,” to use Lindhorst’s words, who “have an unhealthy desire to fill their mouths and stomachs.” Such a choice of words sounds unmistakably sexual especially in the context of Johan’s wish to reunite with Veronica.

The countess offers him a bite of the chicken leg she has on her dinner tray, and she denies any knowledge of a dinner party. Looking at him lewdly, she asks him to help her remove her stockings. That she’s old enough to be his mother, never mind the baron’s, clearly implies an Oedipal relationship that makes Johan most uncomfortable, since the countess is far too close to the real thing, whereas Veronica, his age, is further removed as a transference, and so she makes for a far less uncomfortable mother-substitute for the guilt-laden man.

The countess senses he doesn’t want to touch her, yet she says she is the one who can tell him where to find Veronica, so connected the two women are to each other. The point is that both women are associated, in his unconscious, with his Oedipally-desired mother. The countess asks him to look closely at her feet, at her young, tight arches, her smooth and fine heel, and her “strong toes and beautiful nails.” She asks him to kiss her foot; he gives in and kisses it. She caresses his cheek like a lover, and she tells him to go to the west gallery to find Veronica. Off he goes.

So both the countess and Veronica, in the mishmash of Johan’s unconscious as it’s expressed in the surrealism of this film, are his mother transferences, split off from each other. On the way to the west gallery, first he sees a raven…an ill omen. Then he encounters the jealous baron as I described him above. He is the countess’s son and Veronica’s lover, a relationship paralleling that of Uranus and his mother/lover, Gaea. Recall that I described the baron, in this connection, as a father transference for Johan, fearing a supplanting (a Laius complex) comparable to how Uranus hated his Titan sons and daughters, including the son who would supplant him, Cronus.

It’s interesting how, at the end of this scene, the baron walks away from Johan, then in a surreal moment, he walks up a wall and onto the ceiling, looking down on Johan from above, like a sky-father god (Uranus, Cronus, or Zeus) looking down from the heavens onto Earth and speaking of his jealousy. The baron, thus, is like Uranus hating his children, or like Cronus fearing being dethroned by his, or even Zeus, fearing being dethroned by his unborn child (who would be Athena) in the womb of Metis, which brings me to my next point.

Johan’s shooting of pregnant Alma could be in part motivated by a Laius complex similar to that of Cronus or of Zeus…or the father of Oedipus, of course. Johan’s own paranoid anxieties could indeed be partly caused by that child growing in Alma’s womb: will it supplant him? His shooting of her would thus be like Zeus eating the fetus in Metis’ womb, only in his conflict over whether or not to kill Alma, Johan’s shot missed and only wounded her in the arm, leaving a little scar.

Johan leaves the baron and comes to a room in which we hear a man playing music on a harpsichord; the music is from the Sarabande of JS Bach’s Partita No. 3 in A minor (BWV 827). Corinne and the Lady With a Hat are in the room with the musician. Corinne tells Johan that Veronica has been waiting for him, and that “she has become even more beautiful.” Corinne knows of her suffering husband’s jealousy, which amuses her, given how she has every reason to be jealous of his passion for Veronica. This would of course motivate Corinne to encourage Johan in pursuing Veronica, and so Corinne lies that one of his gunshots killed Alma, thus freeing him of her so he can have Veronica.

So we have Alma’s jealousy, Corinne’s jealousy, the baron’s jealousy, and even Johan’s jealousy over his unborn child: jealousy is a major theme in Hour of the Wolf.

When the Lady With a Hat takes it off to hear the beautiful harpsichord music better, her hair also comes off. In another surreal moment, so do her face and even her eyes. We’re reminded of how Oedipus ‘lost face’ upon learning of his incest with Iocaste, and how he put out his eyes, and she hanged herself, having also ‘lost face.’ Thus the Lady With a Hat can be seen as another projection of Johan’s mother internal object, and her removal of her eyes and face can be seen as a projection of Johan’s own ‘loss of face’ and his wish to put out his own eyes in shame.

Johan leaves the two women and comes into a room with Lindhorst, where again he encounters the cawing raven, his ill omen of what’s soon to come. Lindhorst notes how pale Johan looks, no doubt from the horrors he’s experienced and the guilt and shame he feels from approaching his next sexual union with Veronica, his mother-transference. Lindhorst applies makeup to Johan’s face.

