He who sleeps in the grave of the millennia dreams a wonderful dream.
He dreams a primordially ancient dream.
He dreams of the rising sun.
If you sleep this sleep and dream this dream in this time of the world, you will know that the sun will also rise at this time.
For the moment we are still in the dark, but the day is upon us.
He who comprehends the darkness in himself, to him the light is near.
He who climbs down into his darkness reaches the staircase of the working light, fire -maned Helios.
His chariot ascends with four white horses, his back bears no cross, and his side no wound, but he is safe and his head blazes in the fire.
Nor is he a man of mockery, but of splendor and unquestionable force.
I do not know what I speak, I speak in a dream.
Support me for I stagger, drunk with fire. I drank fire in this night, since I climbed down through the centuries and plunged into the sun far at the bottom.
And I rose up drunk from the sun, with a burning countenance and my head is ablaze.
Give me your hand, a human hand, so that you I can hold me to the earth with it, for whirling veins of fire swoop me up, and exultant longing tears me toward the zenith. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 272