In light of recent events, it clear that I am in need of additional protection against whatever occult force or agency that is evidently seeking to invade my dreams (if, indeed, dreams are all they are). Fortunately I have in my possession two leaves purloined, as it happens, from the copy of the John Dee translation of the Necronomicon that rests in the special collection of the Miskatonic University library. With regard to my current predicament, the pages in question pertain to the use of the Elder Sign as an apotropaic ward against the forces of the Outside. Yesterday evening I made use of the powerful formulae found in these leaves, and I am pleased to report that last night was passed in a relatively peaceful and dreamless sleep.
Of note is the fact that the sign takes two different forms, commonly referred to in occult circles as the Star variant and the Tree variant, both of which can be discerned in the image below. Arrayed alongside the leaves themselves are amulets bearing both versions of the Elder Sign (and which have been the focus of previous entries):
On this festive morning, I cannot but help ponder the cojoined significance of the variant forms of the Elder Sign. The Tree and the Star. Given that these two things form the basic symbolic structure of the typical Christmas tree, I wonder if there might be some hidden and archaic meaning behind its display in many households. Is there some darker reason behind the tradition? Why is it that folk typically decorate the tree with a star during a festival that is meant to celebrate the birth of a hybrid being who was the product of a union between a human mother and a father praeternatural provenance - and heralded by the appearance of a new star? Is the tree less the symbol of celebration of birth and everlasting life, than a sign of protection against what such a birth portends at a time when the Stars are Right?
In any case, I wish you all, dear readers, a Merry Christmas. And if peace and goodwill between all people seems a distant prospect, then I wish you all, at least, the brief respite of peace and oblivion that comes from a dreamless sleep.