Stream of Consciousness

My House
The therapist asked me to close my eyes and imagine a house. He was an intelligent man, albeit smug. While I found his personality wanting, I respected his learning, so I obliged. This was an exercise in “active imagination”. A concept made psychological canon by Carl Jung, but more likely a way for him to fill the hour of my therapy. Perhaps though there would be meaning in this vision of my house and its landscape. Even more telling, you may find, would be the home’s simplistic furnishings and its single secret room.
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The Ghost in My Reflection
𝘐 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦—𝘜𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘐 𝘚𝘢𝘸 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘈𝘵 𝘔𝘦 It happened on a night when everything felt too heavy to carry.
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