mirror images —
with their robotic aping
— are exactly what
consciousness is not — we live
more dangerously than that

Well it’s another Monday morning, and I feel as if I am entering some kind of test zone again. Whatever skill this blog requires, both in terms of prose and poetry and honesty and self-reflection — however much it helps me discover my centre — I am thrown off balance all too easily by the ordinary stresses and repartee of the workplace in the job I go to once a week on Mondays. I dreamed last night of a ‘learning disability client’ (someone I have known for twenty years in the context of that job, and have a good relationship with). In the dream, she was embarking on her first ever job. What a huge challenge this was going to be for her! Clearly this dream supports the notion I’ve sometimes entertained, that I might have some kind of mild learning disability myself such as Asperger’s. This idea of myself arose in 2009 as a direct result of realising how badly I was responding to the ‘the ordinary stresses and repartee of the workplace’. Another dream last night involved a black man located behind a mirror that ran the length of one wall of the room I was in. I was fascinated to realise that he could see through the mirror from nextdoor into my room. It was like the kind of ‘two-way mirror’ I discovered was being used as part of the Family Therapy sessions I attended with my mother and sister in the nineties. The therapists were able to observe us, but we couldn’t see them. I hated it. But in the dream I could see the black man just as clearly as he could see me: so effectively it must have been just ordinary clear glass. The fact that in the dream it was a mirror, clearly points to the black man being me. He symbolises some unknown part of myself with a complete life of its own. If I am slightly autistic, I wonder if perhaps, as a generalisation, the lesson for an autistic person in ordinary life, is to let go of the expectation for other people to behave like mirror images of myself? — i.e. to possess only the same limited repertoire of movements/thoughts that I’m limited to myself? It sometimes feels like that.


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