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Crystal Salt
  • Writer's pictureCristina Deutsch

With Freud in Your Pocket

Updated: Mar 16, 2023

After the previous post, I was laughing like a hyena in front of the computer, imagining how I would stuff that nearly 700-page Freud volume into my pocket. Stuff that already made me want to wither, especially since I remembered that I still have about 150 pages to go before I finish it. Don't ask me what I need it for, because I don't know for now either. Surely

it will be useful for something eventually. Although this is exactly what I was talking about with a friend a few days (weeks?!) ago - I have an incredible feeling of déjà vu, as if I've read it ten times before. I really didn't read The Interpretation of Dreams (I'm ashamed to admit...) until this age. The explanation probably lies in the fact that fragments and scraps appear in various places, most of the time without being properly cited, which have somehow stuck to my brains. Hence probably the prejudice that he sexualizes everything he puts his hands on. A prejudice that I was a bit clinging to (and that I still see in every one of his analyses), I think I insist on it precisely because I need completely different elements.

At one point, around 1991-1992 (so I was about 14 years old) I had begun to conscientiously write down my dreams in some notebooks pompously titled "Dream Book". It's funny when I look back now and see where I was flying... I think I was mainly seeing the funny side of things. In any case, they are far too bizarre to be used as literary material in something, I tried... I certainly did not have a Freudian perspective on things. Instead, it seems that the thing works very well, directly when I have to write. I think it can't be more economical than that - character X comes, he says "what are you doing, little piece of shit, are you sleeping?". "Yes, I'm sleeping, leave me alone...". "Well, how do you dare to sleep," he says. "Take a look, we have some work to do tomorrow. I'll do this, that, and the other. Pay attention to what you'll write in there...". This is how Bebe Boian appeared. He also gave me the title of the novel: The Crocodile Tree. And that's how it stayed from beginning to end, I didn't have the guts to change it. I then started to search on the net, to see what the hell he wanted: which tree? which crocodiles? In the meantime, I still had an idea but he never showed up to tell me if it was ok or not. It's even worse when several characters appear at the same time, coming out from various texts (because I do have others in the works...), and start messing with my sleep. I've kept saying that I'm going to put a notebook next to my bed, to write down what needs to be written down - but the thing is, by the time I wake up, turn on the light, give some explanations, pet the dog, everything has gone to hell. I tried to record some stuff with my phone – it fell a few times on the floor, his guts out, and the screen is a mess... Yesterday I was woken up by a being who told me that my husband is hiding something good to eat under the pillow... Pull the pillow, wake the man up from his sleep - there was no food... I suppose that these visitors like to make fun of me from time to time...

In any case, I'm going to finish reading Freudeven if my eyes will pop out of my head. At least that's how, when another uninvited being appears in my sleep, I'll take that brick of a book out of my pocket and I'll poke him on his head to make him sleep too for good...

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