Mind, this is not to say that Dr. Sinclair does not deceive
himself, in his dreams and in his waking life. It is only to
say that his purpose in  attending to dreams is motivated
by  an  intention  to  learn,  as  well  as  unlearn. And  that
should  a psychologist want to join his purpose, as I have,
he  has need  of a  metaphor other than  the dream censor.
Thus, the dream poet; which, of course, may be  found to
have its  limitations,  too; which may in fact  be found  to
be  reciprocal  to  those of  the dream censor; but  that is
getting   ahead  of  ourselves,  except  it begs  the  useful
question   that   if  dreams  only  reflect   Man's  neurotic
capabilities,  why  have so  many creative persons—from
Freud   and   Picasso   through   Blake,   Newton,  Kepler,
Chaucer,  Dante, Macrobius  and down  to the  authors of
the Bible—courted them as they have?
     The   metaphor   of   the  dream  poet,  married  to  the
metaphor   of  the  dream  censor,  suggests  that  dreams
seek as they hide, reveal as they conceal, beautify as they
mystify,  play  as  they  work—much  as  the  marriage of
poetry  and  language  do. Not  that  the  dream  poet does
these things for  nothing. One  must learn how  to regard
one's dreams with taste, as with any other embrace of the
Muse.
     What  I  want to emphasize is  the compatibility of the
marriage.  If  one's  purpose  in  attending  a  dream  is  to
unlearn,  one  must  care  first  for  what  may  be  true. If
one's  purpose  in  attending a dream is to learn, one must
care  first  for what  is  interesting.  The  metaphor  of the
dream poet invites us to notice what is interesting.
     As  Alfred  North  Whitehead  (who  knew  something
about learning)  once noted:  "It  is more important that a
proposition   be   interesting   than   that  it  be  true.  The
importance   of   truth   is  that  it  adds  to  interest."  The
beauty of interest,  I  would add,  is that  it loves the truth.
And  so,  the motto  of our dream  reflection seminars is,
as Colleen said, "Yes, and what else?"
     I  may  say  that  as  a  result  of  asking  this  question,
Colleen continues  to use  memories  of her "Crossroads
Dream," and  her own  and others' reflections  on  it,  as a
private touchstone into her reading  of literature, thereby
broadening    her    vision    on   these   public   works   by
deepening their relevance to her private life.

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