Thursday, August 1, 2013


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?
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