I read this article yesterday: The rise of American authoritarianism.
I ask for a dream about loving and being loved before going to sleep.
I dream of a prison. I am there as a consultant. There is a woman there, younger than me and beautiful, and the men want to know how to get her out of the prison. It has thick walls and iron bars and security exits and alarms. It is clean, modern, bare, and smells worse than a hospital. But it is the men who run the prison and work in it who want to know how to get her out. How to rehabilitate her. She does not listen to or obey their instructions.
They will not let me talk to the woman or go in the cell with her. They hand me a tablet, where I can see her live. As soon as I have the tablet, I know that she is not trapped in the prison. I turn the tablet around slowly, so the image is upside down. Light appears in the center of the tablet. She can leave any time she wants and she frequently is gone. She walks into the light. The connection is with her all the time. I am so glad that she can walk into the light.
I do not tell the men. They built the prison. They are in the prison, though they think that they are keeping her there. The prison is built of what they think should happen, their authority, their rules.
I am sorry for the men, but they would not believe me even if I told them. I have tried many times.
They don’t see that they are the ones who are in prison.
I give the tablet back.
I wake up.
I took the picture in the sunrise mist in 2006, Lake Matinenda, Ontario, Canada.