In October 1982 I was struggling with environmental illness and working part time at the Stanford Library. I wrote my dreams every morning no matter what--even if that made me late for work and cost me money. My bosses and co-workers saw me as spacy, unaware of time, and sloppily dressed. After seeing John Belushi as "Samurai Optometrist" on Saturday Night Live, I dreamed I was... Samurai Librarian.
Stalk through glass doors
In the robe and sword.
At the clicking portal,
Show the feudal card.
Colleagues hiss and gossip
"What a slob he is!
Wearing a bathrobe to work--
Can't he even DRESS?"
Dreamwork does take samurai discipline. Dreams inevitably lead you on paths in conflict with undreamers' values. That's their job. And your discipline--the Samurai robe--looks to the undreamers like superstition and laziness--the bathrobe of a slob. Late for work because you had to write a DREAM? Doing what your DREAMS say? You mistake dreams for REALITY!
And so on.
And so on!
The Samurai returned in other dreams--as my guardian angel.
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