I watched a documentary the other day called This So-Called Disaster: Sam Shepard Directs the Late Henry Moss. I wanted to see something of the man Moses has made a subconscious Mentor of. Didn’t want to see his movies because he is only an actor in them. No, I wanted to see the real person.
The documentary shows a man directing his own play. Nowhere in it does he ramble off large speeches. He listens more than anything. He watches. It would appear that Moses’ dream shaman was a creation all his own. I didn’t need a documentary to figure that one out. I did find the real man more interesting than the dream version.
But at least Moses has a mentor, real or make believe, an influence that focuses his life. Me? I am not really drawn to icons. I already have too many unattainable influences in my life. I prefer the real and the now.
Outside of Moses’ circle, I have one friend and one confidant. Friend? FBI Special Agent Jessica Abrams. Yes, Melanie you are correct. We have a friendship of sorts. I may be a professional responsibility to her but she has given me focus. At least in memory, I have no experience with a sister but that is how I think of Jessie. The older sister I may have had but will never know.
My confidant? My shrink. Yes. Therapy. That wasn’t hard to figure out either. Jessie set this up. Once a week I take a train into New York to see my therapist. Why New York and not someone local? Jessie thought I needed to get out of my home turf once in a while and this guy is a specialist in people who pop out of nowhere with no memories.
Why tell you all this? My therapist thinks it will be good for me. So I comply.
Sanity? I don’t dream like Moses but I see things differently – two worlds at once. I’m not sure which is the real and which the made up.
Mentors? Yes. One. Icons? None, except Moses himself. Demons? I face them once a week in New York.
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