The World Is Bad

 I was going to received an award, finally get the recognition I deserve. I put on a dress. I was excited. I congregated in an area with others as speeches were made during a ceremony.  A woman, almost my doppelganger, asked me if I was wearing underwear and shorts beneath my dress. I immediately felt shame - but also anger. I felt cut down to size in half a second. Within the dream I became indignant. My mother was there. She was enraged with me. The woman kept asking me about my underthings. It felt like harassment. I hadn't written my speech yet. I was unprepared, as usual. I asked (!) if I could include the story of the woman in the speech. I was told it wouldn't be a good idea. I was told my women and (get this) a man I didn't even know. Why was he even there?

 You know how you look at a picture and it makes you feel something that you can't put your finger on? It happens when you're a kid. Of course you can't put your finger on it. You haven't yet begun to live. You don't have the vocabulary to articulate your feelings. As you get older you see a picture, have an experience, whatever, and it makes you think of something. You can't quite place it. Is it awe? Is it familiarity? We've experienced everything before, and we will experience it again. We will keep forgetting and forgetting. We do this literally in our own lifetime but also in the lives lived before this one and those after. Not quite reincarnation but maybe exactly that. It's like a VHS cassette. It's like mimeograph. Or those soft words in the background. Do you know what I am saying, even a little bit?