The Dream
Herb school
I was with my son.
He was upset —
someone had excluded him.
I found the woman
nestled with her daughter.
I struck her,
and threatened her:
“If she does that again,
she’ll never forget it.”
“How do you think he feels?
How would you feel
if I did that to yours?
The world’s shit enough
without this too.”
She apologised,
thanked me.
I shouted to her
in the distance:
“How I do things
isn’t always great —
but I’m trying
to do
the right thing.”
The Meaning
hitting the woman
My instinct to protect is clean.
But my execution? Messy.
I acted from truth, but with force. And I know it.
I don’t defend
I confess
I make a commitment
I showed up flawed, and still chose protection over politeness.
What Lingers…
What if doing the right thing doesn’t always look good?
What if protection costs clarity—but still matters more than politeness?
Marginalia
This is the last in a series of dreams set in my new learning environment, which I begin in a few weeks. What’s surprising is that this dream is the most raw and confronting in the series.
In Incense Blocks & Period Costumes, I weigh old ways against new.
In Fireweed and Bunny Munro, I’m lost but eager to learn.
In Competence vs. Compassion, profiled by my tutors, I revisit old wounds.
In I Was Late, Afterall, I abandon my own needs for accountability.
Here, I’m left to acknowledge my shadow as I lash out in defence of my son. My dream shows me: I am a flawed human.
I will always be.
Just like everyone else.
The belief that we stand above animal instinct is revealed as a fragile illusion.
