Some people liken the Yin-Yang symbol to two interlocked fish, each with an eye of the opposite color.  I recently dreamed that I was, in essence, the light eye of the dark fish.  I was visiting a shop in an old downtown setting, the entrance at the top of a short flight of stairs.  When I walked in the door, the owners (three men, standing together talking in an aisle near the door) eyed me with great interest, and I got the impression that they found it significant that I had returned.  One of them perhaps even said "Welcome back," though if not then the feeling was the same.  This shop was an emporium of darkness.  However, it wasn't how one might picture a Voudou shop or Hollywood-style den of devil-worshippers.  There was absolutely no feeling of the Christian definition of "evil" here.  This was a place devoid of dualistic judgments.  It was simply and purely the stuff of darkness.  It was like any typical shop, with rows of display shelves, only more dimly lit in a purplish or ultraviolet glow, with gothic velvet curtains and the like.  The patrons moved about the store very quietly and slowly, with a sense of awe or at least propriety.  I walked through the displays with increasing fascination and with a feeling of immense happiness.  The store will full of amazing artifacts behind glass, such as figurines from different cultures and time periods (I was particularly impressed by the gargoyles and other grotesqueries) and elaborately bound ancient books of a sacred nature.  There was a lifetime of wisdom available here.  The more I looked, the more I dreamed of running such a shop myself, convinced that such a venture would be incredibly successful.  I had a sense that the owners were watching me or at least eager to speak with me, and at some point I decided to slip out.  Upon leaving the shop and standing on the street outside, my dream became lucid.  I started to feel slightly fearful of the neighborhood, but since I knew that I was dreaming, I knew that I could fly away if I wanted to, so I did.  Why do I say that I was the light eye in the dark fish?  I was not the darkness itself, but I was surrounded by it and an integral part of it.  I felt at home there, and immeasurably peaceful.  The darkness, I suppose, made my light all the brighter.  Being free of dualistic labels was a revelation.  The artifacts were not, as one might have instinctively said, evil, ugly, horrific, or disturbing.  They were perfect--that's all.  Why did I become fearful upon leaving the shop?  I don't know.  Perhaps the light/dark balance was offset the farther I went from the shop?