Me apparently. Now I understand there is going to be a minority of educated peeps who regularly visit their night time muse and discourse via that ancient language. Because they can. I am not of them. I detested taking Latin in school and confounded attempts to make me regular or irregular with verbage, refused to consort with Hannibal and Hasdrubal despite the allure of elephants, and exited the class only with the ability to ‘tu, te, tui, tibi, te’ to rhythm courtesy of my doctors eccentric wife who brought a whole new dimension of dance into the conjugation theme. Saying that I do know that ‘Julia puella parva est’ tells me what anyone with eyes could determine – Julia is a small girl. Latin as a discipline was forced onto my curriculum by my mother, who had been denied the opportunity and believed it to be necessary in any right thinking girls armoury, which may have been the case in Montaigne’s time, whose father denied his son the use of any other language as he grew up. But times change. Move on – the thrust of my enquiry is why would I be dreaming Latin phrases? I awoke recently with the clear message of ‘Nosce te ipsum’ plastered all over my consciousness in the style of a Banksy’s graffiti. I knew I knew what it meant, but couldn’t recall – I had to resort to the husband, who resorted to the Google machine. Of course – Nosce te ipsum is ‘Know Thyself’ – now the nub of the real enquiry is why is my subconscious sending me this command? Is it thrust at me dagger like, suggesting I lack self awareness and something very dark and looming is about to reveal itself in my personality? Or is it somewhat self congratulatory , extolling the virtues of introspection and reflection which anyone who knows me will confirm I expound. I like neither scenario – self congratulation is about as welcome as self flagellation in my eyes, with less soreness. And I have lived a whole life like Henny Penny who clucked around her friends asking whether the sky was falling .
Despite the anxiety around whether my subconscious is alerting me to something I ought to know, I welcome this intrusion . ‘Know thyself’ seems a good mantra to me. Look at your virtues and examine your faults – try every moment you can to be the best version of yourself – this is what I take from the message. I fail, I pick myself up and I fail again, but in the attempt to understand my errors, my poor decisions, I end up making better ones. Everyone’s a winner. I have never regretted saying sorry. Sometimes I have not said it, or not soon enough and I have regretted that. I suppose saying sorry makes you vulnerable, shows a side that is less than perfect. I like that. I like that when I create something and something goes wrong, I always end up with creating something better in it’s stead. Always. And when someone says sorry to me, I tend to cut them some slack. That’s the way it works.
Nosce te ipsum.