Have you ever had a dream where you were presented with a book? You know the type, where you open the book and read the words, enraptured, as they move and shift and the book writes itself beneath your gaze. This is a spirit-form, a particular type of spirit that we will henceforth refer to as an imaginal book.
Imaginal books are spirits that want to be a part of our world and often have their own agenda while they are here, an agenda apart from the human and one that we will likely never fully understand. To understand the nature of the imaginal book, the best source of theory is that surrounding the phenomenon of artists’ books. The best source of artists’ book theory is Johanna Drucker. Let’s begin our discussion by examining the first chapter of her book, The Century of Artists’ Books, entitled ‘Conceptualizing the Book: Precedents, Poetics, and Philosophy.’
“The idea of the artist’s book which comes to maturity in the later half of the 20th century is not without precedents. Many printers, typographers, and publishers were acutely aware of the book as a form and displayed this awareness through their productions. Aldus Manutius’ Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499), Geoffrey Tory’s Champfleury, (1529), and the Firmin Didot Virgil (1798) are examples of highly self-conscious productions of work in book form…. These outstanding examples of book production do not serve as a point of departure for conceptualzing the artist’s book… Genuine precedents for the conceptual practice of artists’ books can, however, be found in the work of several individuals. The work of two English artists, William Blake… and William Morris… exemplify certain features which later find varied expression in artists’ books… the writings of… Mallarmé… Flaubert… and… Jabès, raise philosophical, poetic, and cultural issues germane to understanding the book as a concept.”
Drucker breaks down for us how each of these writers, poets, and printmakers contributed to the foundation of artists’ book theory:
“William Blake was an engraver by profession… He printed the first example of what he termed illumnated printing in 1788… His innovation consisted in part of realizing that the metal plates he was familiar with as an engraver could be etched sufficiently to be printed in relief… Blake worked with a transfer process: writing first with the ground on paper and then transferring it by flipping the paper onto the face of the plate. When finished, the etched plate could be used to pull prints as they were needed… allowing him to work with an unlimited edition produced on demand. Blake obtained the idea for this technique from a vision in which his recently deceased and much beloved younger brother, Robert, appeared and described the process.”
Thus, the tradition of artists books was begun due to a spirit initiating contact. The work itself was also spiritual in nature and questioned religion and the nature of faith in Blake’s context. These beginnings make artists’ book theory the perfect ground truth for a theory of the imaginal book and instantiations of them in our physical reality. They share the same shape as Blake’s book and his process of creating them. Drucker continues her discussion of Blake, stating:
“The link between visionary sensibility and the book as a form is thus doubly inscribed in Blake’s work — through his engagement with the book as a means of expressing his cosmological beliefs, and through the history of his insight into the form through which this expression could be realized… editions contain considerable variety, not conforming to a single model of painting throughout the full run, but changing over time according to his temperament or disposition. Blake’s approach to the form of the edition, as something mutable and inconsistent, demonstrates his willingness to transform publishing conventions to suit his personal… vision.”
Blake’s approach to publishing also tracks with the imaginal book, in particular, the Necronomicon, whose editions in-the-real are radically different from one another, from different times, and imagined by different magicians, authors, and artists. Blake’s vision of the artists’ book is one that is ever shifting and responding to its context of its ‘mediums’ that bring it forth into the world. For Drucker, and for us, Blake is the connector between artists’ books and the imaginal book as a spirit form. As the author point out:
“The kernel of Blake’s thought was the valuation of imagination above all, with the corollary belief that each individual’s vision was innate and original and that to submit all creatures — human or animal — to uniform laws was oppressive and spirit crushing… Blake was an artist who believed that the imagination was a liberatory force… Blake evolved mythic characters who represented his passions and convictions. For instance, the character of Urizen is depicted as the epitome of the spirit struggling to survive in the waters of materialism… For Blake the book was the one primary form in which the complexities of textual and visual means could sustain a dialogue suitable to his cosmological vision.”
Blake was likely creating both the first artists’ books and channeling a spirit form through his archetype of Urizen.
Drucker continues, inadvertently recognizing one of the core reasons that spirit-forms manifest themselves as ‘book.’
“Blake’s work is an entirety, each volume depicts an aspect of the system of values he espoused. He believed in independent imagination and expression… As a precedent for the artist’s book, Blake’s work serves as the embodiment of independent through realizing itself through the forms and structures of the book.”