With the makeup on, Johan is also given perfume and “beautiful pajamas” to wear from Lindhorst. This feminizing of Johan is symbolically an emasculating of him, similar to the castration symbolism of the gnawing off of the toes of naughty children by the little person in the closet of his childhood trauma, as I mentioned above.

Indeed, the threat of castration by the father is how a boy is supposedly made to end his incestuous love of his mother, according to Freud. In Lacanian terms, le Non! du père forces the boy to realize he cannot be the phallus for his mother, a symbolic castration that takes him out of the dyadic mother/son relation of the Imaginary, from the other to the Other of society in general, to the Symbolic.

On the way to see Veronica, Johan sees a large group of fluttering birds: yet another ill omen of what’s to come.

So in the climactic scene of the movie, when ‘tarted up’ Johan is in a room with naked Veronica lying on what appears to be an autopsy table, with a blanket over all of her body, as if she were dead and left with the coroner, it’s as if he were at last reunited with his (dead?) mother, back when she was young and beautiful. Eros and Thanatos are one in this moment, the hour of the wolf, a moment of birth and death. He removes the blanket and runs his hand up and down her body, an action symbolic of sex with her. Then she arises suddenly and laughs, and he kisses her passionately.

Then he hears the judgmental laughter of all of the guests, his ‘demons.’ With his lipstick smudged, he looks in shame at them; he’s reliving the dissolution of his Oedipus complex, as he had as a child in that closet. He feels castrated once again, like the gnawing away of his toes by the little person in the closet, and he feels humiliated for it. He masochistically thanks the guests for judging him for his sin, they who represent his punishing father; and as he continues speaking, we hear no more of his words: he’s entered the wordless, inexpressible, traumatic realm of the Real. We then see a flashback of the dead boy floating to the surface of the water, Johan’s fear that he’s homosexual, his mental association (right or wrong) with psychological castration.

Alma says he’d been writing in his diary the whole time; in other words, his trip to the castle has all been a hallucination, the waking dream of a psychotic who cannot sleep or dream, as Bion described such people. She goes into the woods to find him. He’s lying on the ground, only half-conscious. She tries to comfort him; but because she, in her closeness to him over the years of their marriage, is at one with him, she shares the hallucination and sees him become the baron.

Johan is farther off in the woods. All the ‘demons,’ or ‘cannibals,’ as Johan has called them (also Bergman’s original name for the film, recall), are there with him. Heerbrand gets his revenge on Johan and slaps him several times. He’s bleeding at the neck, as if from a vampire bite. The other ‘cannibals’ close in on him. He sees the omen of the raven again. The attacking ‘cannibals’ are punishing him, as Father would, for his Oedipal desires, his transference of them onto Veronica. Alma can only watch helplessly. Then Johan disappears forever, absorbed in the void of the Real.

At the end of the film, Alma finishes her narrative, asking if she’s really become like Johan, out of her love for him. She thinks and sees like him, sharing his hallucinations and madness, though without its violence–she’s only deeply sad about it. She loved him, but in being like him from that love, of course she couldn’t have protected him better. He was beyond hope, as was their marriage.

Such incurable madness, based on a universal narcissistic trauma (wanting to hog a parent all to oneself) that so many of us deny even exists, is in my opinion what makes Hour of the Wolf so disturbing. We all have in us the potential to go as mad as Johan does, to disappear, to lose our very souls–all because of unconscious feelings that are all too relatable.

The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Seven

“Don’t you dare form a union!” Jack Lipton shouted down the mining hole at Steve and Jim, the two miners who had been discussing the idea for weeks with their colleagues, one of whom, sucking up to Lipton, told him. “You’re lucky to have a job at all, in this economy. If you go on strike, I’ll replace you all!”

“We have a perfect legal right to get organized,” Steve shouted back up at Lipton. “You know that perfectly well. The working conditions down here are atrocious! I don’t think I even need to prove how much worse the working conditions are for your workers in your many fracking operations, Mr. Lipton.”

“And the pay nowhere near compensates for the bad conditions here,” Jim added. “Beyond whoever squealed on us, the vast majority of us miners agreed to unionize. We’ll work to rule.”

“And replacing us with scabs won’t stop us!” Steve said. “We’ll convince the scabs to join us. It won’t be hard, once they see how bad it is down here. You’ll see, Mr. Lipton.”

