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Dream 1-8-16

January 8, 2016

I was washing my horse, by shampooing it and going over its body with my fingers, especially its neck, with an affectionate touch, to get it thoroughly clean. That was good for it, and it liked it. Afterward I stood beside it with my hand lightly on its shoulder, both of us looking ahead.

As I was waking up, I remembered the horse that I rode to the rim of the caldera of Sierra Negra in the Galápagos, with whom I developed such a good relationship (the horse, not the caldera). I can feel its shoulder under my palm.

These animals who come to us affectionately in our waking and sleeping life are important persons—thinking of Hillman’s remark that that best way to approach anything is to honor it with the dignity of personhood. These horses of my transport, memory, dream, writing, are all ensouled; and while it is important that I distinguish, to the degree and in the way appropriate, the factual horse from the fictive, they are all creatures of my imagination, as I am of theirs, and if I imagine them affectionately, healthfully, they second the emotion. I am honored by their constant presence.

This is good breathing (awake or asleep).

From → dreams, Uncategorized

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