Blake also has set precedent for all instantiations of a work to be considered, not as separate objects, but as one entire entity that realizes its own personhood through these instantiations.
Applying that to the imaginal book as a spirit-form, we have motivation realized through the collective imaginal realm of the human. Moving on from Blake, Drucker begins an investigation of the equally fascinating William Morris’ and his work:
“[William] Morris’ essay, ‘The Ideal Book,’ would be realized visually in [his] Kelmscott Press publications: tight spacing, legibility, blackness of ink, whiteness of paper, an architectural sense of structure, and a conviction that a book must be designed as a spread or opening of facing pages, not as single sheets.”
While most of Morris’ points in the quote above might seem like good design to us today, the final point, designing a book as facing pages, gets closer to an Animist approach to the book. By thinking with a book as one is designing it, not as a series of pages to be put into an object, but as an object that has a relationship and a distinct series of cascading emotional effects on the reader, the book maker is acting again as the medium through which the relationship between book and reader is realized.
And then come the poets, and their contributions, interactions and theories related to the imaginal book, beginning with Burgess:
“[Gelett] Burgess… was a member of late 19th century San Francisco Bay Area Bohemia... [his] place in the history of artist’s books is based on [the] project ‘Le Petit Journal des Refusees.’ Purported to be the first issue of a journal, the work was in fact conveived as a unique item… He modelled it on the then current ‘fadazines’ or ‘fad magazines’ of the 1890s… whoever could get possession of a printing press in the United States was helping to burden the news-stands with monthly [submissions].”
This is an interesting point that we will put a pin in for another time, Burgess work, Le Petit Journal, is at once the progenitor of the zine and the academic journal. Burgess goes on to describe for us, through Drucker, what it feels like to be a medium for an imaginal book:
“Describing the evolution of the work, Burgess detailed… late night… sessions… inventing a work which would shock the ‘Philistines’ or ‘bromides’ as he called the safe, dull, middle class.”
The imaginal book is, even in its incorporeal stage, before it begins to realize its own instantiations in-the-real, is almost never a ‘safe’ thing, it is always disruptive, frightening, and subversive to normal society. In this way the zine is the perfect vehicle for the imaginal grimoire as it leaks into the world outside of dreams. The foundational theory of artists’ books once again returns to the fount of the spirit with Mallarmé
“Following a spiritual crisis he experienced in the late 1860s, the French poet Stephane Mallarmé began to elucidate an idea of the book as a metaphysical project… In [his essay] ‘Action Restricted’ Mallarmé collapsed his posing of the dilemma of how it is possible to act (in the broadest and most philosophical sense of conceiving of action and performing it) with an investigation of the act of writing. For Mallarmé the problem of acting involved the problem of confirmation of existence… That writing might produce evidence of an action and thus an existence was a distinct possibility, but the writer should not be deceived that [writing] was sufficient. Writing was an ineffective form of action… It remained for the [writing] to become ‘The Book’…”
Mallarmé continues the scaffold of the writer, or the book maker, as the medium through which the imaginal book can realize itself by occluding the act of writing. In our example, those writers of the different instantiations of the Necronomicon were not creating anything, it was only when the Necronomicon was realized as ‘book’ that something new came into existence. The imaginal state of the book can be fully comprehended through our understanding of spirit forms. The human does not create an imaginal book, does not create this spirit form, through the act of writing. The imaginal book creates itself, transmitting itself through the human as its vehicle into our world. A reification manifested as an entire body of instantiations, continually recreating themselves. Drucker extends the theory of the ideal book when she states that:
“The power of this book was that it existed alone, without connection to an author, as a text which ‘happens all alone; made, being. The hidden meaning stirs, and lays out a choir of pages.’ This book was not the means to counteract the ephemerality of human action, nor was it to be used against the existential fear about identity, adequacy, or existence: it was instead to be recognized as a realm unto itself, capable of containing ‘certain extreme conclusions about art which can explode, diamontinely, in this former time, in this integrity of the Book.’”
The imaginal book exists independent of humans and human thought. It does not care, nor can it be persuaded to care, about the human world, our panic, our dysphoria, our ego. The imaginal book recognizes itself, it is a sentient spirit form that we channel and react to. We are the actors in its world. Thusly:
“That ‘The Book’ could be ‘All’ and provide access to divinity through its form was the strongest motivation for Mallarmé’s vision… a book [has] the capacity to use its form to ‘establish some nameless system of relationships’ through which its strength could be realized.”