“You ungrateful bastards!” Lipton shouted. 

“Ungrateful,” Steve snorted. “We’re grateful to be still alive down here in this hell—“

Just then, everyone felt a brief tremor.

“We’re about to be reminded of how dangerous it is down here,” Jim told Steve. “We may not be grateful for much longer.”

Another, stronger and longer tremor shook everyone.

“Oh, God,” Steve said.

Lipton’s foot slipped a little too close to the hole. “Jesus!” he said after almost falling in. He backed up a bit.

Immediately after that, Steve, the further up of the two miners, flew out of the hole, screaming. He fell on the ground to the right of Lipton. No bones were broken, but the arm, hip, and leg that hit the ground were in great pain. He was groaning and rubbing his sore spots.

“What the hell happened?” Lipton asked.

“I…don’t know,” Steve said in a scratchy voice.

“Aaaaah!” Jim screamed as he flew out of the hole in the same way. He hit the ground, with a grunt of pain, to Lipton’s left.

Stepping back twice towards the hole and looking at the two hurt men, Lipton asked, “What could possibly have vomited you two out of the hole?”

The two men shook their heads.

“Me,” a deep, booming voice called out from the hole, causing all three men to shudder. Then powerful sucking came from it.

Steve and Jim slid closer to the hole, but Lipton got sucked in screaming. The sucking stopped, and the two men could hear Lipton screaming and knocking against the rocky walls of the mine, falling in deeper and deeper, until his screams ended.

Steve and Jim just sat by the mouth of the hole in complete silence, shaking. They looked at each other.

“What the hell just happened?” Jim asked.

Steve shrugged, still shaking. Then he remembered his wife’s warning to be ‘especially careful’ over the next few weeks. Then he remembered her ‘pagan nonsense,’ and thought, No…I ain’t gonna go there. I certainly don’t wanna talk about it with Jim. He’ll think I’m nuts…which I’m starting to think I am, too.

“I guess we gotta search for Lipton,” Jim said. “If anyone dares go down there, that is.”

Steve shook his head. “Not me.”

A search was conducted soon enough.

“C’mon,” the foreman said to those further down the hole. “Keep looking.”

Lipton’s body was never found…not even at the deepest point of digging.

Near that area, though, a miner’s light shone on the stony, muddy wall.

A man’s face, carved in the mud and rock as if by a sculptor, was smiling.

The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Six

The gods met in the dark place again.

“Now that I, our brother in the sea, and our grandmother and sister of the Earth, have sent out our warnings,” Zeus said. [We’ll use the Greek names, too, for convenience.] “It is time for you to send yours, Brother.”

“Yes,” Hades said. “I know a particularly despicable man in the oil mining and…as the people of Earth call it…’fracking’ businesses. He deserves to meet an unhappy end.”

“Good,” Zeus said. “With your attack, our wave of warnings will be complete.”

“But most won’t listen,” Gaea said with more tears running down her cheeks. “You saw how that young man’s brother wouldn’t even consider that the deaths of his clients were caused by me.”

“No, of course not,” Zeus said. “People like him never listen. We do not do these things, however, to make the deaf hear us. We do them to make those who do listen, listen harder. As for those who never listen, we can know that we gave them all fair warning, so we needn’t pity them or feel any remorse when we ultimately destroy them.”

“Yes, Brother, this is true,” she said after a few more sobs. “I just wish this all didn’t have to be so painful for everyone.”

“They already make everything painful for everyone,” Hades said. “What we are doing will ultimately end the pain, and bring in a newer, better world for all.”

“Yes, and the making of all things to be new is coming very soon,” Poseidon said.

“Go, Brother,” Zeus said to Hades. “Go find that employer of miners and…’frackers.’ Send him the message he and his workers all need to see and hear.”

“Immediately, Brother,” Hades said to Zeus, then he disappeared from the place.

Nina woke up from the dream. Hades is going to hit the owner of a mining company, someone who is also into fracking? she thought. And the gods have sent the dream to me! Then she whispered, “Mr. Lipton, my husband’s boss?” I’d have no sympathy for him if he dies, since he’s such a greedy asshole, but Steve works in one of his mines. What if he gets killed?

She went online and started an instant message with Michelle. “Did you just dream about the gods discussing the attacks on Earth?” she typed.

“And that Hades was going to hit the owner of a mining company?” Michelle typed.

