Saturday, September 18, 2010
DREAM: I am with A. in public, we are a couple but I do not allow myself to show as much of my affection for him as I feel. He looks pretty serious too and wears something like a trench coat. I touched his leg at one point and it was like steel cables under his pantleg, as if there was no flesh, just a hardness that will not give in at all...
DREAMWORK:
Here is a side of my masculine that is still undercover, hidden from me, the face of cold, impersonal, aloofness. Yet I know it is just a cover-up, that underneath is a badly hurt but passionate heart, an exuberant spirit which dared to plunge into love, and gave unstintingly. Under this cloak of dark mystery, he is hiding an even darker truth: malice, jealousy, and vengeance, hatred hardened into unyielding indifference. Where in me is this part of myself? I want very much to love him, but I cannot reach him.
It is a dead part in me, and I cannot bring it back to life. I can only let it go. Yet I cling to it... Why? Because I still love the grim melancholic dark knight in pain of my own projection, because the feminine in me still harbours her not-so-secret desire to ‘fix’ him, to melt him with her love, to change him, for this will be her power over him. Ah, it is my narcissism.
How do I let go of it then? My body tells me that I have to shatter the image, but I do not feel that I can. I’m afraid it’ll hurt too much, as if it is a piece of my flesh I have to excise. I suppose it is, but knowing that does not lessen the fear. I suppose too, that I do not really understand why I have to lose him, he still feels so real to me.
Why this attachement then? Because what I need to do with a projection is to reel it back into myself, from which it was displaced long ago, when I needed someone to love. But that was a projection too, when I stopped loving myself. So if I bring him back into myself, will I love myself then? Yes.
Something still resists in me, for I love seeing the image of him, tantalizingly out of reach. What is in this gap between us that feels so full of dark meaning to me, a melting pot of pain and pleasure like molten bittersweet chocolate, an aphrodisiac to me (I had no idea this is in me!)
I feel like I am standing in a hall of mirrors, panic and frustration rising... don’t know what to do... my body is refusing to help me for some reason, a condition I have not met...
Omigod I have not surrendered to my body! So caught up in this sticky, messy web. I surrender to you now, my body, I shall be quiet and empty and wait...
I see myself as a young man wielding a sledgehammer. He is shirtless, in khaki shorts and boots, a bandana ‘hat’ on his head. He begins to swing the hammer into the mirrors, with just enough force to bring them down. His boots crunching on the glittering shards as he moves on to the next one, until none is left standing.
It is a bit hard to believe, even for me, but that compelling attraction that tied me to the image of my dark knight is not there anymore. His face seems very small and far away, and I don’t feel like recalling it anyway. It is turning away and there is just the dark space of distance.
I had no idea I was so spellbound, although the story of Narcissus should have clued me in, but as they say, you can’t see yourself. And as was foretold in that story, looking in a reflective surface only made it worse, fatally so.
But it is not over, my body informs me, there’s the young man to consider now. He is the much purer energy liberated from all that cover-up, and he’s ready to do some work. Arms akimbo, feet planted, he’s just waiting for instructions, but I’ll let my body be the instructor, and I’ll rest for now...
P.S. Actually I just had a glimpse of him taking the sledgehammer to a concrete foundation, and I just can’t watch anymore...
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