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I enjoy Lovecraft's fiction but I've never consciously used it as the basis of a working, though The Haunter of the Dark, especially, can prompt some interesting psychic shifts as it's being read. I'm always impressed by how The Case of Charles Dexter Ward hints at the scale and grandeur involved in a work of total self-transformation. I said "consciously used" because I did, in February 2009 e.v., have an experience which might sound as though it slithered from the pages of Lovecraft.
There is a collection of short stories by Robert W. Chambers called The King in Yellow which is the primary influence for Lovecraft's 'Necronomicon'. In Chambers' stories, 'The King in Yellow' is a play which, heard in its entirety, causes all manner of changes, mostly involving the hearer taking a turn towards total insanity. There are four stories by Chambers concerned with this play and, of course, he only gives excepts from the play, never the whole thing.
In February of 2009 I had a friend who was dying of cancer at an horrendously young age. Her mother had recently died too and her mother's house, in the far North of England, not far from the border with Scotland, was due to be sold. My friend really didn't have the energy to go up there and organise the various works and meetings that were needed, so I went for her. I got to the house and realised that the heating had been shut off for much of the winter. It was still very cold at that time of year and the house was freezing and damp. After hours of trying to find a way of getting the boiler to work, I gave up and thought I'd check into a hotel. I then found an old, portable electric heater and, while leaving much to be desired, thought I could just take it from room to room with me and make the best of things. The first night was a pretty miserable one but I eventually slept. The second night (very rainy, even by British standards), after a day of dealing with estate agents, I went to bed early and finished reading Gary Lachman's book on the 1960s. I had another book on the Haight-Ashbury lined up; I had deliberately chosen books that looked towards a sunnier time and place. In short, the time and place that I was experiencing were very bleak indeed.
Instead of the book on the Haight-Ashbury, I started reading The King in Yellow. I was initially confused by the first story, 'The Repairer of Reputations', but as I read, I began to understand what was going on in the story, that something was being apprehended by those who read the play and that something was changing them. I was intrigued enough to keep reading. By the time I finished reading the first story, a kind of transference from the book occurred where I realised that I was beginning to apprehend a presence in the room with me. At this time, I was very much a Traditional Satanist and apprehending presences in my own house was not uncommon, but this felt different. I put it down to imagination and kept reading. This was a mistake. That sense of presence became stronger and stronger across the course of the night and I realised that it wasn't "in the room" with me, it wasn't bound by geometry in that way but it was "here". Again I kept reading and by the time I finished the third story, I remember saying aloud to myself "You're feeding this thing and you need to stop". I didn't. I finished the fourth story and by then the presence was so palpable that I knew I wasn't imagining it. I remember thinking that if I said something else aloud, chaos would follow. It was only one o'clock and I realised with my heart beating like a drum that I had hours of this ahead before sunrise. To challenge myself for being so utterly childish, I forced myself to say aloud "If there's someone here, tell me who you are".
I don't know to this day if that was the stressor that caused my imagination to bleed into my consciousness in an hallucination; I had been under immense stress and sadness before I even came to the bleakest house in the world and read an insidious book. I don't know if I fell asleep and dreamt. I don't know if it was real. A tall figure floated through the open bedroom door wearing a green toga. The "head" was normal sized though it wasn't a head but a sun and on the face of the sun was a beaming smile that communicated genuine delight. Being in the presence of this thing felt like I could see the perimeters of my mind changing. I remember nothing else but when I did wake up, late in the morning, the power in the house was down.
Over the years, when I think back on that night, I see reading The King in Yellow had been an unconscious working. I had engaged in magic simply by reading it.
There is a collection of short stories by Robert W. Chambers called The King in Yellow which is the primary influence for Lovecraft's 'Necronomicon'. In Chambers' stories, 'The King in Yellow' is a play which, heard in its entirety, causes all manner of changes, mostly involving the hearer taking a turn towards total insanity. There are four stories by Chambers concerned with this play and, of course, he only gives excepts from the play, never the whole thing.
In February of 2009 I had a friend who was dying of cancer at an horrendously young age. Her mother had recently died too and her mother's house, in the far North of England, not far from the border with Scotland, was due to be sold. My friend really didn't have the energy to go up there and organise the various works and meetings that were needed, so I went for her. I got to the house and realised that the heating had been shut off for much of the winter. It was still very cold at that time of year and the house was freezing and damp. After hours of trying to find a way of getting the boiler to work, I gave up and thought I'd check into a hotel. I then found an old, portable electric heater and, while leaving much to be desired, thought I could just take it from room to room with me and make the best of things. The first night was a pretty miserable one but I eventually slept. The second night (very rainy, even by British standards), after a day of dealing with estate agents, I went to bed early and finished reading Gary Lachman's book on the 1960s. I had another book on the Haight-Ashbury lined up; I had deliberately chosen books that looked towards a sunnier time and place. In short, the time and place that I was experiencing were very bleak indeed.
Instead of the book on the Haight-Ashbury, I started reading The King in Yellow. I was initially confused by the first story, 'The Repairer of Reputations', but as I read, I began to understand what was going on in the story, that something was being apprehended by those who read the play and that something was changing them. I was intrigued enough to keep reading. By the time I finished reading the first story, a kind of transference from the book occurred where I realised that I was beginning to apprehend a presence in the room with me. At this time, I was very much a Traditional Satanist and apprehending presences in my own house was not uncommon, but this felt different. I put it down to imagination and kept reading. This was a mistake. That sense of presence became stronger and stronger across the course of the night and I realised that it wasn't "in the room" with me, it wasn't bound by geometry in that way but it was "here". Again I kept reading and by the time I finished the third story, I remember saying aloud to myself "You're feeding this thing and you need to stop". I didn't. I finished the fourth story and by then the presence was so palpable that I knew I wasn't imagining it. I remember thinking that if I said something else aloud, chaos would follow. It was only one o'clock and I realised with my heart beating like a drum that I had hours of this ahead before sunrise. To challenge myself for being so utterly childish, I forced myself to say aloud "If there's someone here, tell me who you are".
I don't know to this day if that was the stressor that caused my imagination to bleed into my consciousness in an hallucination; I had been under immense stress and sadness before I even came to the bleakest house in the world and read an insidious book. I don't know if I fell asleep and dreamt. I don't know if it was real. A tall figure floated through the open bedroom door wearing a green toga. The "head" was normal sized though it wasn't a head but a sun and on the face of the sun was a beaming smile that communicated genuine delight. Being in the presence of this thing felt like I could see the perimeters of my mind changing. I remember nothing else but when I did wake up, late in the morning, the power in the house was down.
Over the years, when I think back on that night, I see reading The King in Yellow had been an unconscious working. I had engaged in magic simply by reading it.
