Dreamed 1980/6/1 by Chris Wayan
I'm locked in a fight with a pushy man made of wet clay. Cut and tear his flesh over and over. I get so I can beat him consistently, but his clay flesh just keeps reforming. I have to spend all my time at it, must always be on guard.
At last I think: "If I turn around, he won't be resisting me but supporting me, pushing me forward. And with soft clay arms, he'll mold to my back and massage it, relaxing my tension!"
NOTE IN THE MORNING
I think the clay man is my fear. I'm a nervous creature, and I've tried hard to suppress my fears. Only temporarily!
But what I'm wrong about them? If I took all my fears seriously--treated them as legitimate inner objections? If I lean INTO them, instead of suppressing them... might they actually turn out to be a kind of support?
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