“I’ll bet Shelly and Gary have had our dream, too,” Nina typed. “My husband works for a mining company.”

“Oh, no!” Michelle typed. “You’ve got to warn him.”

“I will as soon as I can. But what about Shelly and Gary?”

“Yeah, let’s get them in the discussion as soon as they’re available,” Michelle typed.

Nina looked back in the direction of her bedroom. She saw Steve getting out of bed to go to the bathroom.

“Honey,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said as he turned on the bathroom light and went in.

“When you go to work over the next few days…the next few weeks,” she said, “be especially careful, OK?”

She didn’t hear an answer because the bathroom door was closed. All she could hear was the tinkling of his piss in the toilet water.

“Honey, did you hear me?”

She heard a flushing of the toilet, then he came out of the bathroom.

“What was that, honey?” he asked with a yawn.

“When you’re at work for the next few days and weeks, be especially careful, OK?”

“Why do I have to be especially careful? What big bad thing is going to happen? Is Mr. Lipton planning to have us all killed for wanting to form a union?”

“No, I don’t think it’s going to be anything like that, unless you’ve been really vocal about it,” she said.

“Then what are you worried about?”

She thought for a second. He’s not going to believe any of my pagan stuff. “Oh…just be careful, OK?”

“Anything you say, babe,” he said, then went back to bed. I’ll bet it’s more of her ‘pagan’ nonsense, he thought as he lay there, beginning to drift back off to sleep. Whatever. I’ll be careful.

She was too worried to go back to bed just yet.

The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Five

A few days later, some rich old men were playing golf on their exclusive country club’s course in Indiana…the one Gary had been talking about. One of them, Gene, snorted at his caddy, who was daydreaming at the moment.

“Jeff!” Gene growled at the young man. “Get out of dreamland and get me my putter!”

As Jeff looked through Gene’s golf bag, he said (not softly enough), “Little kids should be playing here, not grumpy old men with too much money.”

“What?” Gene snapped.

“I think you heard me fine,” Jeff said, looking Gene straight in the eye.

“It’s your job to be my caddy, to give me advice on how to play and give me my clubs immediately, not to give me lip! Do you understand?!”

“Yes, but you can try being a little nicer, too, old man. We workers have feelings too, you know.”

“Do I have to report you to the country club, you insolent little bastard?”

“I’ll speed things up for you, you stuck-up rich cunt! I quit.” Jeff gave him the finger along with the putter, then started walking off.

“I’ll make sure you never work as a caddy again, you little shit!”

“Good,” Jeff said as he kept going.

“Smart-ass kids these days have no respect for the elderly,” said the man Gene was playing against. “He’ll need all the help he can get finding a job in this economy.”

“You’re goddamn right, Roger,” Gene said, then got into position to putt his ball into the hole. “Those working-class lowlifes are way beneath us.”

But just as he was about to tap the ball, the ground began shaking.

“What the hell?” Roger said. “Since when do we ever get earthquakes in this area?”

The shaking didn’t stop. In fact, it got worse. Instead of being afraid, though, Gene just got angry with the inconvenience of it all.

“Goddammit, when’s the shaking gonna stop?” Gene grumbled. “I’m surprised my ball hasn’t fallen off its tee.”

“Yet,” Roger added.

“Oh, shit!” Gene shouted as he saw it finally fall off. “It’s rolling away!”

“Oh, my God!” Roger yelled as the shaking was getting really bad, causing them both to stagger.

The two men were no longer able to keep their balance. They fell on their asses. Their golf cart went on its side. Other golfers were yelling in shock at the worsening quake, staggering and falling, too.

Then Gene and Roger, still lying on the ground, looked down at the grass just by them. The ground was cracking open. The two men gasped.

Gene’s ball fell in the widening opening.

A few seconds later, so did Gene and Roger, screaming the whole time as they went down. 

Their bodies smashed against the rocky walls inside, then their screaming stopped forever.

Several other rich golfers fell in screaming, too, their screams also being silenced soon after.

Shocked Jeff was frozen in fear, after having also fallen to the ground and lying there, as he saw his two bosses fall to their deaths, swallowed up in the earth. 

I may not have liked the two of them, he thought, but I wouldn’t have wished that on them. I wouldn’t have wished that on my worst enemy.

