(06/21/97)["Hurting Myself."] I am in a log cabin and outside is a big burly bear throwing himself against the cabin wall, trying to break in and get us. A man, maybe my brother Jake is standing near the door, a screen door, trying to shut it against the bear. Now I am crying, because I must spread melted butter on my left hand. I think that ritual is because I must spread the butter on someone and I am unwilling to hurt someone else so I am forced to do it to myself. I resist but I must do it. I am crying at the awful brutality of having to harm myself, to save others. Now the bear is coming and I must hide. The only place to hide is inside an old wood burning stove. I crawl in backwards and am soon coated with the cold dead ashes of a previous fire. I feel sad and cornered.