Dreamworks

Likely one of the reasons I took to psychoanalysis like a duck to water is how much I have always loved dreams.   Dreamwork is productive, even if it is only great grand entertainment.

This morning's was a doozy, if the bearer of some humbling insights.  I don't mention Claudette very often but she is the guardian of my tender spots.  Usually rambunctious in the mornings with much running about, tail bushed,  she seemed to understand the work of the dreams going on today.  When I roused, still at the midway point to consciousness, she like a feather landed herself on the bed and curled close in the depression under my chin; quiet purrs.

Someone once made the observation that depression is the place where something once was. The work of my dream was to remind me that love and trust of another is a gift. It is not the missing part. Treating it as an owned commodity is to abuse love.

Tangentially; also came the lesson that to numb oneself or ignore feelings of others is not only anti-social but can be catastrophic.  (I have a short story in the mill that I now think I will complete and share in the next few days.)

Love and good fortune to all in your life ventures this coming week.