Then he looked down at the grass, now that the earthquake had ended and the cracks had closed up.

He saw a woman’s beautiful, smiling face in the shadows between the grass blades.

“What in the flying fuck?” he whispered to himself. I’m not high. Why am I seeing that? he wondered.

Gary wasn’t anywhere on the grass to see her face, but he was in the staff building, in his brother’s office. They all felt the quake, Gary having just finished chatting with his brother about the thunderstorm and the sea storm, as well as the dreams, and putting up with his brother’s sneers and derision about Gary’s pagan interpretations of what had happened. 

The beginning of the quake stopped his brother’s laughing. 

The continuing—and worsening—of the quake replaced his laughing with bodily trembling.

They both needed several minutes to calm down once the shaking ended.

“Do you believe me now, Cam?” Gary asked.

“You think a goddess caused this quake?” Cam, who’d had both shared dreams but forgot all about them, said. “Look, I’ll agree that this was scary, what just happened, but I’m not about to lose my ability to reason, Gary.”

“Suit it yourself, Cam,” Gary said. “But I can guarantee you that more mayhem is going to come, and to more rich people like those old farts out there. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cam said. “Sure. Pray for me, won’t you?”

“I will, Cam. But it will be up to you to change your attitude if you expect to survive what’s coming.”

“Oooh!” Cam walked out of the room laughing, if nervously.

“If you’re not going to worry about yourself, you can worry about your clients, Cam!”

Though his brother was certainly worried about his clients, especially the families of those who had been swallowed up in the earth, he didn’t show such concern to Gary by closing the hallway door behind him. 

Gary just sat on a sofa in the room and let out a big sigh.

“What the hell am I going to do?” he whispered to himself. Cam is never going to listen to me. He’s such an arrogant asshole, but he’s my brother, and I love him. His sympathies lie completely with the rich bastards to patronize this country club. All he cares about is the money this place makes, the profits he shares with the boss. He’s gonna die with all of them when the gods finally do their thing. How am I going to save Cam?

The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Four

The next day, the incident was discussed on social media. Of course, virtually nobody, outside of a few in the neopagan community, mentioned the face in the water.

“I have no sympathy for the dead,” one embittered woman, one of the staff on the yacht, said about the wealthy there. “I overheard their conversations while I was serving them. They showed no sympathy for how the economy was affecting the poor. They were also often rude and impatient with our service. Why should I feel bad for them?”

The woman who’d tried to help clean the bad-tempered guest’s dress said this about her: “The ocean cleaned her dress. Good enough.”

Michelle and Gary were in a group chat with their friend, Nina.

“So, you had the same dream as us?” Gary asked Nina.

“Judging by how the two of you described it, I’d say I had the exact same dream as you,” Nina said. “I know there were a few people who claim they saw a bearded face in the clouds the night of the thunderstorm, and a bearded face on the waves when the yacht sank.”

“Were the people who saw the face any of the staff on that yacht?” Michelle asked.

“No, they were people on the rescue boat, including people who don’t believe in any gods, just people too shocked to believe their own eyes,” Nina said, “and too reluctant to go public with what they saw.” 

“Another thing should be talked about,” Gary said. “The people who were killed were all rich and powerful.”

“They were also widely hated,” Nina added.

“Yes,” Michelle said. “And when you put that together with the fact that the world is being destroyed by global warming, constant wars, and economic hardship, you can see why the gods are intervening. Us all having the same dream, the faces of—let’s use Greek names, for convenience—Zeus and Poseidon in the clouds and water, these are clear signs that something major is happening. This is all way beyond mere synchronicity.”

“We can be sure of one thing,” Gary said. “The gods are very, very angry.”

“Angry?” Nina said. “They’re enraged.”

“Infuriated,” Michelle said.

“As they said in the dream, man’s wickedness has gone too far, and the gods don’t wish to sit idly by anymore,” Gary said.

“We’re going to have to keep our eyes and ears open,” Nina said. “Something big is going to happen, and we don’t want to be among those who suffer and die in it. We must discuss this with more of our friends and fellow believers, as well as our families.”

“My brother manages a country club where lots of rich folks go to play golf,” Gary said. “I have a premonition something’s going to happen there. I had a dream in which I saw the earth-goddess’s weeping face. It ended with the green of a golf course. It really looked like the one in my brother’s country club.”

