Jung

Someone once told me that I shouldn’t read Jung until after the age of 35. At the time, this made me rather cross, but now somehow I can see what he meant.

I have been reading a bit of Jung and a bit of Jungian stuff recently and it all does see rather different now. The stuff about moving from the morning of life through the noon of life and into the afternoon of life seems particularly relevant. Ah! the angst of the almost 40 year old. (Mind you, although I have stopped thinking of myself as nineteen, in my mind, I am still in my twenties. And slim).

Anyway reading Jung has prompted more than a passing interest in dreams. It struck me recently on waking that dreams are angels really – messengers from the unconscious to the conscious part of the self. Furthermore, that thought can be taken at a number of different levels. There is a whole existential cosmology to be built around that notion.

And no, before anyone asks, I am not going to be posting my dreams on the blog. Doubtless some people do, but not here.

Now, what do you want, talk about building an interior cosmology for the 21st century or descriptions of me putting eyecream on the cat?

Oh, you are so shallow.