Here is an oddity:
Once we know that we do dream, and have learned the way we typically dream, and after we
have studied the matter scientifically over the years-- why does this so little
affect our dreaming? Why do we not
quickly realize, at least some of the time, Oho, this is just a dream.
The closest I’ve come was last night, in a richly complex
dreamscape combining people from my present job-setting with figures from my previous one. I was trying to get to the bottom of
something, and came to realize that what I was overtly dealing with was at
least in part “fiction” -- but was certain that real figures lay behind the
fictionalized characters, and went busily about trying to discover
who these might be. This
was to treat the pageant, not as a dream, but as a roman à clef.
But it wasn’t.
Each of the personnages was indeed a classic oneiric blend (Mischgebilde, aus Verdichtung & Verschiebung)
of several actual and unactual people , rather than someone you could decipher
with a cheat-sheet, as in a novel by Disraeli or Simone de Beauvoir.
~
Was für Krimi liest
wohl Dr. Sigmund Freud?
Schauen Sie mal!
~
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