It is often suggested that the elemental attribution of the city of Glasgow is “Water”. Geomantic practises that operate on the scale of the central belt of the country declare that, with its birth on the Molendinar Burn and subsequent growth over the River Clyde, Glasgow, in the West, represents Water. Airy Edinburgh, with its elevation and lofty castle atop the mountain lies in the East; Fiery Carluke with its coal mines lies in the South; Scottish Geomancers bicker over whether North is represented by Stirling (The Gateway to the Highlands), Aberdeen (The Granite City) or Falkirk (The Speckled Church). Much of Glasgow’s mysteries seem to grow out of the water. Glasgow itself has yet more esoteric associations which further develop its strange connection to water – its nine major water towers are often said to be symbolic of the planets, and the tower at Cranhill represents watery Neptune, which in astrological terms governs the mind, mystery, dreams, illusion, deception, the occult, isolation, and visionary experiences – in a sense, it is the planet most strongly associated with acolytes.
The Cranhill water tower looks bizarre – when it is lit up at night by the eerie colours from the lamps placed around it, the cuboidal tank with cylindrical legs suggest a colossal, cosmic fountain-temple, spilling over with sacred water. For many, gazing upon it its otherworldy appearance sometimes dregs up memories of something seen within their dreams, and they will readily attest to the feeling of some deep secret locked away inside.
To unlock this mystery, the acolyte must go to the tower at night – an act itself fraught with danger, since many unsavory types are attracted to the eerie allure of the tower – and fall asleep underneath it, at the feet of one of the harpy-like wireframe sculptures that stand as guardians around it. The tower acts as a kind of “sleep temple” common to Egyptian or Greek cultures, allowing the acolyte to gain insight in their dreams – and certainly, once asleep, the acolyte will dream. It is important to keep in mind that, should the dream become lucid at any point, the acolyte must “tell” their subconscious to allow them to talk to “The Man in the Tower”.
The acolyte will cut through their dream and find themselves in a tight, constricted room of complete and total darkness. Walking a few paces in any direction reveals metal walls, but no exits; the only other sensations are the sound of great, heaving breaths from an unknown source, and the trickle of water. A voice will penetrate the darkness, in between the heavy inhalations – somewhere in the room, beyond sight and touch, is a person who introduces themselves as “The Man in the Tower”.
He will first ask if They are there – to which you must answer “No”. Declare yourself as “An acolyte that seeks the truth”, and he will answer any questions you may have about the watery mysteries in the city, including the Necropolis Lake, the Lady Love Well and the Rain of Annunciation. However, you only have five minutes to ask your questions and have them answered; the room is slowly filling up with water, and the acolyte must wake themselves from their dream before it completely fills – those acolytes with little or no lucid dreaming experience go missing, the final impact of their lives nothing more than another tangy taste in the drinking water of the city.