Did anyone ever read Kerouac's Book of Dreams? Yeah, me neither. It's only a dream, Jack.
So you have to contend with your dreams on your own, unless you pay for a professional to listen. Does anyone do that any more? That Freudian or Jungian talk therapy seems to be out of favor & overwhelmed by the onslaught of drugs. Drug therapy. They have a drug for pretty much everything. Be careful not to mix your medicine. Synergistic action can be extremely deadly.
I figure I just have to figure out things on my own. Dreams: Attacked by Feral Cats? A surprise hair-cut? Spooky-looking, ominous, threatening fish swimming around in a pond, lurking, haunting? Car crashes and guns drawn, like lost episodes of Miami Vice. Reliving ancient fuckups & calamities, reliving idiocies & episodes of self-sabotage. I really have been my own worst enemy. It's been a long & winding road.
I have long-ago, left behind most of my most self-sabotaging habits. Decades of living clean. Living honestly. Living Creatively with heart, head & spirit aligned. The most dramatic or traumatic episodes in my life were all basically instances of self-destruction. Sure, I never killed anyone, just killed my own brain cells for kicks.
So yes, in the middle the night, quiet, alone, vulnerable, a worried mind. It all vanishes in the a.m. Even if I awake before the light of day, the coffee does it's work. All that hurly-burly and tumult just fades away & evaporates. Still there is a lingering wisp of uncertainty hanging over me. Maybe I'm not as together as I think? I suppose I have some unfinished business. Work to do on my self. Every day just trying to be, & to do better. Do my best to be my best, as an enthusiastic, fully-woke & fully-engaged Human Being. Alive, aware, awake. Damn the torpedoes. I mean, fuck...
