A
dream a few nights ago: I am searching for the office of a doctor on a large
campus with whom I have an appointment. Though I am quite lost, I keep getting
guided to it. His name is Eidelstein or something. I finally meet him outdoors:
aging, with grey hair, and his wife is with him. She touches a plant and gently
moves its leaves with her hand, and I get it at once: move as the wind moves
you.
It
is amazing how coherent this dream is when I write it down. It fits so snugly,
like the right piece of the puzzle, in my new reformatting of the self. This
doctor and his wife, with their important message, will cure me. Though I am
lost, I am guided. I do not meet them in a stuffy office, but outdoors, which
is becoming a passion: nothing strenuous or far away, though a short evening
hike up our usual road is marvelous exercise and soulful, and right outside the
front door.
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