Day 217: Old Baggage

Like this, but nude and in bag-form

Wake up haunted by last night's dream.  In which I have to carry around two rucksacks that aren't actually bags - they're two balled-up, naked old men, gurning and helpless, all white skin, dirt and patchy hair.  They each have a carrying handle at the back of their neck - like the one that rucksacks have at the top. 

I repeatedly forget that I have to carry them round with me, and then I am reminded when they start whinging.  They bang into my legs and slow me down, and they don't smell very nice...

It's a great relief to be awake, and to find that the old man bags have disappeared.  Like those dreams where you murder someone, and the massive weight that falls from your shoulders when you wake and find you haven't.  (Oh.  Just me?) 

I suppose I should give some thought to what the old man bags represent.  I suspect, as with most of these things, they are reflections of the bits of me that I dislike and would prefer to externalise/abandon in left luggage somewhere. 

I know what my meditation teacher would say.  She would say that I need to 'sit with' the old man bags, and show them compassion, rather than banishing them. 

Wonder if there's any chance of getting them to take a bath first?  And perhaps putting some clothes on?  Pants, at the very least...