Last night’s dream revealed the core.
In the dream, I am ferrying my family around and we’ve arrived at our destination, which is up a flight of stairs covered in red carpet, to a higher deck, where business transactions can be done.
But my family turn on me. And that’s the weird thing. The sudden right wing attack.
Actually, it was my mother. She was trying to get us all aligned to a Christian ideology that she had suddenly embraced most fervently, but in a stealthy and coldly-planned manner. There’s some kind of meeting taking place on the level just below the one I’m on and I’m descending the escalator now. She’s busy on another level, behind a pane of glass, where there are TV camera and sets running all along the top of the ceiling, along the center, and men wearing their banking suits.
I was carrying a small bag of popcorn. I entered the plush room (much like a casino in flamboyance) and my mother said to me that I had no right to speak anymore because “age and authority” come first. She gestured to a fresh faced man in an expensive, dark suit. I pointed out that he was obviously younger than I. But she insisted that he had much more authority as he could “take down banks”.
At that point, I leant over from where I was standing on the escalator and I threw my bag of popcorn into the ceiling fans in the room where she was. The fragmented residue of popcorn pieces, severed in the fans as in an liquidizer, hung in the air, in front of the TV cameras. They were the glorious fragments of my demise.
She said, “Why did you do that?” I said, “Ask him!” pointing to the banker. “He has authority, not me”. And the popcorn dust hung in the air.
Then I walked away, feeling ashamed of the reality I had found myself in, and hurt to the core.
That dream almost perfectly replicates the circumstance I found myself in as a teenager. I had to get ready for school, but my youngest brother was blocking the mirror in the bathroom and biding his time. I exerted my authority as the elder child, but he shouted me down. I went to my mother to resolve the issue, but she had transferred all her trust to my brother, and backed his authority to take up the space.
I will say it very clearly, that I have only ever once lost control of my behaviour in my whole life and it was in this instance. I picked up a full bottle of chutney from the breakfast table and slammed it into the ground as hard as a I could. It fragmented into a million pieces.
I really do not like right-wing misogyny or Christianity and the whole of my shamanism has been a means to combat the damage this system has already wreaked in my psyche. The psychological numbing that I occasionally have experienced has come from this. I try to draw myself down deeper into my psyche through varoius methods, but last night I went the deepest ever, in terms of self-knowledge.