"Love tells me I am everything; wisdom tells me I am nothing; In between the two, my life flows."

Poem

The Right to Dream

It is said that in sleep deprivation, it is not the lack of rest that takes its toll on us, but the build-up of psychic material and how, left unprocessed by the machinery of night, it seeps and creeps into our daily life with the weight of a heavy rain cloud, or burdensome repression. Our very integrity feels compromised when the “dreamer” is no longer invoked to mediate between myth and monster, fantasy and delusion, healing and wallowing.

There is a way in which dreams remind us – of the preciousness that is at stake in our castles in the sand – our soul’s connection with the earth, our creative impulse, and the unique center which feeds our intuition and vision. Dreams are like an über pure substance – a subtle sheath which both protects the mind and allows for its expression.

The right to dream, then, like the right to be seen and heard, to make love, and to laugh, is essential to our well being. The question is – can we tell the difference between dreaming and waking, feel their interpenetration as a divine melody, or are we blind to the consciousness that flows through both, like an arrow through the air?

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