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Part 2 / Chapter Four ⥈ The Early 1990's

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The wild woman is fluent in the language of dreams, images, passion, and poetry – Çlarissa Pinkola Estés From my own journals Dream #1 I was in a car with a girlfriend, my son, and another person. Mom’s friend Allan was driving. We were on an expressway going very fast when a person appeared before us and fell backwards in front of the car, like sitting down. We drove over him and were dragging him along under the car. With horror, Allan was looking for a place to stop or pull over without causing a pile-up and us getting smushed, but the traffic was so heavy.   Finally, the car was at a roadside café, and Allan was dealing with the police, witnesses, etc. I tried to phone home, but no one answered. Then I phoned Mom, sobbing as I explained the horrifying event. I wanted her to come and get us. My girlfriend and I then went to a bank to get some cash, but no teller would accept my card until the very last one. I had to fill out a special form and pay $2.00. Suddenly, I rem...
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Part 2 / Chapter Three ⥈ The Power of the Gods

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  " I saw the angel in the marble and  carved until I set him free."  — Michelangelo      Dr. Ian Ballinger sat in the corner of his beige office in his unbuttoned white coat. His hands were frozen in mid-air as my mother, standing, shouted at my father.       "YOU don't have a clue. Do you know how she feels about this?"       Then she turned on one foot, stabbing her finger at the doctor. "YOU are not telling us the whole story. She's given you her answer."      "Calm down." my father said. "She's not improving; we're just trying to come up with a plan." The tension set an unusual high pitch to his voice.      This incited my mother even more. "We don’t need a PLAN. Karen has told us what she wants."      "LISTEN for once and SIT DOWN," my father ordered. "Let's give the doctor a chance."      Sitting on the edge of the chair, my mother glared at both of th...
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