Wandering around unknown city with AS. "Low-income area." Many unsavory types abound and increase in number. AS seems to know them, or where she is, but gradually, moving back and forth from one back alley to another, she admits aloud that she is lost and doesn't know these people. Bad idea, I tell her. We are attacked. I'm not sure what happens to her. Instead of me being attacked, I am able to stand and watch a third-person male get surrounded by the gang. It is the most vicious assault on a human being ever witnessed anywhere. 20-25 men stand around the fallen body and pummel, pulverize, spear, and maim him repeatedly for some time. When the crowd clears, there is little left recognizable as human flesh.
I have opportunity to escape. There is a window, and my joy is incalculable when I see there is another roof in jumping distance from the window. I go for it. I am chased by one male individual down some rooftops. I end up on the street, it is daytime, he is across the street looking my way, I hide behind someone else as they walk, but it is a laughable attempt.
Saturday, September 28, 2002
Friday, September 27, 2002
Clandesting Meeting / Borders
Clandestine meeting with x. At my parents' house, in my upstairs bedroom. x is eager to fool around, I grab her face and kiss it but mouths are dry and parched and is not as enjoyable as we'd hoped, for the moment. She gets up, we begin to discuss fear of discovery, but she leaves bedroom door open and smiles; seems she likes the danger. I agree we would have good warning if someone comes through the front door, but I also realize that we won't know who it is at the time - it could be my parents. She admires the walls and moldings. I peer out window (it is nighttime) and indeed my parents are coming up the driveway, back from store. There are maybe 3 large dark dogs out there too, guarding, they bark but do not attack.
Fragment where my bedroom is actually situated over a piano store in a mall. The idea is that I would hear soft classical piano music if someone were playing. The name of the store is French, possibly La Ciel.
I need some type of cover for this whole secret, and I end up at Borders Books. I am filling out the job application as part of my "cover"; I have the option to be "the boss." The application forces me to list the first 5 things I would do as boss. My first answer is a web site address, similar to this blog site's address but with "newyork" in there somewhere. Second, I write I would immediately get to know the store layout, new store policies.
Kay is working at the store. She is approaching the desk and muttering to herself, disgusted by the management. She makes some comment to the effect that they could lose control of their bodily functions and not even notice, "just keep going." A tall male who is in charge sees me and starts ordering me around; it appears, even as I hold the application, I am already hired and on the schedule. He not-so-gently reminds me that on the schedule I am supposed to be back up at this desk every 6 minutes. I'm thinking that is the most outrageously stupid way of scheduling people because they won't be able to get anything else done. Every 6 minutes?
This turns into complete disgust with the place and I tear up the application and make some loud negative comments. I walk towards the main entrance to leave. I see Tom P working there and I feel bad for him, for what everyone goes through there. I am almost out but there are these step-type display shelves blocking the exits. I remember that they were working on the entrance and that only the side entrances are open. But my defiant energy is in this direction and so I walk up the steps and force the large wooden doors open. There are some tables on the outside but they are easily moved and I exit through the crack on top of them. I am very proud that I did this, leave in the physical manner in which I chose, in a rebellious manner that no one else had before, a "working outside the box" feeling but exaggerated into a near-miracle.
Fragment where my bedroom is actually situated over a piano store in a mall. The idea is that I would hear soft classical piano music if someone were playing. The name of the store is French, possibly La Ciel.
I need some type of cover for this whole secret, and I end up at Borders Books. I am filling out the job application as part of my "cover"; I have the option to be "the boss." The application forces me to list the first 5 things I would do as boss. My first answer is a web site address, similar to this blog site's address but with "newyork" in there somewhere. Second, I write I would immediately get to know the store layout, new store policies.
Kay is working at the store. She is approaching the desk and muttering to herself, disgusted by the management. She makes some comment to the effect that they could lose control of their bodily functions and not even notice, "just keep going." A tall male who is in charge sees me and starts ordering me around; it appears, even as I hold the application, I am already hired and on the schedule. He not-so-gently reminds me that on the schedule I am supposed to be back up at this desk every 6 minutes. I'm thinking that is the most outrageously stupid way of scheduling people because they won't be able to get anything else done. Every 6 minutes?
This turns into complete disgust with the place and I tear up the application and make some loud negative comments. I walk towards the main entrance to leave. I see Tom P working there and I feel bad for him, for what everyone goes through there. I am almost out but there are these step-type display shelves blocking the exits. I remember that they were working on the entrance and that only the side entrances are open. But my defiant energy is in this direction and so I walk up the steps and force the large wooden doors open. There are some tables on the outside but they are easily moved and I exit through the crack on top of them. I am very proud that I did this, leave in the physical manner in which I chose, in a rebellious manner that no one else had before, a "working outside the box" feeling but exaggerated into a near-miracle.
