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“The past is an illusion glimpsed in a misty rear view mirror,” offered the shaman in my dream. “Pass your hand over the mirror, clear it all away.” He was a magnificent being, polished mahogany Caribbean skin, long dark hair as a backdrop to thick, glossy, silver white curls that framed his face and tumbled down to reach his waist. A modern shaman, offering a car metaphor rather than a story from nature. The dream