heart-attack-story-dream-surrender-heartcurrents



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The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.

—C. G. Jung

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Dream of Surrender

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The day after the operation and the placement of the stent, I dreamed:

I was on a peninsula called The Moulin Rouge.

It was wartime. I was hiding in a burned-out room. The enemy was advancing, and German troops were getting very near to where I was hiding; they were also about to discover my comrades. If I tried to warn my fellow soldiers, I would surely be killed; but if I didn’t do something, my friends would be killed.

I stood up and shouted at the Germans, expecting to die immediately. To my surprise, however, they just kept going, almost as if I wasn’t there.

This dream felt like a depiction of the battle in my heart, the moulin rouge, the “red windmill.” My internal landscape had been devastated. It was frightening to do so, but it was a relief for me to let go, to stop fighting, to surrender my self.

One of the problems that arises when stents are placed in the body is that the body treats them as foreign invaders and surrounds them with scar tissue. If enough scar tissue builds up, then the artery becomes blocked again. I hoped that this dream was a message that my body would not fight the invader, but would let it be.

As soon as I recovered enough strength to take short walks around San Francisco, I went with my ten-year-old son to see a new movie, X-Men, about mutant humans with special powers. In my weakened condition, I sure didn’t feel like I had any unusual powers; but, with a stainless-steel implant in my heart I did feel as if I had become some kind of mutant bionic creature.
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→ Chapter 4: The Cave

← Chapter 2: Premonitions from a Dream

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