If I May
Joseph Campbell said that “Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths.” If I make my private myth a public dream is that another way of saying it only with an “if “at the beginning and so, If I may?
I walk along a boardwalk above the beach and the boardwalk is bleached white boards with bleached white-hot sand crunching under my feet and creeping up between my burning toes as I look down toward the icy, hot, blue water, and
I see a white haired but young, slim woman there wearing a really white black one-piece swimsuit. I leave the boardwalk and walk on the white-hot, white sand down to the young, white haired woman in the white black one-piece swimsuit
Where I pull out a kitchen knife, a good six-inch German made blade and begin stabbing her through her white black one-piece swimsuit and the blazing red hot blood splatters everywhere, all over the white black swimsuit, the white-hot white sand
Even up to the bleached white-hot boards of the boardwalk under the bleached white-hot sand which soaks it up. He knows that my beautiful, young wife in the black one-piece swimsuit loved the heat of the beach
And died three months ago in a day when her brain burst blood all over the inside of her skull and all over the beach of my private myth/public dream and states declaratively with a question, “Why are you stabbing yourself?”