F I C T I O N I ran into Sigmund Freud the other day (I told you once but I’ll tell you again. It’s my fiction so I can meet up with anyone I like).
We were in front of a smokeshop and he was just coming out the door.
Sig, long time no see. Are you still smoking?
“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”
I know, but the research? I mean you must know smoking is bad for you.
“Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise.”
Hey, I’m really glad I’ve run into you because I had this dream a few nights ago that —
“The madman is a dreamer awake”
Okay, but this dream was really weird and I can’t figure out what it means.
“If you can’t do it, give up!”
That’s it? What happened to the whole dreams as wish fulfillments and dealing with the unconscious? You’re the man when it comes to understanding repressed thoughts.
Boy oh boy, today you’re handing out these bromides like they’re lollypops.
“When inspiration does not come to me, I go halfway to meet it.”
Sig, you know I respect you and the whole thing with the Oedipus complex and the libido, I mean it’s brilliant. You’re brilliant. But sometimes you can be really dense.
That explains it. That explains everything. How about a little help here. My dreams make no sense to me and I’m really trying to get to the truth.
“One day, in retrospect, the years of struggle will strike you as the most beautiful.”
For a guy who’s explored the human mind for a living you can be little flippant about my problem. I’m looking for answers.
“Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength.”
That’s what I’m talking about. You talk to me like I’m a hopeless case. Can’t you tell me some universal truth, something that will forever improve my psychic condition?
“Time spent with cats is never wasted.”