Moving on to the prolific Flaubert, Drucker has the following to say about his contribution:
“Gustave Flaubert’s use of the book as a major point of reference in his last, unfinished novel Bouvard and Pecuchet, makes a poignant counterpoint to the infinite space of the Mallarméan vision. In the novel… Flaubert describes two men who have been clerk-copyists throughout their professional lives who meet in middle age and forge a life together. One of them comes into an unexpected inheritance. Freed from the mundane task of making their living they move into a country house and begin the adventure of their new, unconstrained life. They undertake an endless series of enterprises, and in each new area of endeavor — whether it is aboriculture, agriculture, the collection of antiquities, spiritual enlightenment, or pedagogy — they acquire what the deem to be necessary knowledge through books. Flaubert’s ruthless insight is expressed through the terms of textuality…”
This trope is employed by Lovecraft as well, and almost always accompanies the mention of the Necronomicon. Our imaginal grimoire is always preceded or otherwise in the company of other literature, which Lovecraft uses to express his own insights through the vehicles of the book owners or, as is more often the case, through nested narratives of others discovering the collections of the owners, or recalling a story about the collection in which the Necronomicon was mentioned.
and finally, she brings into the formula Jabès
“[Edmond] Jabès takes the relationship between written text and active, ongoing interpretation which is fundamental to Jewish thought and makes it contemporary… and spiritually charged… The idea of limit suggested by Jabès is meant to invoke a sense of taboo… That limited can be intepreted in a positive sense as when Jabès states:
‘the Hebrew people gave Moses a crucial lesson in reading when they forced him to break the tablets of the law. Because they were not able to accept a word without origins, the word of God. It was necessary for Moses to break the book in order for the book to become human… This is exactly what we do as well. We destroy the book when we read it in order to make it into another book. The book is always born from a broken book. And the word, too, is born from the broken word…’”
By breaking the concept of book as a soulless mass-produced object produced by the will of humankind, by recognizing that book can and does manifest itself of its own accord, we are recognizing the personhood inherent in ‘Book’.
And then, pulling one of my favorites, Barthes, into the conversation, Drucker states that:
“For [Roland] Barthes the idea of the text as a continually changing construction formed through the process of reading is in part derived from the metaphors of [Jabès and Mallarmé]…”
An imaginal grimoire, such as the Necronomicon, is the fount from which the text of Lovecraftian Magic is continually formed in-the-real. Other imaginal books that often enjoy the Necronomicon’s company on the shelves of Lovecraft’s archetype’s libraries are extensions of it and of themselves. We experience the Necronomicon when it is channeled by its mediums, such as Colin Wilson or Simon, and presented to the world. Our experiencing of its instantiations are an act of breaking its imaginal form and in doing so, we contribute to its personhood just as Moses made the word flesh by breaking the tablets given to him by God.
Another favorite, if largely inscrutable, theorist, Derrida, is included at this point:
“In [Jacques Derrida’s] 1967 essay ‘The End of Writing and the Beginning of the Book,’ Derrida embraces the idea that the finite nature to which writing pretends, its definiteness, its capacity to notate with finality and to exist… in a condition of semi-permanence must all be called into question. When ‘writing’ is finished through a systematic investigation of its feints, trickeries, and deceptions, then the ‘book’ as an ongoing open-ended, dynamic operation can begin… Derrida’s book… gains its totality through its condition of unfinishedness. By being in a constant state of becoming, the book may be the world, not as its representation or surrogate, but as itself, in all of its unlimited, infinite entirety — never static and complete, always becoming.”
Relating this process to our traditional grimoires, what do we find? Are the grimoires a purely human construction? A result of a human recording the interaction and process of approaching and communicating with spirit forms? This doesn’t go far enough and, in fact, it robs spirit-forms of their personhood and goes against the Cunning traditions of treating grimoires as objects of power in and of themselves. Looking at the grimoire as a communication between humans, as instructions given from one human to many, is a materialist perspective. The classical grimoires have personhood. They are derived from the imaginal just as the Necronomicon. They have been channeled by magicians and broken by those same magicians. When the grimoires were burned by ecclesiastical authorities, this act only strengthened their personhood. They now come to us in a more broken form, a form more filled with personhood, more animated with spirit. They change through our research, they reveal themselves to us through a system of improbability informatics.