“Oh, my God!” Michelle said. “Did you see the globe of the Earth with a woman’s crying face, coming nearer and nearer to you, like a camera closeup?”

Gary gulped and said, “Yes.”

“So did I,” Michelle said.

“So did I,” Nina said. “Exactly as you both described.”

None of them said anything for several more seconds.

Gary was the first to type something next: “Some of us have family who won’t ever open their minds to anything even remotely pagan. Still, that won’t stop us from loving them. My brother, whom I mentioned a little while ago, is such a person. How are we going to convince them to do what needs to be done, if a worldwide disaster is coming, as all the signs seem to be showing?”

“That’s a good question,” Michelle responded. “My mother is a Christian, but the books I’ve bought her over the years, ones by Bishop ‘Jack’ Spong, have opened her mind up a little. I might be able to get her to listen to reason, but I don’t think it will be easy. I wonder if she’s had the same dreams as us.”

“Let’s pray for the best,” Nina said. “My husband doesn’t share my faith, either, but I bet I can nag him to do what needs to be done. As I said, let’s pray to the gods for help when this all starts to get scary, as it looks like it will.”

The Gods Must Be Furious–Chapter Three

A week later, Mr. and Ms. Plantagenet, owners of a large investment company named after themselves, were on their yacht with some wealthy friends on a California shore. The yacht was tied to the pier, and all the people aboard had each already had several drinks.

“I’m so glad the stock market crash didn’t affect any of us, Tom,” a female guest said to Mr. Plantagenet.

“That’s because, due to our ability to pull the strings of the banks and the federal government, we could prevent the stock market crash from affecting us,” Tom said.

All the guests chuckled.

“A phone call here, an email there, and our representatives can bail out anyone we need them to,” Ms. Plantagenet said.

“That’s so reassuring, Donna,” a male guest said to Ms. Plantagenet. “Since my company was one of the ones that needed a bailout.”

“As Donna and I know, let the common people suffer under the bad economy, not us,” Tom said.

The rope that moored the yacht was loosening and untying…all by itself.

“I agree, Tom,” the male guest said. “The masses are not our problem.”

“Hear, hear,” Tom said. All the guests clinked their champagne glasses together.

“If the masses don’t want to suffer, they should lay off the drugs and stop wasting money on non-essentials,” Donna said.

“Agreed,” the others said together.

The boat was drifting into the ocean, though everyone was too caught up in the conversation to notice.

“A most annoying thing happened to us while at work today, you know,” Tom said.

“Oh, and what was that?” the male guest asked.

“A bunch of university students were protesting in front of our building this morning, can you believe that?” Donna said with a sneer.

“Protesting about what?” the female guest asked.

“Oh, the usual bullshit,” Tom grunted as he had his glass refilled. “We’ve too much influence on the banks and the government, we have too much money and they have too little, all that crap.”

The other guests groaned in annoyance.

“What did you do about it?” another guest asked.

“We called the cops and got rid of them, of course,” Donna said. “A few of the long-haired young men resisted arrest, so the cops beat them.”

“Served the bastards right,” Tom said.

“Oh, definitely,” the third guest said.

Finally, one of them looked out at the water. “Where are we?” she asked.

“What do you mean, ‘where are we’?” Tom asked, then looked out at the ocean. “What?”

Everyone was looking out at the water now.

The pier and shore were nowhere in sight.

The sun had set. Clouds were covering the moon and stars. The guests had only the yacht’s electricity for light. Worried murmurs were heard.

“Derrick?” Donna called out to a staff member. “Radio the Yacht Club onshore. Ask for help.”

“Yes, Donna,” Derrick said, then went off to do it.

Heavy gusts of wind started blowing. The waves were rocking the yacht. Drinks were spilt.

“Dammit!” one of the guests yelled at the stain on her dress. “You!” she shouted at one of the female staff. “Come with me and help me clean this!” They left for the washroom.

The wind and rocking of the yacht continued; it was getting more intense. It also started to rain.

“Oh, no!” Donna said. “Derrick, have you contacted the Yacht Club? What did they say?”

“There’s something wrong with the radio,” he said. “I can’t get any connection with the shore. I tried and tried, but I couldn’t.”

“What are we going to do?” a guest said. “It’s looking like a storm out there!”

A sudden crack of thunder startled everyone.

A flash of lightning scared them even more.

