Last night was a return, painfully, to Anxiety. I am
rerminded of Franny and Zooey;neglected, my first and second chakra felt
oppressed and Rebeled, yet the very act of writing about this seems to send
blood back to them.
The imagery
was almost entirely confined towards the first three charkas.
The dream ended with an obsessive
strain of thought from waking life The
crippling doubt as towhether one of the poetic forms of the ‘ Temptress’ poem
was, in fact,superior to the other.Of course, it is, and the unconscious only
meant to portray this neurotic self-doubt
objectively. The Doubt, in fact, is the result of mis-attributing the
source of my Mother’s doubt for my own.
Thinking that the Uncertainty
emanates from me,I ignore its presence in my surroundings.The doubt in question
is an almost pathological inability to trust Feeling ‘under the watchful,
Rational eye of my (grand)father.’
Parts of the dream leading upththis
ar mysterious. The dream was set in a city that had an almost kitsch aesthetic
to it.It was a kind of tourist town that seemed criminally intent upon aspiring
to nothing special, but definitely not in a Zen style.
There was one building that I
wandered into that I was not allowed
into. It appeared as a
kind of Asian restaurant, yetbehind the scenes, it was a gathering place
for a secret society. Sneakingaround the back, I waslike Guybrush
Threepwod in the kitchen in’the
Secret of Monkey Island’.
A chinese chef, borrowed precisely
from one of the owners of ‘ China Fun ‘ in
actual life,noted my presence suspiciously and withdrew into the kitchen
before I could feel impeled to justify myself.
At
one point,I became lucid. Either I was lucid
or the dream had me believe that
it was so.
At first,I did not know what to do with my
lucidity.I was primarily afraid of losing it. My very attempts to maintain what
little control I had over the dream obscured any Recollection of facts from conscious life, which would at least
have confidently affirmed the fact that
I was dreaming.It may be a test ament to the mysteriousness of dreams that neither
the conviction that they are ‘unreal’ nor (m)any of the conventional conscious attitudes
arise while the dream is in progress. Perhaps it is that what the conventionalmind
regards as ‘R eality’ is merely a fluke of Intent. This would suggest that our natural
goal in lifeis not to perfect consciousness buttobecome Lucid in both waking life
and Sleep.
At any rate, emotional maturity prevented
any fluke of Intent in this case. I remained Lucid,ambling about the city as if
to maintain Lucidity by walking.
Fairly Soon, I settled upon
a habitual fantasy.I tried to Will that the dream bring me Aisha ben Hassine,as
a sexual partner. I returned to the Asian restaurant. I ascended the tiny staircase
that led to the secret entrance.Passing through the room where I was originally
spotted, now desert-ed, I passed in through the kitchen to a bedroom on the second
floor of the building. I had already been there.
Aisha
was not there.I did not see her at all throughout the sourse of the dream.
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