There is no better list of these instantiations then the one offered by Daniel Harms in The Necronomicon Files. In the introductory paragraphs in his chapter titled ‘Many a Quaint and Curious Volume…’ The Necronomicon Made Flesh, Harms describes for us the same phenomenon we have shaped in our discussion above:
“Almost three years ago, I wrote a book describing the monsters and books of HP Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos… At one time, I considered… this to be wonderful… but recently this has been tempered with unease as I feel my work slip from my grasp. On one occasion, a young person insisted that one of the entries in my encyclopedia had to be correct, even though it was deliberately contradicted by Lovecraft’s original story… At another time, I was informed that one individual had built up his own system of ritual magic based mostly on information from my book. These incidents and others have forced me to accept that a literary work is not an extension of the author, but rather exists apart from their intentions and can sometimes travel in surprising directions.”
Harms goes on to account for the history of the Necronomicon’s channeling from the imaginal and into the real, beginning with Donald A. Wollheim’s review of the Faraday Translation. Harms states that:
“Donald A. Wollheim, one of Lovecraft’s… correspondents who published an amateur science fiction magazine called ‘The Phantagraph’ [and] later became the founder of DAW Boooks… submitted a… review of the Necronomicon to the ‘Bradford Review and East Haven News‘... Wollheim’s review critiques a… translation of the Necronomicon privately printed by W.T. Faraday… the first English translation of the Necronomicon ever made, and… only the second publication of it since the Latin edition of Olaus Wormius.”
This, according to Harms, is the only surfacing of the Necronomicon from the imaginal that occurred while Lovecraft was still alive. It was only after the Necronomicon-as-spirit-form’s primary medium had walked through the final gate that it began to seek out others and reify itself, growing as a body of work and if our above arguments hold, growing in personhood. Lin Carter, a student of Lovecraft’s work, was the first to witness
“a leather-bound collection of quotes from the Necronomicon…”
This ephemeral scrap book appears to be the first type of instantiation of the Necronomicon. It reminds me quite a bit of our protagonist from our tale last week, the amalgam of corpse parts on the doorstep that was Asenath Waite. Harms states that one of these instantiations has made itself known to the public, Fred L. Pelton’s Cultus Maleficarum known by its more popular name, the Sussex Manuscript, of which only one existed, having now faded back into the imaginal.
In 1967, the late Jack Chalker published a book-length study of the Necronomicon which is attributed to Mark Owings as the medium through which it was channeled. This was later proven false, and the vehicle for transmission is now known to be Jack Chalker himself. This is the first available copy that I have been able to find and is described as a census of known copies. This is a similar manifestation to this imaginal grimoire’s first appearance as it was channeled by Lovecraft itself. If the entirety of copies make up the matrix through which an imaginal book’s personhood is expressed, it is rational to view these annotated bibliographies as attempts of the imaginal book to break through into reality.
The next medium through which the Necronomicon made itself known in our realm is the French comic artist Philippe Druillet. Who, according to ‘The Necronomicon Files’ offered a handful of illustrations for the October 1979 edition of Heavy Metal Magazine.
The 1970s were a time where the veil between the human and the imaginal, at least that corner of the imaginal that houses the Necronomicon, must have been quite thin. L. Sprague de Camp, the well known biographer of Lovecraft, also channeled and published an instantiation of the Necronomicon in 1973 by the title of Al Azif. This tome is a fascimile of an earlier and now lost instantiation acquired by L. Sprague de Camp from government officials on a trip to Iraq.
Harms goes on to mention other instantiations born of the 1970s when he states:
“Another book… was a curious volume called The Necromantic Grimoire of August Rupp…”
and in this incarnation our imaginal grimoire:
“was originally the work of Augustus Rupp, a professor of Mesopotamian history at Stuttgart University… In 1846, Rupp published his own grimoire… based on material taken from the Grimoire of Honorius… the Heptameron… and the Necronomicon. In the 1890s, Cambridge professor Carter Stockdale rediscovered the book and had it translated and re-published…”
also noted by Harms is:
“the Esoteric Order of Dagon… The members of the EOD, who generally number around twenty-four, mail each other small pamphlets containing essays, poetry, and fiction. One such work, found in the February 1976 mailing, was Robert C. Culp’s version of the Necronomicon… Culp… lived in Fort Myers, Florida [and] published [nothing] after his Necronomicon appeared, a fact true believers may consider significant.”
