The Dragon

In my living room. We had to sedate it. One of the bears was trying to move a Fabergé Egg out of harm's way and the dragon thought it was hers. It was heavy and difficult to squeeze out the front door. It was my anger. I knew I couldn't manifest my dragon at work, so I had to dispose of it in my dream. This is really what my anger feels like to me. One has to understand oneself. I painted a sleeping dragon with a smile on its face in the mural on my children's bedroom wall when they were first born. Later, we had to tape a piece of paper over it because one of the twins was scared of it. Interesting context now huh?
If you haven't, at some point you need to read psychology- not that textbook stuff they teach you in college, the real stuff: Freud, Jung, Otto Rank, Adler, Fritz Perls, Havelock Ellis, then Confucius & Plato & Socrates and Watts on Zen, throw in Nietzsche and Aristotle, a few poets maybe -Gary Snyder & Ezra Pound AND then hang out for a few years with the idiots that want to analysis every minute particle of being in a framework of one of those guys I just mentioned. Then you're ready to delve into Barthes and Langer and Empson. Avoid economic theory- that has nothing to do with anything. Words in particular are fun house mirrors. The symbolism of "The" is endless. If you then have the guts, you can begin to write. And maybe someday, you might understand yourself.