Phony Fucking Consciousness
(Jan 11/06)
At 5.27pm this afternoon I asked my analyst if I might not be an inmate in an insane asylum, and what I thought to be conscious, or real, was in fact a dream or a false-reality. Perhaps, I added, I am brought up to see you three times a week by some square-shouldered orderly, unbelted from straightjacket, and plunked down on your divan. How am I to know, I said? Maybe what I take, or perceive, to be conscious, is in actual fact unconscious, or vice versa. What if, what if that in deed is the case? He cleared his throat, popped in another licorice baby, and shifted his weight from one hip to the other. Perhaps some horrendous childhood trauma has left me sterile of consciousness, unable to differentiate between conscious and unconscious. Seeing as we have determined that I am Ego-barren, a consonant Id, the thought has, I fear, crossed my mind, repeatedly.
At 5.27pm this afternoon I asked my analyst if I might not be an inmate in an insane asylum, and what I thought to be conscious, or real, was in fact a dream or a false-reality. Perhaps, I added, I am brought up to see you three times a week by some square-shouldered orderly, unbelted from straightjacket, and plunked down on your divan. How am I to know, I said? Maybe what I take, or perceive, to be conscious, is in actual fact unconscious, or vice versa. What if, what if that in deed is the case? He cleared his throat, popped in another licorice baby, and shifted his weight from one hip to the other. Perhaps some horrendous childhood trauma has left me sterile of consciousness, unable to differentiate between conscious and unconscious. Seeing as we have determined that I am Ego-barren, a consonant Id, the thought has, I fear, crossed my mind, repeatedly.
It was you, was it not, who suggested I am paralytic with Freudian ‘repetition compulsion’, and furthermore, contend that I am prone to self-punishment, which is mitigated by the compulsion to repeat ad nausea. The Walserian similarities are most disconcerting. Fuck it, who really gives a rat’s ass what I consider to be real, conscious, phony, or unconscious, surely not I, or a synoptic simulacrum thereof. It just goes to show: something’s aren’t worth the bother of bothering with. Anyhow, dreamscapes are far more entertaining and much less bothersome, even for the synoptically challenged and Ego-barren, or those of us with funnels in the posterior nock of our brain-packages.
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