The Fox's Secret

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve updated the site, in part because I’ve been unable to come up with a satisfying piece reflecting on the previous dream narrative in which the Fool returned for a fifth time in the past year.  So instead of continuing to spin my tires in the mud of that particular dream, I’ve decided to go ahead and post another.  This is a dream I had about a month ago, and I think it’s interesting on a number of levels.  It continues with the theme of religion and religious truth (and falsehood) and it also comes back to a central struggle of mine that increasingly revolves around the seeming futility of academic and or intellectual pursuits.  But now I’m interpreting before I’ve narrated the dream.  So without further ado, here is the dream in which I escape from a cult on a hill:

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In my previous entry, I described a dream in which I decided to take issue with an omnipotent being over the fate of my friend, Debbie.  Toward the end of the dream, I was about to face the presumably very painful consequences of that rebellious choice.  And yet, when I woke, even knowing that the rebels I had led into battle had been defeated, I still felt a great deal of pride over the choice I made.  And I would later realize that the dream itself signaled some big changes in my life and in the way I saw the world.

Does it sound strange to feel proud of oneself for actions taken in a dream?  Maybe it does.  But while I was dreaming, I did not know it was a dream.  I thought the world really had ended, and events really were playing out as described by the more fundamentalist interpreters of the Book of Revelation.  I knew that it was hopeless to rebel against an omnipotent being and that there was absolutely nothing in it for me if I chose not to accept the fact that my friend was going to be sent to hell.  But I stood up for her–and for my ideals–anyway.

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