The ego cannot bear correction and turns hardest on the part of the mind that would gently set things right. Stand back, it says, and he would be a judge, resenting the quiet teacher as an intruder with no standing to redeem. The crowd presses harder precisely because a saner voice has spoken, for guilt grows loudest when it is about to be released.
What nearly breaks is the door of the mind's last shelter, the thin wall between fear and the peace still kept within. The pressure feels like the world bearing down. It is one mind refusing its own correction, and the door holds only as long as that correction is chosen again.
Door: the fragile threshold between the mind's remaining peace and the guilt that would flood in, the point where the choice for love is still being made.
Lot: the gentle corrective voice within, resented and pressed upon for daring to judge the wrong a dream.