I dreamed about a queen of darkness, a female Satan, the revelation of whom would’ve been too terrifying. The dream concealed her identity and appearance. I hope it wasn’t my mother. Who can tell good from evil anyway? I’ll never admit that my sister is righteous while Mom was wicked. And these are biblical distinctions after all. CBT cares nothing for black and white categories. The Church still uses them, unfortunately. It is not realistic to label life that way, nor useful. I must disabuse myself of Tim’s talk Wednesday. Remove myself from Christian terms and turf. For me, to consider heaven and hell is to approach psychosis. Dichotomous reasoning characterizes depression and schizophrenia. Meditate on gray, or on secondary colors: green and purple. When Tim brought up thoughtless hedonism as opposed to loving service, already he set up a dichotomy of wrong and right. How could I meet him on such terms? Yet my imagination flew with it. It made my mother execrable and Christians holy. Now I’m thinking that morality as a whole is disposable. And maybe this, paradoxically, would be right.


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