Welcome
Quotes from Carl Jung (1875-1961)
"I have no theory about dreams, I do not know how dreams arise. And I am not at all sure that - my way of handling dreams even deserves the name of a "method." I share all your prejudices against dream-interpretation as the quintessence of uncertainty and arbitrariness. On the other hand, I know that if we meditate on a dream sufficiently long and thoroughly, if we carry it around with us and turn it over and over, something almost always comes of it. This something is not of course a scientific result to be boasted about or rationalized; but it is an important practical hint which shows the patient what the unconscious is aiming at. Indeed, it ought not to matter to me whether the result of my musings on the dream is scientifically verifiable or tenable, otherwise I am pursuing an ulterior-and therefore autoerotic-aim. I must content myself wholly with the fact that the result means something to the patient and sets his life in motion again. I may allow myself only one criterion for the result of my labours: does it work? As for my scientific hobby-my desire to know why it works-this I must reserve for my spare time."
"The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the soul, opening into that cosmic night which was psyche long before there was any ego consciousness, and which will remain psyche no matter how far our ego-consciousness extends. For all ego-consciousness is isolated; because it separates and discriminates, it knows only particulars, and it sees only those that can be related to the ego. Its essence is limitation, even though it reach to the farthest nebulae among the stars. All consciousness separates; but in dreams we put on the likeness of that more universal, truer, more eternal man dwelling in the darkness of primordial night. There he is still the whole, and the whole is in him, indistinguishable from nature and bare of all egohood. It is from these all-uniting depths that the dream arises, be it never so childish, grotesque, and immoral."
"Dream psychology opens the way to a general comparative psychology from which we may hope to gain the same understanding of the development and structure of the human psyche as comparative anatomy has given us concerning the human body."
"No amount of scepticism and criticism has yet enabled me to regard dreams as negligible occurrences. Often enough they appear senseless, but it is obviously we who lack the sense and ingenuity to read the enigmatic message from the nocturnal realm of the psyche. Seeing that at least half our psychic existence is passed in that realm, and that consciousness acts upon our nightly life just as much as the unconscious overshadows our daily life, it would seem all the more incumbent on medical psychology to sharpen its senses by a systematic study of dreams. Nobody doubts the importance of conscious experience; why then should we doubt the significance of unconscious happenings? They also are part of our life, and sometimes more truly a part of it for weal or woe than any happenings of the day."
"I have no theory about dreams, I do not know how dreams arise. And I am not at all sure that - my way of handling dreams even deserves the name of a "method." I share all your prejudices against dream-interpretation as the quintessence of uncertainty and arbitrariness. On the other hand, I know that if we meditate on a dream sufficiently long and thoroughly, if we carry it around with us and turn it over and over, something almost always comes of it. This something is not of course a scientific result to be boasted about or rationalized; but it is an important practical hint which shows the patient what the unconscious is aiming at. Indeed, it ought not to matter to me whether the result of my musings on the dream is scientifically verifiable or tenable, otherwise I am pursuing an ulterior-and therefore autoerotic-aim. I must content myself wholly with the fact that the result means something to the patient and sets his life in motion again. I may allow myself only one criterion for the result of my labours: does it work? As for my scientific hobby-my desire to know why it works-this I must reserve for my spare time."
"The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the soul, opening into that cosmic night which was psyche long before there was any ego consciousness, and which will remain psyche no matter how far our ego-consciousness extends. For all ego-consciousness is isolated; because it separates and discriminates, it knows only particulars, and it sees only those that can be related to the ego. Its essence is limitation, even though it reach to the farthest nebulae among the stars. All consciousness separates; but in dreams we put on the likeness of that more universal, truer, more eternal man dwelling in the darkness of primordial night. There he is still the whole, and the whole is in him, indistinguishable from nature and bare of all egohood. It is from these all-uniting depths that the dream arises, be it never so childish, grotesque, and immoral."
"Dream psychology opens the way to a general comparative psychology from which we may hope to gain the same understanding of the development and structure of the human psyche as comparative anatomy has given us concerning the human body."
"No amount of scepticism and criticism has yet enabled me to regard dreams as negligible occurrences. Often enough they appear senseless, but it is obviously we who lack the sense and ingenuity to read the enigmatic message from the nocturnal realm of the psyche. Seeing that at least half our psychic existence is passed in that realm, and that consciousness acts upon our nightly life just as much as the unconscious overshadows our daily life, it would seem all the more incumbent on medical psychology to sharpen its senses by a systematic study of dreams. Nobody doubts the importance of conscious experience; why then should we doubt the significance of unconscious happenings? They also are part of our life, and sometimes more truly a part of it for weal or woe than any happenings of the day."
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