Sacrifice of a Song

First thing off: being analyzed through a dream was an interesting experience. I'd have to say that I enjoyed it more than I thought I would; though I changed the display and blog name for anonymity and I think anonymity is a good idea still, I'm more supportive of the fact that we're writing out our dreams for other people to read, especially since it was nice to get detached impressions of who I seem to be to other people.

Reading Freud was difficult as expected, partly due to his writing style and partly due to the content. I've come to understand why everyone associates sexual and sexuality as a basis with him, but that conclusion irks me. He's very egotistical relating everything to himself or his patients, manipulative as well, but never mentions any of his own repressed sexual wishes.

His analysis of dreams, working from a repressed wish, does not flow very well. It's more as if he dumps all this information that might be relevant and then pulls out connections out of the air. Relating the dream manifest to real-life is fine but not when he forces them to show a connection that may not even be there. I don't doubt that Freud is important but his writing seems very self-centered, and I can't escape that feeling to put more focus on his analysis of dreams.

My father is talking outside my bedroom door. I'm lying in bed, trying to hear what he's saying. I reach over to turn on the light, but my father's voice fills the room instead of light. He is sitting on my bed, telling me that I have to hide, that there are people coming for me. I look toward the door; it looks like someone is hiding right out of my line of sight. He calls me his precious, tells me to trust Sin, and to go to sleep...

The two analysts have quite different views; wish fulfillment vs compensation. Freud seemed like he was grasping when he pulled in the real life elements to explain dreams, tying them together in a fragile connection based on his own belief of wish fulfillment, like with the may beetle dream. Jung shows a more plausible analysis (in my opinion) by bringing in the details as he needs them for the man who dreamed of a snake guarding the golden bowl. He explains the necessary points, instead of a dump of information that may not tie together, but forces to tie together as Freud does it.

I'm in La Maison du Chocolat talking to my friend who works there about different flavors. She takes out a huge chunk of chocolate and whacks at it with a knife like a butcher. Each piece turns out to be a perfect triangular shape, and she puts them into a box.

I'm digging around in some sort of junkyard. I'm actually standing on something like a mountain of chains but at the same time, there's all this debris around and under me. I don't know what I'm searching for but I'm rooting around quite desperately.

Reading Kafka was confusing, and very fragmented. There were so many absurd bits that made me think that I was just reading one long dream. In "The Country Doctor," what stood out to me was Rose, and the doctor's relationship with her. It's written that he hardly took any notice of her, even though she had been with him for years, but still saw that she was pretty.