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Taking the Pain
12 May 2017
Dream Blog - S.P. Somtow • Somtow Sucharitkul

I've had a strange and beautiful dream. I'm walking down a strange street that I don't recognize. In fact, I am lost, until I find a coffee house that I know very well but I haven't been to in a long time. When I walk in she says, The lady who runs it, she says "welcome we haven't seen you in a long time." I asked for a drink. I walk around the back and I see A room in the back that she's barricading off. She didn't have that room before I remember. And now she tells me that it's new. I look to my left and see an opening, or doorway into a green yard where people are sitting. 

That's new too, she tells me. But I'm not allowed to go into the yard or to the back room. I come back to the house — the main house. I find a place to sit and I drift away dreaming in my dream about something Egyptian.

When I woke up the fat man and a young at least younger, boy-man were looking down at me. The old man smiles and says I've been waiting for you to come back. You must help me. I have so much pain. I say, I'm not a healer. He says, but you always have.

He sits and I put my hand on his right foot. Which he crosses over his knee it's very strange, almost a flabby empty thing without any bones I put my hand on it. I feel something. He tells me the pain is burning in the pit of his stomach. I wonder why I must heal his feet. I put my hand over other parts of his body and finally over his left foot which he brings out and crosses over his knee is well. When I look up I see to other people kneeling with their arms in the air, flailing, murmuring prayers. I concentrate really really hard on this man's terrible pain and I start drawing it into myself.

When I'm done I start to leave but the boy man says no, you must heal me too. It's a bit awkward because he is suddenly very very small almost the size of a doll. He brings me a chair to sit on because he doesn't want me to be on the floor. Looking at him I think he is a child and I think he is a very old man. I put my hands over his head and again I begin to draw out some pain. Then I wake up.

I remember still, after going back to sleep and waking up again, the flabby-firm, almost silicone-like texture of the feet and strange folds of flesh ... also that the coffee house did not let me have coffee but gave me a coke. And the boy-man was sort of bald.

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