dreamed of pushing through thorns, wrestling a stretcher through. I elaborated on that. I added the tunneling, seeing animals passing
through brambles that way.
dreamed, in much more detail, of the addict’s suicide mission, and wished I hadn’t. But maybe that’s better, at least, than
having invented it. Which makes me have
to ask, what part of me is or was a suicide bomber, and what part of me thinks
that this could possibly answer anything?
But doesn’t perfectionism always, ultimately, demand self-destruction? Is it not a war—against oneself?
(and simultaneously, for dreams, like the elves, can say both no and yes,
trying to convey nuances beyond our habitual thoughts) I have found personally
that an effective answer to suicidal temptations is to ask, “What part of me
has to die?” Because that respects the
urgency of the feelings, while tempering their extremity. As I have often said, there is nothing so
true that exaggeration cannot make a lie of it; suicidal thoughts are lies that
sometimes fatally exaggerate the truth.
the truth here, the thing that had to die, found expression both in Tulipita
and the army that she fought: the “Death Before Dishonor” mentality that so
often drives suicidal thinking in the first place. Yes, it is good to be prepared to die rather
than give way to evil; we must always keep that in mind, should anyone hold a
gun to our heads to demand a wicked act (which does happen now and then, both
literally and figuratively.) But that is
not the same as dying for mere pride.
Better to die to pride and let
the rest of you keep on going, freed by humility.
followed intuition, meshed it with past and future dreams, and filled in the
parts with Jake and George, for they were in that building together for more
than a day, yet I have not dreamed precisely of what transpired.