From my journal, July 25, 1986, A.D.:
Another disturbing dream. . .
We came in our yacht, unto an island, small and pleasant. Other islands lay beyond. This was our glory. We came unto an island at the bottom of the earth. It was warm, it was wet, it was so wonderful! Many people came and converged upon that island. We had bubbly bubbly champagne. and herbs of wild and rich aromas. And opium that smelled like grape bubble gum. Tropica - oh, tropical dream! Where freedom lies! Where comfort lies! Oh, land so small! Oh, sun so near! How can it be so good? No drug can last forever! No sleep can be eternal! Aye! - there's the rub! For in this sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil must give us pause. . . That undiscovered country from who's born, no traveler returns, puzzles the will. . .
Suicide. Suicide, suicide, suicide. Why? I fear death. But suicide, I find very sweet, indeed.
I have wondered for quite some time, now, what the vision is and whether or not it is such a good thing. It feels very evil. It makes me dream of death so fearsome that I am afraid of life. It wants me with it inside the world of dreams. It hates me for having fallen in love. It doesn't want to be shared with anyone or anything. It hates my world of reality.
And I can't help thinking that it was the drugs. They brought me to the vision - each time stronger. They showed me the incredible shakiness of reality. And ever since the mushrooms, I have been sure that I am possessed.
I am very frightened. I'm so frightened that I would plead with myself to become a Christian. But my faith is only in myself. My fear is strong. I must fight, fight for my life!
This isn't the first time. But the fear is more real than anything I've ever felt before.
I HAVE ALWAYS TRUSTED THE VISION. I don't want to abandon it for sanity or for love or for happiness. BUT FOR MY LIFE, I have to fight it if I'm going to keep it. If I love A., I will fight it.
It will show me what it showed Dali, Hesse, Pirsig, Plath, Burroughs, Escher, Lennon and Waters.
Ahead for me is to find out if I can leash the monster for my own purposes - or if it will kill me like it killed the women poets. Perhaps the vision is particularly harsh on women.
If I can only remember one thing: I AM NOT ALONE.
A. and I have to bring each other higher - I don't know how, but we must be, feel, do so much more. We must love everything. We must love so strongly that the only path is up. No hate. No hate at all.
I MUST HANDLE THIS VISION. IT WILL NOT BE SO HARSH ON ME.
- Sharon
Next entry, Aug. 13, 1986, A.D.
[based on another dream]
I killed it, Babe. I won't go to bed crying. It was only a spider - only a spider, with a belly full of poison. I killed it, Babe. It was nothing at all. And now, all I've got is hindsight and an analytical mind.
- Sharon
