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10996a dream for Karta, on resisting emotions?

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  • Nina
    Sep 30, 2003
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      Hello, Karta, I have read your posts, and other posts about emotion,
      I have talked to a friend about dreams of disaster (specifically, her
      own disasters as related to water), and have associated water with
      emotive and creative energy. So, rather than reply to your posts in
      the typical manner, instead I will share a portion of a dream I had
      last night. You might try imagining that it is "your" dream, as well,
      and what this dream might represent for you.

      We have gathered for a competition along the edges of a rocky basin.
      I am not a competitor, but have an organizing role in the event. My
      parents stand with many others on the far edge of the basin, watching
      and idly waiting for the competition to begin. I stand on a raw earth
      ramp into the basin with several of the barely-clad competitors. One
      of them, a man, pulls a small stone from the wall of the basin with
      his toes. The stone comes free with a cork-popping noise and a
      trickle of incredibly clear water. The water begins to flow from the
      cracks between adjacent stones, and the flow becomes a torrent. I am
      running down the ramp and across the broad basin, as it fills with
      water. Even though the water is pure and clear, I am filled with fear
      and the thought that I must get away. The water is rising as I
      scramble up the sheer face of the far wall of the basin, reaching up
      at the last minute for hands to pull me over the edge into the crowd.
      I explain to my parents that we must run to retrieve our things from
      our fourth floor room before the basin fills and the weight of the
      water cracks this floor, the sixth floor, sending it crashing down
      through the building. We run, trying to find out way, but we are
      lost... then I am lost with strangers... in a shopping mall, on a
      people-mover on the streets of an amalgam of Los Angeles and Las
      Vegas, then in a hotel district full of dark, cartoonish Venturi-
      Scott-Brown buildings, surrounded by a lagoon... I am still trying
      desperately to make my way back, willing the people-mover to take me
      faster... but now I am hopelessly lost in the city of gangs, I am
      latino, I am a man, and I am standing in the courtyard of a Mexican
      restaurant, and a man is proposing to me from the side of a fountain.
      The water is so clear and pure. I cannot accept his proposal, it
      sickens me; then we are both in the water, and as it conceals us from
      the ears of others, I yell through the water, which displays the
      force of my words by rippling and waving, "I am not that! I do not
      want that!" We are out of the water, he is telling me I cannot deny
      it, and points to a stack of plastic-bottles filled with very clear
      water wrapped in plastic. I look. The brand says: Emitalittle,
      Emotelite, Emetalyte, the letters bend.

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