Carl Jung and the Shadow (Jack E. Othon)
(...) Have you ever said or done something really shitty, mostly on an impulse, that you later regretted? After the damage was done and the other person involved was hurt, you couldn’t bury your shame fast enough. “Why did I say that?” you might have asked yourself in frustration. It’s that “Why?” question that indicates the presence of a blind
He brought his hands up and said, I didn't know enough to dream you, Bree, but somehow you came true anyway. How did that happen? He rubbed his nose along mine, pausing and then pulling back again. Who read my mind and knew exactly what I wanted, even when I didn't?
I breathed out, smiling around the lump in my throat. I smiled against his lips and said, "I feel the same way. You're my dream too, Archer. Just as you are."
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shrestha (SHRES·thuh) noun When a dream comes true — but not for the dreamer.
Dreamers
youtu.be/yBz5vMI5i8E
Ooh lala, ooh lala
When you're going down I'll go down
Ooh lala, ooh lala
Together forever
Ooh lala, ooh lala
When you're going up I'll go up
As long as you're by my side
We'll make all dreams come true.
For at times such misery comes over me, such misery.... Because it begins to seem to me at such times that I am incapable of beginning a life in real life, because it has seemed to me that I have lost all touch, all instinct for the actual, the real; because at last I have cursed myself; because after my fantastic nights I have moments of returning sobriety, which are awful! Meanwhile, you hear the whirl and roar of the crowd in the vortex of life around you; you hear, you see, men living in reality; you see that life for them is not forbidden, that their life does not float away like a dream, like a vision; that their life is being eternally renewed, eternally youthful, and not one hour of it is the same as another; while fancy is so spiritless, monotonous to vulgarity and easily scared, the slave of shadows, of the idea, the slave of the first cloud that shrouds the sun, and overcasts with depression the true Petersburg heart so devoted to the sun—and what is fancy in depression!
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“What are your dreams, Archer?" I whispered, wanting to know what was in his heart. He looked at me for another couple beats and then pushed himself back onto his knees and pulled me up so that I was straddling his lap. I smiled at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, but pulling back to let him speak. He brought his hands up and said, “I didn't know enough to dream you, Bree, but somehow you came true anyway. How did that happen?” He rubbed his nose along mine, pausing and then pulling back again. “Who read my mind and knew exactly what I wanted, even when I didn't?“