The rain was splashing down. The rocking of the yacht was giving everyone the feeling of a real possibility of capsizing. Everyone onboard was panicking.

Derrick looked out on the water. He blinked and looked again. When the lightning flashed and provided some brief light, he was sure he saw a man’s bearded face among the waves. Apart from the moving of the waves distorting the image, it was as precise as a photograph. The face looked malevolent.

I haven’t had a drop of booze tonight, he thought. No pot, no LSD. And I never hallucinate.

Suddenly, there were bumping, crunching, and snapping sounds, as well as several great jerks as the yacht hit a rock.

The screaming got louder as the yacht was sinking. Everyone was trying to hang onto something to stay above the water, but only the staff managed to do so. Tom, Donna, and all their guests went straight underwater; it felt as though watery arms were pulling them all down. Some of them thought they actually saw and felt watery arms grabbing their bodies.

Before they all passed out, the last thing they saw, because of a few more lightning flashes, was that same bearded, scowling face among the shadows of the deep.

Hardly a second passed by since the last of the rich drowned, then the storm ended. The stars and the moon reappeared, restoring some light to the scene. The staff, hanging onto pieces of the broken yacht or to the huge rock it had smashed into, saw a boat approaching. A light from the boat shone on them. The staff cheered at their rescuers. 

As they got on the boat, a few of them, including Derrick, looked into the water, and with the light from the boat shining out onto the water, they saw that bearded face. Their eyes all widened.

This time, the face was smiling.

The Gods Must Be Furious–Prologue

This was the dream.

There was a meeting of all the gods in a place so dark—was it a cave? Was it the bottom of the ocean? Was it in a starless part of outer space?—only their divine eyesight allowed them to see each other.

The gods looked upon the weeping goddess of the Earth, and on those who were her stewards, with near despair.

“Something must be done,” the sky-father said in a deep voice. “We have been dormant for too long. We have allowed man to abuse our grandmother of the Earth several hundred years now. It cannot go on.”

“They stopped praying to us centuries ago,” the god of the sea said. “We tolerated that, but their sin has reached such lows. We cannot tolerate it anymore.”

“Since the praying stopped, we have been dormant, in a state of hibernation for so long,” the king of the underworld said.

“Not I,” the god of war said. “On the contrary, I have hardly been allowed to sleep since the filth has gone into the clouds, the sea, and on the land. My energy is nearly spent. I crave rest.”

“Man is killing me, and all of my children,” the earth mother goddess sobbed. “Man is killing himself, too, only he is too blind and foolish to see it. Save us, brothers and sisters—I beseech you.”

“Our grandmother in body, and sister in spirit, we know your pain,” the sky-god said.

“We will help you, dear sister, have no fear,” the goddess of the grains said. 

“All man cares about is money,” the god of commerce said. “He must either be freed of his slavish devotion to it, or he must be killed.”

“Not all of them,” the sky-father said. “There are a few good men, women, and all the innocent children who can be spared…or resurrected later, at least. First, we will seek out a select few of the evil ones to slay, as a message of warning to the others. Those who have ears, and will listen, we will provide them with protection when we destroy the rest. As for the evil ones, we will first provide fair warning.”

“They will not heed the warning, to be sure,” the sea-god said.

“No, they will not,” the sky-father said. “We will give them warning even still, for it is the just thing to do. Their unwillingness to heed our warnings will be upon them, not upon us.”

“How shall we do it?” the god of the underworld asked. “How shall we warn them?”

“Each of us will choose a group of victims and slay them,” the sky-father said. “You, my brother, find someone in the mining business, or in the hydraulic fracturing business, and destroy him. You, our grandmother of the Earth and our spiritual sister, find fitting victims. You, my brother of the sea, can find some wealthy sorts on their yachts and lead them to their doom. I, too, will find victims. After these attacks, we will await the world’s reaction, and act in a manner fitting.”

“So the people will know that these acts are not freak occurrences of nature, but deliberately carried out by us, we will have to leave signs,” the sea-god said.

“Yes,” said the sky-father. “When the attacks are finished, we will allow ourselves to be seen: me in the sky, you, Brother, on the waves of the water, on the grassy ground for you, our sister of the Earth, and in the underground rock for you, our brother. Someone will report on the sight of our images, and though most won’t believe, enough will—those who have eyes to see and ears to hear. These ones will have the faith to be saved.”

