woke up in tears this morning. which is always a surprise. I had been POV in my dream (point of view--shot in film), which tends towards the loss of ego, as I wasn't watching myself; i just was, you know? Anyways, I was in a waiting room of some kind with my mom, sister, and surprisingly my dad (at the same time it isn't a surprise because the only times I see my dad anymore are when I'm in waiting rooms, and usually at the dentists). I wasn't at the dentists, but I don't really know what happened before. We were engaging in a banter-type conversation with another family whose son was a little embarasses by his father's military lingo. I guess his dad was an army native. I think there was another family that was wealthy, or that talked alot about themselves, but that banter was just a fog. I don't know what we were doing on that coutch in the waiting room, but I was sitting very comfortably and contentedly in my fathers lap, and he was sending me a feeling like love, and stroking my hair. This pushed me to tears, but not bad tears. Just love. LOVE. I don't know much about the subtext of the word, but I have started to feel it, or recognize the feel of it more often now. It was nice to see my dad.PEACE - Tristan
PS - I'm not sure what the analysis would be. The father archetype is a strong one to have come up, I think, and the fact that there was no animosity, and even a deeper level of communication below the banter of the waiting room, would seem to suggest nothing but goodness, but I'm not a Jungian analyist, just interested in those areas of our lives. Dream city.
before || after
