Myths Forgotten by the Day

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“It occurs to me that the peculiarity of most things we think of as fragile is how tough they truly are. There were tricks we did with eggs, as children, to show how they were, in reality, tiny load-bearing marble halls; while the beat of the wings of a butterfly in the right place, we are told, can create a hurricane across an ocean. Hearts may break, but hearts are the toughest of muscles, able to pump for a lifetime, seventy times a minute, and scarcely falter along the way. Even dreams, the most delicate and intangible of things, can prove remarkable difficult to kill.”  ~ Neil Gaiman

“Nights through dreams tell the myths forgotten by the day.”  ~ Carl Jung

“Do I dare Disturb the universe?”  ~ T. S. Eliot

Wow: “myths forgotten by the day”. How cool is that, right? Actually it says a lot to me, most of which is unlanguagable. I’m kinda sorta all about dreams these days. One thing that has been missing for me is one of those . . . ummmm, what do you call it? . . . let’s call it an aspirational dreams. That’ll do. A “something” to achieve in the future. Something to beckon me forth. For a long time I have been of the view that you don’t need to consciously know what that dream entails, but my view is changing. In fact, just writing about it now, a significant shift occurred. Almost like a micro-satori. Please do not read this as whining, k? What I am seeing is that it is risky for someone like me, someone who must deal with PTSD and bipolar disorder (mine is type 2), to allow a dream such as this to get too amorphous. Both disorders are pretty much active at all times. Lately for me they have been a tad too active. So if I leave that dream in an amorphous state, the risk is that the rather insidious habitual thought patterns and tools of these disorders wouldn’t skip a beat in taking over and having their way with the dream. Believe you me, it has happened before. Many times. I won’t, can’t, whatever, call the results a nightmare. It’s just that it gets a Twilight Zone and X-Files vibe. Life then does not make sense, and that is because when the disorders give the orders rationality gets sent to the penalty box. Wow, did I just use a hockey analogy? You betcha. Anyway, what kind of dream do I want.? Do I know my life’s desire? By all indications I was born a writer. They just wouldn’t give me pencils for maybe two years. No, wait. Make that crayons. You can put your eye out with a pencil, right? Right. I ain’t so sure the dream, when it comes, will be romantic, although I would not resist that bundle of feelings. Truth is the romance thing just doesn’t strike the necessary tone right now. It might as well be a myth. At this time, moving forward, my vibes just don’t roll that way. So I guess I’ll just have to go with the writing, with the novel. But you can’t own a dream just by saying so. Sigh. I’ll get it right when I get it.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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