When I awoke from a long, sober sleep on Friday, I remembered an enduring dream that I failed to write down. As a consequence, I forgot most of the details but I remembered the essence of it, the message it seemed to contain. Speaking in the dream around parents, friends, at work, I remember that every other word seemed to be “fuck.” The general message of the dream seemed to be that I was angry and that my denial, hatred, frustration and shame at being angry only served to intensify it, perpetuate it, feed its destructive nature. This was not an effective way of dealing with it, I somehow realized — and subsequently embodied that realization. I felt angry during the dream, then, but remained unashamed, in control and I felt awake and alive in a way that felt like Spring in a way, like a blossoming, like an exhale, the relieving off this inner pressure that’s been building.
It makes sense to my waking mind. As in meditation, getting angry at your anger or being afraid of your anger are means of dissociating from it, suppressing it, burying it or pushing it away and this only leads to an amplified form of the very thing you are trying to eliminate. When you are focusing on your breath and a thought emerges and you latch onto it and eventually realize it, if you get angry at yourself and start scolding yourself in side for getting distracted you are only prolonging the distraction. Instead, what I should be doing is accepting it as it is and dealing with it, not pushing it away. Don’t respond to it with itself, or with anything it all. Be aware of it, note it, experience it. It’s only way out of me is through me.