Last night in my dream, the Gods touched my hair. I dreamt of an odd family, people important in my youth. They became tragic with many deaths in the family, alcoholism, relentless sadnesses. My hair parted as I slept and I saw the House of Atreus. And I woke to the long, reverbatory, mystic sadness that comes from the stars. And so I must go into the day with the tempus of the collective unconscious. As Carl Jung would say: “Better wear your good deodorant.”
Note to self: Carl Jung probably didn’t use deodorant. He was Swiss. The Swiss believe they do not stink.
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Off to the baths. Marat are you coming?
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“Show me a sane man and I will cure him for you.” (Carl Jung)
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