It should be noted that, as with the artists’ book born of our theory in the discussion opening this post, this imaginal grimoire does not only take a textual form. It is as if imaginal books extend themselves out into the corporeal realm in a variety of different forms, looking for the truest and most potent one, or perhaps like other spirit-forms, appearing the way we insist on seeing them. Of the purely visual instantiations, Harms offers us the work of:
“The Swiss Artist Hans Rudi Giger… [who] published a portfolio… entitled Necronomicon in 1977… Giger gives little information about his vision of the Necronomicon… He translates the word necronomicon… as ‘the types of masks of death’”
While some of this book’s mediums were and will remain forever in obscurity, certainly Giger has not escaped this audience’s attention. Another individual of repute in occult circles is the inestimable Colin Wilson. The imaginal grimoire having worked through him to manifest what Harms calls, The Hay Necronomicon: The Book of Dead Names. The Hay Necronomicon manifested when a friend of Colin Wilson’s, one:
“Carl Tausk mentioned to him that an occult scholar from Austria, Doctor Stanislaus Hintertoisser, might have some information [on the Necronomicon]. Wilson wrote Hintertoisser, who informed him that Lovecraft’s father, Winfield, had been an Egyptian Freemason… the Egyptian Freemasons possessed secret knowledge passed down from Cagliostro... Winfield Lovecraft saw some of this material at his lodge, and was taught to read (or decipher) it by a man named ‘Tall Cedar’.”
One of Wilson’s cohort, Robert Turner located a manuscript in the papers of the magician John Dee entitled ‘Liber Logaeath’:
“a manuscript made up of squares filled with letters. Turner sent these to David Langford, a computer programmer and cryptographer, who deciphered the manuscript and discovered the text of the [Hay] Necronomicon.”
Harms continues, offering information on the Elizabeth Ann Saint George Necronomicon, Merlyn Stone’s Necronomicon, La Magia Estelar: El Verdadero Necronomicon, the Pizzari Necronomicon, and the Fanucci Necronomicon.
And finally, probably the most realized instantiation of our imaginal grimoire, the Simonomicon, of which Harms has to say:
“The origins of the Simon Necronomicon remain a mystery, since those responsible for it have given two different versions of events. The introduction to the book itself relates how a monk… provided the original manuscript to Simon, an individual involved in both the translation of rare manuscripts and international espionage… For those who are unsatisfied with this explanation, The Necronomicon Spellbook gives a different version of events. The author (who is presumably Simon…) tells us that Simon was no spy, but a bishop with a great command of languages who ministered to the poor of New York. In the spring of 1972, two of his fellow monks brought him a 9th-century Greek manuscript of the Necronomicon that they had acquired through their thefts of documents from libraries and collections across the nation. The monks were captured shortly thereafter. This part of… the story checks out… Two monks from the Autocephalous Slavonic Orthodox Catholic Church were captured in March of 1973 after having stolen books from college libraries across the country, including those of Harvard, Yale, Chicago, and Notre Dame.”
The Simonomicon is probably the most successful attempt of the Necronomicon to make itself known in our world, but as we see, it is by no means the only such attempt.
How does our perception of the Necronomicon change when we pull back and view the entirety of its instantiations as one body of work, mutating even further through the perceptions and actions of its readers?
Our Lovecraft story for this week is, of course, The History of the Necronomicon from HP Lovecraft himself. As we read through it closely, keep in mind our baseline theories and how this spirit form who Lovecraft channels as a type of narrative annotated bibliography has evolved and pushed into our world through other mediums.
The Necronomicon itself is the sole focus of this work and is therefore the primary archetype. Lovecraft begins by offering us its true name:
“Original title Al Azif — Azif being the word used… to designate that nocturnal sound (made by insects) supposed to be the howling of demons.”
Which invokes for us thoughts of perhaps Pazuzu or genius loci endemic to the desert. The Necronomicon is a spirit-form of the desert, it is the wholly the opposite of the Lingua Ignota of Hildegard de Bingen. It is the absence of green and light, it is aridity, dust, and death. The desert more than any other location makes up the substance of this spirit form. In referring to its primary medium:
“Composed by Abdul Alhazred, a mad poet of Sanna, in Yemen, who is said to have flourished during the period of the Ommiade caliphs, circa 700 AD… spent ten years alone in the great southern desert of Arabia — the Roba el Khaliyeh or ‘Empty Space’ of the ancients [the] ‘Dahna’ or ‘Crimson’ desert… which is inhabited by protective evil spirits and monsters of death. Of this desert many strange and unbelievable marvels are told by those who pretend to have penetrated it.”
