December 2013


Interessante Diskussion mit meinem Therapeuten

Mein Therapeut sitzt am Tisch, an seinen langen Beinen sieht man, dass er sehr groß ist.

Ich sage, dass ich bestraft werden müsse.

Er fragt mich warum, und redet mir gut zu, als hätte ich in vollem Ernst diese Aussage getan, die ja nur von meinem hypothetischen, damaligen Ich stammte. Aber das muss er doch wissen. Deshalb korrigiere ich ihn auch nicht, sondern bleibe in meiner angenommenen Rolle und beantworte seine Frage, indem ich sage, ich müsse bestraft werden, weil ich mich nicht anpasse an die herrschenden Kräfte. Er freilich redet weiter so, als versuche er mich therapeutisch auf den rechten Weg zu führen, weg von der Selbstbestrafung, die ich heute ja gar nicht mehr vertrete.

Ich sage: "Entweder man steht gegen den Staat oder als Wächter des Staats, und mir schien es leichter oder besser den Staat zu bewachen." So zeige ich die gegensätzlichen Positionen auf: diejenige, die ich damals vertrat; diejenige, die ich heute vertrete. 

Ich sage: "Ich habe meine Erinnerungen vor mir selbst versteckt, weil ich Angst hatte umgebracht zu werden. Da habe ich sogar die Überzeugung entwickelt, dass bestraft werden müsse, wer sich der herrschenden Macht nicht anpasst."



Two spiders and a painted dog

I'm alone in a room with covered-up windows. I'm very tired but I've seen a black spider and cannot sleep as long as it's there. To catch it I walk around, scanning the room.

Then I see the spider again, large and spiky. It looks like a superposition of two spidery stars. They  come apart, I see two spiders fighting each other near the bottom end of a playground slide made porportionally smaller to fit in the room.

Now the spiders run from each other, going to different parts of the room. And I must catch them both, one after the other.

Pursuing first the one that appeared second I want to catch it with a cup in my hand. But it never waits long enough to give me a chance. Then it runs up the book shelves disappearing on top where the lovebird hid from the spotted dog.

That one out of my reach and the other one hiding my undertaking seems hopeless now. Still, I go after the one that appeared first. I see it in the place where the fighting started, when I get there it has turned into a humpbacked beatle, I can't explain this change.

Chasing it counter-clockwise around the room the hump turns into an orange dog but only the painted shape of one, unnatural looking, purple even.

That dog is unreal, I can only be dreaming. I must wake myself to hunt down the spider.

I rouse myself, I'm devastated, all I wanted was to finally sleep.



A club of criminal men on a bed, I'm a member against my will

I'm in a meeting of men on a bed, heads held low looking up to the windows. There is light from a presumably grey sky but no way to tell our location. We are criminals, the men and I. They need my special abilities here.

Crowded with the others I'm alone among strangers. I don't really like them.

Next to me on the bed is the good-looking leader who brought me into this organization. He makes it his job to find out about lives, then he uses that knowledge to put pressure on people.

He smugly asks about my club membership. I imagine strangling him right now. I push him towards the edge of the bed, shouting: "Tell me what you know about me and this CLUB! You know everything already, so YOU tell me what happened!"

He has been blackmailing me.



© Anthony Thwaites