The dream ended there.

Who woke from it?

Many, many people saw and heard the exact same dream…all over the Earth.

These dreamers all wondered: was this dream mere wish-fulfillment, a wish that the wicked would be destroyed and the Earth saved…or was the dream prophetic?

“That dream felt so real,” Michelle said with a yawn. “Were the gods talking to me?”

“Why would I dream of something like that?” Gary asked himself as he sat up in bed. “Wish fulfillment? Do I want the gods to intervene in our shitty world that badly?”

Nina was rubbing her eyes and watching her husband sleeping peacefully beside her. I feel rather disappointed that that was only a dream, she thought. Since nobody else is doing anything about the Earth’s problems, a little divine intervention for the sake of our Mother Earth would be a good thing.

Shelly woke up with a start. Then she closed her eyes again, put her hands together, and prayed: “O gods, please do what I just dreamed…but show mercy, even to the wicked.”

Across the road from Michelle’s house, her mother woke up, too.

Why would I, a Bible-believing Christian, dream about pagan gods? she wondered. That was the kind of thing my daughter would have dreamt. Or were they angels? I’d rather believe that.

Cam woke up. “What a ridiculous dream, something Gary would have dreamed,” he whispered, then went right back to sleep.

The Tanah: Crests–Chapter Three

[The following is the forty-sixth of many posts–here is the first, here is the second, here is the third, here is the fourth, here is the fifth, here is the sixth, here is the seventh, here is the eighth, here is the ninth, here is the tenth, here is the eleventh, here is the twelfth, here is the thirteenth, here is the fourteenth, here is the fifteenth, here is the sixteenth, here is the seventeenth, here is the eighteenth, here is the nineteenth, here is the twentieth, here is the twenty-first, here is the twenty-second, here is the twenty-third, here is the twenty-fourth, here is the twenty-fifth, here is the twenty-sixth, here is the twenty-seventh, here is the twenty-eighth, here is the twenty-ninth, here is the thirtieth, here is the thirty-first, here is the thirty-second, here is the thirty-third, here is the thirty-fourth, here is the thirty-fifth, here is the thirty-sixth, here is the thirty-seventh, here is the thirty-eighth, here is the thirty-ninth, here is the fortieth, here is the forty-first, here is the forty-second, here is the forty-third, here is the forty-fourth, and here is the forty-fifth–about a fictitious discovery of ancient manuscripts of a religious text of narratives and magic spells. Its purpose for my readers and me is to provide a cosmology and mythography on which I am basing much, if not most, of my fiction–short stories and novels. If anyone is interested in reading this fiction, he or she can use these blog posts as references to explain the nature of the magic and universe in my fiction.]

Translator’s Introduction

This chapter is the last of the Crests. It is also the last of the texts of the Tanah to be translated…for now, until more have been discovered, to be translated and commented on when the time comes.

As has been explained in the commentary on earlier chapters, this crest is an ambiguous one. What is to become of humanity after the third and most terrible trough? Is man to be reborn in a new, peaceful world, or is he to exist only in a spiritual, nirvana-like state in the oneness of Cao? The elders of the tribe who saw the vision of this final crest do not know. The reader will have to decide for him- or herself.

Chapter Three

The last vision that we elders had, the final crest, was difficult to interpret. What was the true nature of the peace that we saw? Was it the quiet of man no longer fighting his brother, or was it the quiet of man no longer in existence, since death is often the highest peace, the one true escape from pain? Our uncertainty was chilling.

We saw flatlands with no plants or animals. We saw only barren desert waste and rock. Total silence. Not a single man, woman, or child could be seen anywhere, near or far, to populate the land.

Still, we could feel humanity; the souls of all people were a vibration throughout the air. These souls were all one, united in peace, with no bodies to make them seen or heard. Still, that collective soul was there, all in harmony.

Finally, after a long wait, what seemed like years, maybe hundreds or thousands of years, we saw the beginning growth of green, a tiny plant. Our vision thus ended.

We asked each other many questions about what we saw. Will the Pluries fall again, animating the rain with divine spirit and life? Would this plant we saw be the first of many more to come? Would new animal life come after the plants? And then, at last, would man reappear, to live in peace and harmony with his brother?

We can only hope so.

If not, may the united souls of man, in that vibration in the air, remain in peace by always being at one with Cao.