Though I couldn't remember exactly how, I had killed my own mother in an unbearable nightmare. There was circumstantial evidence the police were about to discover, but playing it cool and lying, I'd remained free of jail, though emotionally ostracized from everyone forever! What a choice!
Agonizing, my astral self closed his eyes, begging that it all be just a dream. Seeking to escape this horrible moral burden, I visualized my dead mother holding me in her arms, lovingly trying to awaken me. Unable to admit my crime to anyone else in the dream, I begged her forgiveness for murdering her. As I did, my prayer was answered! Some almighty lever at the fulcrum of my awareness shifted and I awoke. What I had believed to be absolutely real wasn't! My mother was dead, yes, but I was no murderer. Guilty of not doing all I could have to save her, perhaps. Guilty of selfishness, definitely. But no murderer. And yet...
Good and evil. Innocence and murder. Dream and reality. Connected. We all posses a dark side.