The Necronomicon then is best summoned, is best channeled, while existing in the desert landscape, either in the real or in the imaginal. Since this spirit-form exists in both realms, as has been discussed, either one will do for the magician that seeks to channel its words, images, and thought-forms.
If we are to add physical gateways associated with the Necronomicon, it would be the Syrian Desert near Damascus where it was written by Alhazred or the Polonezköy and Ayhan Sahenk Forests near Istanbul, where it was first translated into Greek.
In the year 1228, it is recorded, that Olaus Wormius made a Latin translation of the work. The date here, however, is not correct and is very likely 1628. Olaus Wormius was a physician, natural historian, and antiquary that lived between the years 1588 and 1654. He is commonly called just ‘Ole Worm’ in the historical record. By studying the work of this man we can trace the Necronomicon’s path from Instabul into Denmark or Norway, as Ole Worm was known to be a collector of literature written in Scandinavian languages. He was also a physician, having named the Wormian bones (those small bones that fill in the gaps in skulls) and so his Latin translation of the Necronomicon from a Scandinavian dialect would have been done with expertise. Aside from his adding to the instantiations of the Necronomicon, he also wrote expertly about rhinestones and texts written in runic dialects. He was a creator of ‘Curiosity Cabinets’ out of his vast collection of natural and historic artifacts. Of final note, Olaus Wormius also set forth a theory that has convinced modern naturalists that unicorns do not exist, so essentially he was the biggest bastard of the seventeenth century.
Our updated timeline, however, does not bring us any closer to finding the printing house that would have breathed life into the Wormius Necronomicon, the German cities of Ulm, Mainz, Stasburg, Basel and Nuremberg were plagued with print houses at this time, with two hundred illustrated books being produced in a twenty year period in just Nuremberg. Mainz is the likeliest candidate as it is only a days walk from Marburg, where Ole Worm spent years studying theology at their university.
As was mentioned above in the discussion around the Hay Necronomicon, John Dee made and encrypted the only English translation of the work.
Lovecraft continues to offer us gateways in the form of libraries that housed copies of the Necronomicon in his lifetime:
“Of the Latin texts now existing one… is known in the British Museum… while another is in the Bibiotheque Nationale at Paris. A seventeenth-century edition is in the Widener Library at Harvard… also in the library of the University of Buenos Ayres…”
The instantiation in the library of the University of Buenos Aires is of particular interest as it places the Necronomicon within the path of another master of short fiction, Jorges Luis Borges. Borges also visited many of the other locations housing instantiations of the Necronomicon mentioned above. We will leave this line of inquiry open for another time. As a final note, it is said in the ‘History of the Necronomicon’ that the novel ‘The King in Yellow’ is inspired by the Necronomicon. Its author, R. W. Chambers would have had access to the Wormius edition housed at the Bibliotheque National when he studied at the Academie Julian of Paris between 1886 and 1893.
The tarot match for the Necronomicon as an archetype is The Knight of Batons.
Our Etteilla deck offers us two keywords, Depart and Disunity
Depart can be traced from the Old French departir to mean ‘to divide, distribute, separate (oneself).’ The Necronomicon as a spirit-form has chosen the book to distribute itself from the imaginal across the real. Also of note is that ‘to depart’ is a euphemism for ‘to die’ and ‘the departed’ is another term for ‘the dead’ either singly or collectively. Depart folds back into the Proto-Indo-European root *pere-, which means ‘to produce’ and is expand into the modern prefix ‘para-,’ which can alternately mean ‘defense’ or ‘protection against’ as in the Italian parare, ‘to ward off’ or its more common meaning of ‘beyond,’ ‘altered,’ ‘irregular,’ as it is used in the word ‘paranormal.’
Disunity is a more complex term. Its primary term ‘unite’ stems from the PIE root *oi-no-, which means ‘unique.’ Its prefix dis- can be traced to the Latin meaning of ‘apart,’ or ‘in a different direction’. Essentially, disunity means to not be unique, to not be one, which by extension can be interpreted as ‘to be many,’ which again describes the imaginal grimoire’s state as it propagates itself across our reality.