In2It Health

Last night I drempt of a horse with its head held high, nervous and stirred up, moving down a steep hill with people who did not really know how to hold it.

Beside it was a badger.

Not a symbol in the sweet, polished sense.
A real force.
Low to the ground.
Relentless.
Ancient.
It came in close and then it bit me.

And it would not let go.

That was the moment in the dream that mattered most. Not the bite itself, but the decision that followed. I remember thinking, for one quick second, that maybe I should bite it back. Meet it on its own terms. Answer force with force in the same language.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Something rose in me first, and it wasn’t panic. It wasn’t even gut. It was strength. Mental first. A gathering. A knowing. A decision. And from that place I took its jaw in my hands and broke it.

That ended it.

When I woke up, what stayed with me wasn’t just the violence of that image. It was the meaning of the jaw. The bite. The mouth. The thing that clamps down and won’t release. The thing that carries the story, feeds the distortion, keeps hold through force and repetition.

That’s what struck me so deeply.

Sometimes the thing attacking us is not only the pain itself, but the story with teeth.
The twisted version.
The old distortion.
The thing that keeps biting long after the moment should have passed.
The mouth that keeps trying to define the field.

And sometimes healing is not soft.
Sometimes it is not surrender.
Sometimes it is not understanding everything into peace.

Sometimes it is the moment you decide the thing that has kept its teeth in you does not get to keep its mouth.

There is a kind of strength that comes before action.
A kind of inner rise.
A refusal.
A clean and ancient no.

That is what the dream felt like to me.

Not cruelty.
Not chaos.
Not revenge.

Protection.
Truth.
And the end of the bite.