The Black Monk
I am confined, along with 2 other male companions, by bad guys in a detention area. We are lying on narrow tables in the large, brightly lit room. The bad guys have already killed one of us. I see him lying on his side on a nearby table, looking very peaceful, more like he is sleeping than dead. His appearance is quite striking. He looks like a black monk. Every detail of his costume, skin, hair and features is a deep, satiny black, like waxed ebony, and his dress and aspect is that of a monk.
Two of us are still alive, lying on our backs on the narrow tables. The head bad guy walks over to my remaining companion and informs him that he is next to die. He stands over him and aims a tremendous blow, resembling a karate chop, at his solar plexus. My companion, thinking fast, deflects the blow with his arm, leaps to his feet and runs out of the building into the surrounding city. When he does so, I run out after him thinking I need to help him, but I fail to catch up with him. I am tracking him visually, but in a blink, I lose sight of him and do not see him again.
Interpretation: At first, I didn’t know what to make of this dream, other than I’ve felt threatened by a reoccurrence of my depression lately, in the context of preparing to appear on TV, but Alex had a more interesting idea: The bad guy could be a healer in disguise, about to strike the solar plexus, the power center. So these “bad guys” are trying to awaken my power, and I feel threatened by this, and want to escape. Part of me wants to stay small, remain in my comfort zone, and not grow into new levels of awakeness and therefore involvement, which is Responsibility, a word my parents ruined for me, to the point where I rejected it wholesale. They were in denial about my PTSD and depression, and continually blamed me for my failure to thrive. Small wonder I got sick of hearing about Responsibility. Now, as I seek to take full responsibility for my creative gift, the old demons make another appearance as healers.