and once again the multipetaled flower (swirling lotus—that floats near the entrance of the unconscious).
At the entrance of that cave I will find the answer, if I dare go back and plunge through it into the grotto of light beyond.
Not yet! I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.
And as I start through the opening, I feel the pressure around me, propelling me in violent wavelike motions toward the mouth of the cave.
It's too small! I can't get through!
And suddenly I am hurled against the walls, again and again, and forced through the opening where the light threatens to burst my eyes.
Again, I know I will pierce the crust into that holy light. More than I can bear.
Pain as I have never known, and coldness, and nausea, and the great buzzing over my head flapping like a thousand wings.
I open my eyes, blinded by the intense light. And flail the air and tremble and scream.
I came out of it at the insistence of a hand shaking me roughly. Dr. Strauss.
"Thank God," he said, when I looked into his eyes. "You had me worried."
I shook my head. "I'm all right." "I think maybe that's all for today."
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