The unconscious is a powerful thing, everyone knows that. Or at least everyone who doesn’t get tripped up by their own shoelace. Still, I forget how much smarter my unconscious is than my regular self.
Also how much more of a trickster.
Certainly when it comes to my romantic life, my unconscious bests my conscious (and conscience) every time. I can ignore what the tarot is trying to tell me–or, worse, respin it to match my most piteous impulses. I can ignore my friends’ two cents. But for me wish fulfillment is only a fancy of the waking mind. I’ve yet to bullshit myself while dreaming.
My dreams always tell me when beaus are stepping out.
My dreams never fool me about who is attractive or attracted to me.
My dreams are harsh but o lord I can trust them.
There are men I broke up with decades ago whom I still bed in dreams. There are, of course, women, too. Sometimes sexual chemistry has an extraordinary shelf life. Other times it does not. Continue Reading →