A woman shows me a transparent plastic egg. There's a figure inside the egg: me. She explains "This is your diagnostic psycho-egg."

From the waist up, the plastic is clear. This represents the conscious: what I can acknowledge. The lower half is still fairly transparent, but dark, like smoky obsidian or Apache Tears: my unconscious! All I won't or can't see.

She says quietly "It's rare to see someone so neatly stratified into shadow and light hemispheres."

I feel a rush of shame. It's true. I shove ALL I don't like into the unconscious realm. If it scares me, I ignore it. Even if I like a thing, but judge it bad or selfish, down it goes.

I'm helpless to deal with anything scary, because I can't or won't even THINK of it consciously!

This, I realize, is the cause of most of my problems.

And wake.

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