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Dream 5-30-16

May 30, 2016

I was flying somewhere across the ocean, in a small private jet, with three friends, two men and a woman, L, whom I have known for a very long time and who is an avid Hillary supporter. The pilot was a woman. After flying over the water for quite a while, we made a stopover at a cluster of islands. The pilot brought the plane very low, like what used to be called (and maybe still is) “wave hopping.” She kept the flight very smooth and did a marvelous job of bringing the plane in for the landing, setting it down softly. I thought how nice it is to be traveling in a private plane.

[Typing this, it occurs to me that the pilot was my mother. Maybe. It’s a thought. And/or, of course, an archetypal image/imagining of a feminine element of myself, which I like and admire. It was also a kind of reconciliation with L, with whom I’ve had arguments over the nominating process, and whose friendship is more important to me, personally, than who is the better candidate for the presidency, which of course is very important. Probably it was also a relaxation into the prospect of a Hillary presidency, and a willingness to consider that she can do a good job.

This morning I read just the beginning of an article sent to me by H about one’s creativity being inhibited by being overly self-critical. As I understood one of the ideas, it is important to overinterpret the overdetermined, meaning that we should not stop with a single interpretation of an image—I think particularly a deep image. This certainly makes sense from the point of view of poetry. Novels. Dreams. Politics. Friendships. Self(s).  Oh, Sigmund, now look what you’ve done.]

From → dreams, Uncategorized

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