Parting Shots
I had another one of those weird RC dreams last night, the first one since my ouster. Again, like the one from a few weeks ago, it took place in the country. It could almost have been the summer house. It's funny, each one of these dreams involves a big, sun drenched room with a huge bed with clean, freshly starched sheets. The dream starts off in one locale wherein I wave off to a small group of people, perhaps relatives, perhaps RCers. I literally retreat to the big bedded room whereupon I fall immediately to sleep (where'd the sun go?) I'm naked except for my whitie tighties (was that too much information?) And within moments I sense that there is another person in the bed. They snuggle up to me. They throw their leg over me in an insouciant moment and I immediately realize from the hair that it's a guy's leg. I never open my eyes from this point onward but, I'm 99% sure the leg belongs to Daniel. Then I hear or feel someone else's presence in the bed. This person is female and I'm pretty sure it's Leslie. Finally, I do open my eyes and Daniel and Leslie have disappeared and the bed is full of scantily clad women of all races and shapes and sizes. None of them are recognizable from real life (or, dream life, for that matter.) Needless to say, I awoke with a somewhat constricted chubby. I know. THAT was too much information!
INTERPRETATION:
Well, I think it's about feeling liberated. The bed is obviously the class. We meet/met in Daniel's bedroom--sprawled around on his bed. I think Daniel represents the old RC construct that was attempting to set limits on my sexuality. Leslie represented the more rational side of RC: softer, more feminine and understanding. And like Leslie, it tends to get smothered by the more ruthless and overbearing side of RC. Opening my eyes means what it says, the scales have fallen from my eyes and I now can see a world of diversity and plenty out there, beyond the class room. FWIW, that's what I think it means.
Up until last night, I had been worried by my lack of remorse around Monday night's events. Usually after a fight I feel lousy. The post-adrenaline high of combat is usually followed by a deep depression. But, this was different. I truly don't believe I had an adrenaline rush. I was perfectly calm throughout the Opening Circle. It was almost like a piece of Kabuki theater, Daniel had a part to recite and so did I. And after we both recited our parts, we bowed and said goodnight and that was it. I think, looking back on it, we both knew it was going to be a climactic night and we simply were playing out our parts.
Daniel could no more allow me to hang around as a constant reminder of his perpetrator status than I could abide constantly having to "remain counselor" for him without some help from outside. And Daniel has been scrupulous in making sure that no one else in class has the kind of nads it would take to actually intervene. Being an assistant teacher has got to be the worse kind of serfdom. I wouldn't be one if they offered it to me on a silver platter.
I keep trying to think, "Why was it so much harder this time?" Is it really the Intifada? 9/11 driving people crazy? partly. I think the other part is that RC has so much more competition than it once did. I mean, thirty years ago, just out of college, the idea of having regular access to thinking and caring people who were willing to travel across town to spend an hour or two with _just you_ was a very appealing and addictive proposition. Nowadays, people can do that by clicking on to a chat room. Why spend carfare to sit in a train underground for an hour and a half when there are people all over the planet willing to talk or exchange ideas about virtually anything at any time of the day? Now, that's addicting. And I know several RCers for whom that is their sort of closet addiction. Not pot. Not alcohol. Not food or caffeine. But, the Internet. Hey, Paul Bennett and I used to counsel on that very thing, first thing in the morning, every day, at work. Until the Men's Workshop.
Another big difference between RC today and 30 years ago is that, back then, all the big arguments were about theory. Nowadays, it's about "authority". That's a big difference. In a little less than 30 years we've gone from a community of peers to something resembling a rather large university English department where the squabbles are so intense because the stakes are so low. Maybe that's what 30 years of conservative hegemony have done to us. Rendered us irrelevant and perpetually hissy.
INTERPRETATION:
Well, I think it's about feeling liberated. The bed is obviously the class. We meet/met in Daniel's bedroom--sprawled around on his bed. I think Daniel represents the old RC construct that was attempting to set limits on my sexuality. Leslie represented the more rational side of RC: softer, more feminine and understanding. And like Leslie, it tends to get smothered by the more ruthless and overbearing side of RC. Opening my eyes means what it says, the scales have fallen from my eyes and I now can see a world of diversity and plenty out there, beyond the class room. FWIW, that's what I think it means.
Up until last night, I had been worried by my lack of remorse around Monday night's events. Usually after a fight I feel lousy. The post-adrenaline high of combat is usually followed by a deep depression. But, this was different. I truly don't believe I had an adrenaline rush. I was perfectly calm throughout the Opening Circle. It was almost like a piece of Kabuki theater, Daniel had a part to recite and so did I. And after we both recited our parts, we bowed and said goodnight and that was it. I think, looking back on it, we both knew it was going to be a climactic night and we simply were playing out our parts.
Daniel could no more allow me to hang around as a constant reminder of his perpetrator status than I could abide constantly having to "remain counselor" for him without some help from outside. And Daniel has been scrupulous in making sure that no one else in class has the kind of nads it would take to actually intervene. Being an assistant teacher has got to be the worse kind of serfdom. I wouldn't be one if they offered it to me on a silver platter.
I keep trying to think, "Why was it so much harder this time?" Is it really the Intifada? 9/11 driving people crazy? partly. I think the other part is that RC has so much more competition than it once did. I mean, thirty years ago, just out of college, the idea of having regular access to thinking and caring people who were willing to travel across town to spend an hour or two with _just you_ was a very appealing and addictive proposition. Nowadays, people can do that by clicking on to a chat room. Why spend carfare to sit in a train underground for an hour and a half when there are people all over the planet willing to talk or exchange ideas about virtually anything at any time of the day? Now, that's addicting. And I know several RCers for whom that is their sort of closet addiction. Not pot. Not alcohol. Not food or caffeine. But, the Internet. Hey, Paul Bennett and I used to counsel on that very thing, first thing in the morning, every day, at work. Until the Men's Workshop.
Another big difference between RC today and 30 years ago is that, back then, all the big arguments were about theory. Nowadays, it's about "authority". That's a big difference. In a little less than 30 years we've gone from a community of peers to something resembling a rather large university English department where the squabbles are so intense because the stakes are so low. Maybe that's what 30 years of conservative hegemony have done to us. Rendered us irrelevant and perpetually hissy.