I slept tolerably well. Restless, but no major traumatic emergences. I spent some time dreaming the inner emotional reality of my marriage, and part of my time being in high school, trying to decide what to do with my life. I could be a painter, or an engineer. A doctor or a lawyer. Or I could found a religion. What? some voice inside me said. That isn’t a thing. That’s not one of the categories. There’s no box for that.
Well, I said, it could be looked at as artwork. Most art is largely useless, so if I’m wasting my time, there is a precedent. It seemed to be OK with that.
And I spent a lot of time dealing with what I will call “emotion shapes”, things which had visible appearances and corresponding emotional tones, but which I could not name. When you are dealing with unconscious forces they can hide behind X and Y. You know there is a quantity/quality of some sort, but you can’t solve for it. You can merely watch the math being done.
Overall, compared to how I imagine normal sleep for most emotionally healthy people, I’d give it a B-, which is quite good. I’m mostly F’s.