DREAM TWO.
The dream was full of angst. Its culmination was on
the San Diego State campus. I had an encounter with a female sociopath. It was
one of the most lurid and accurate dreams that I’ve had of late. I awoke
feeling threatened. I am reminded that I never wanted to be a Fascist, but that
I was only trying to fight it. I continue to fight it, but in my own way,
asserting only what I need and dismissing what others “want”, refusing to have
my own needs trivialized as wants. Trusting my intuition in this respect and
refusing to be disrespected: this is masculinity.
The weather was overcast. I recall the Parking Lot
where I met Danny I.A.L. I wonder if he was easily seduced by her. What does
that say of people of his sign?
Trauma pervaded the warlike scene. It’s hard to
remember any thing else. The classrooms were like Hospital rooms in their
austerity. I felt as though I’d been raised my entire life to fight a battle. I
was a pig for the slaughter. I was Harry Potter. And I am reminded that J.K.
Rowling has my house placement: a lost childhood, raised to fight the Good
Fight without any real choice but to grow up quickly and then to adapt the
Adult World to the image given in Childhood. Even a victory is but the
conclusion of a tragedy.
Dm.A.A.
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