The influence and under pressure from the European lifestyle

I returned to Tunisia full of thoughts and impressions. On the night before sailing
in Marseille I had a dream in which, as I expected, everything made
a completed form. Surprising I don't find, because I taught
to exist simultaneously on two levels -
conscious, when I want and not able to understand anything, and unconscious,
when I know something, but only as in a dream.
 I dreamt that I was in some Arab city, and there, as in
many Arab cities, there is a fortress and a citadel, the Kasbah.
The town was located amidst fields and surrounded by a wall, which surrounded him with
four sides, each side had a gate.
 The Kasbah of the inner city was surrounded by a wide moat (which there is not
accepted). I stood at the wooden bridge leading into the dark archway: we were
gate, and they were open. I really wanted to get inside, and I stepped
on the bridge. But as soon as I reached the middle, separated from the gate beautiful
black Arab he was regally good, this young man in a white burnus. I
knew it was Prince and that he lives here. As he approached, he suddenly jumped
for me, trying to knock down. A struggle ensued. We power hit
the railing, they gave in and we both flew into the ditch, where an Arab tried to load
my head in the water. "Well, this is too much",  I thought, and grabbed him by the neck.
I was not left with a feeling of deep admiration for this young man, but I couldn
to allow ourselves to kill and to kill him is not going to. I had only,
he lost consciousness and stopped fighting.
 Suddenly the scenery changed, and we were in a large octagonal
the vaulted room - the white room, where everything was simple and good. Along
light marble walls stood low divans, and before me was reclining on
open book with black letters that are extremely nicely looked on
milky-white parchment. It was not Arab  the manuscript, she rather
like the Uyghur text, familiar to me from the Manichaean fragments
Turfan. I didn't know what it was about, but I have a feeling that it was
my book, if I wrote it myself. The young Prince, whom we have recently
wrestled, sat on the floor, to my right. I tried to explain to him that
now, after I took the better of him, he needs to read this book.
The Prince objected. Then I hugged his shoulders and, so to say, with fatherly
persistence was forced to read it. I was convinced that it was necessary, and in
eventually he gave in.
 In the dream of Arab youth was double that of a proud Arab,
who drove past us with their heads bowed. As an inhabitant of the Kasbah, this
the character embodied self, but rather, was the messenger and representative of the self.
The Kasbah, from which he came, was a perfect mandala
(citadel, surrounded on four sides wall with a gate on each
side). How we fought against it, reminiscent of Jacob wrestling with the angel;
if we draw a parallel with the Bible - he was the angel of the Lord, the messenger
God wished to punish a person for not knowing.
 Angel, in fact, was supposed to "dwell" in me, but he knew only
angels and didn't understand anything about humans, so he initially attacked me as
the enemy, however I persevered. In the second part of the dream I became the owner of
the citadel, and the angel was sitting at my feet, he had to learn to understand me,
to understand human nature.
 Familiarity with Arab culture literally crushed me. These
people living in the power of feelings and passions, not prone to long
reflection, in the main for myself was based on the historical levels
unconscious that we ourselves have overcome or think that I have overcome.
It's like the children's Paradise, from we separated, but which at any
opportunity reminds himself. Indeed, our faith in progress conceals
the deepest danger: indulging in increasingly illusory dreams of the future,
our consciousness is inevitably immersed in its past state.
 But it is also true that childhood - which, because of their naivety, there is little
aware of himself - is able to create the perfect image of a complete and
self-sufficient person in all its uniqueness. Therefore a child's view
and primitive man could evoke in an adult and civilized
one some melancholy, some desires, aspirations and needs, previously
unclaimed peculiar to the part of the personality that was suppressed,
jammed, trapped inside.
 I traveled to Africa, trying to find something that in some
the meaning lies on the other side of European consciousness. Subconsciously I
wanted to find that part of his personality, which is avoided under
the influence and under pressure from the European lifestyle. It is this part,
unconsciously resists my attempt to stifle it. In accordance with
by its nature it tends to put me in unconscious (to pull under
water) and thus to ruin, but thanks to his knowledge I am able
to understand and identify able to find a mutually acceptable modus vivendi.
Dark skin Arab indicates that he is a "shadow", but not my
the conscious "I", and to a greater extent ethnic, that is, the shadow of some
integrity, part of my identity, my self. As the owner of the Kasbah, this
the Arab was a shadow of my self. A European lives in accord with their ratio,
thus rejecting most of the human manifestations, and thinks it's for
fortunately, not noticing that it is achieved at the cost of life in all its fullness, price
self - the loss of her integrity.