Mark and I lived in a house near the top of the hill where my family lives. I recall more about the location of the house than I do the actual house, which was a little south of the crest of the hill. I was outside the front door, possibly in the front drive, and I might have been floating. It was a sunny afternoon and the trees were green and leafy.
Mark came out of the house. He had an 8.5 by 11 inch paper (or papers) that he'd set on fire, and as the paper burned, it turned to black, curled, ashen fragments. The paper was white, and curled slightly at the top; I don't recall if anything was written on it, or if it was old mail, or a bill, or what. The fire was along one edge of the paper, and blackened it. The ashes flowed off of the smoldering page and formed a ring of black ashes floating around me at a little over an arm's distance. The point-of-view changed to a slow orbit around me, just outside the floating clumps of ash.
In the dream I thought this was cool, and I wondered exactly I might use a circle of black ash in my next ritual.
And then the dream went on to other things beyond my recall.
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