I don’t know much about Freud… practiced psychiatry in Vienna didn’t he? Helped folks out with their mental problems I’m told… and got paid to do it! Sandy Koufax practiced pitching in Brooklyn and Los Angeles. He struck out folks… and got paid handsomely to do it.
Well, there we are… two of the greatest Jewish left handers of the 20th Century.
This Freud guy had some racket. Among other things, he was fascinated by people’s dreams… and in studying these dreams he though it would help him better understand where folks “stood” — what was going on in their minds. Call me a skeptic… but I think delving into folks’ dreams is questionable at best — maybe one or two steps better than feeling bumps on someone’s noggin as an insight to what’s going on inside the noggin.
I guess I object to the critical analysis of dreams itself. To me a dream is a work of art… a wonderful expression of the creativity of our minds… something to be appreciated & not overly analyzed. And while there is an abundance of art critics around, it is fair to say that the artist questions their activity with severe disdain.
And it is in that spirit that I sneer at Dr. Freud… even though I know so little about him and his method… And even though he was a great left hander.
You may have already guessed… this is a small story about dreams. And specifically my dreams. Most of my dreams are a patchwork quilt of people, times & places. Folks who couldn’t have possibly known each other, in places that partially exist, in times that would be appropriate for no one. This takes place across the stage of my mind while I sleep.
I will get up from a sleep that has produced a dream (I don’t remember them all… maybe there are times that I sleep without a dream), and I will spend minutes, sometimes the better part of the day, piecing together the elements of the dream, much the same as an archeologist, sifting thru shards of pottery, tries to make “heads or tails” of what took place in a kitchen 2500 years ago.
I love doing this… sifting thru my dreams, that is.
I attribute the fertility of my dreams these days to working my way thru John Irving’s latest novel Until I Find You. Irivng is my favorite author by miles. His creative story telling is without peer. The layering of characters positioned in improbable situations is… well, “dream like”. I marvel at his skill. Further, he picks from the full inventory of emotions and hands you a plate piled high with humor and heart break.
I can do the same thing… only not while I’m awake. And sometimes when I do this I am not even aware of it… and it has to be reported to me by others.
It happened like this.
I was in the midst of a “Disney nap”… a “Disney nap” being less than an hour in duration that takes place either on a couch, or on a carpeted floor (with a blanket and a squnchie pillow) and always in front of a VCR. In days of old this nap would be launched while “watching” an animated Disney feature like Sleeping Beauty or Beauty and the Beast. Today a “Disney nap” can be launched by any number of vehicles, not exclusive to the Disney studio, and exhaustion being the primary source…
During a recent “nap”, Sandy heard me say the following: “13 beers and the Merritt”.
OK… I guess I talk in my sleep sometimes. It’s better than peeing in my sleep (and that will probably happen soon enough).
“13 beers and the Merritt”???
I have been working on this one for nearly a week, and as best as I can figure it, this is what took place…
“Toplitsky, the union man, wanted to slaughter a Vietnamese pot bellied pig at my Sister Lynn’s, who inherited the kosher meat business from Mommie Soph and moved it to Exit 52 on the Merritt Parkway. She would only do this if Rabbi Goldburg (who was suspected by many of being a Lutheran) agreed that it was OK. Goldburg said it would be alright because the Day of Atonement would quickly reverse the Sin of dealing with swine flesh. However, the slaughtering would have to be witnessed by a Minyan (i.e. 10 observant Jews who were past their Bar Mitzvah). The task of assembling the Minyan was turned over to Francis Cardinal Spellman who would drive a converted RV up and down the Merritt Parkway looking for potential converts. During his recruitment drive, he parked his “Mitzvah Mobile” in the New Canaan Rest Stop, and then dragooned males of an appropriate age, who stopped at the r3st area to use the facilities… they would be lured inside the RV by promising to get them laid… and on entering the van the unsuspecting men were then doused with a can of Miller High Life and proclaimed to be Bar Mitzvahed. The Cardinal, steeped in enthusiasm, produced not ten; but twelve converts and polished off the thirteenth beer in celebration.”
Man… I just love dreams.
By the by, I don’t really know if Freud was left handed.