Strange dream the other night. I was mixed up in a cult, whose origin was in the worship of a great tree, called Antaeus (In mythology Antaeus was the son of Gaia and Poseidon. He was a giant who compelled all strangers to wrestle with him and defeated or killed them all. He was invincible for as long as he remained in contact with his mother (the Earth) for she supplied him with strength. Heracles discovered his secret and lifted Antaeus from the ground and strangled him. The battle with Heracles is depicted on many Greek vases and even on coins.)
The cult was not so much of the living tree but of the dead one, for it had been felled, and the symbol of the cult was the profile of the inside of the trunk, which was in the shape of a grinning face. I seem to remember the other members were prone to violence and dressed like savages, although their headquarters was a shop on a High Street!
Now I’m not ill and haven’t been on medication. Can’t even put it down to drink. So where was this dream coming from? I’m a great believer in the pyschological interpretaion of dreams, especially symbolic ones, which this appears to be. I’ll have to read some Jung to put perspective on it, but any suggestions will be welcome. I have been revising chapters of my fantasy novel Inside Out recently, so perhaps I am just flexing my creative muscles after a bit of down time.