Freud , Freddie and F
“Researchers have to failed to demystify a conundrum-human psyche. Sounds like cliché but the significance is unquestionable . The premise of Freud’s theory of personality is still rated ostensible.
1200 Hrs: Minsk : Belarus . Freddie , 35 , a brash software programmer was in jitters. Aspirations were at stake . Previous indignations were enough to stimulate a whine that never came out. The tensed-board-room always felt inimical. And what followed was never thought. “Anna will lead the team” , said the directors .”Damn ….. “ , said Freddie .
Breadchest Hospital : Freddie was diagnosed with CVF( congenital ventricular fibrillations ) and the attack was psychologically triggered” , said the doctors. Porridge was served and soon Freddie went into sleep. It was raining heavily and distinctly audible was the croaky sound. The necromancer was firmly holding a frog , just when a noise of bullet shot brought the Amazon to a stand still. ‘F’. Yes , that was the new name , perhaps the first one. New grounds felt like velvet. “Why not?” I was inside a steel cage which the sentinel was holding. My owner , Madame Michelle was enjoying the razzmatazz. What a show it was. Glossy and effervescent . Just when I was figuring out my journey from Amazon rain forests to this opera house , the protagonist seemed a bit nearer and shockingly familiar through Michelle’s lorgnette, who was sitting in front . It was me , Freddie , potraying a selfish misanthrope inside a cage of thick glass.
He could always see ; but never listen .
Show ended . Fireworks and confetti falling all over .Some fell on me too . But this time I could feel them.
No wonder! The cage wasn’t there . Neither outside , nor inside . Myriad thoughts gushed into. I quickly recognized the porridge bowl . Emotions were on a high . I looked into Anna’a eyes. She was there with five others , who came to wish me health . Confetti had settled by now.
Even Sigmund Freud wouldn’t have thought that dreams could change some personality traits . I offered myself to this beautiful world and its people at large. Life has much to offer.”
ON the death bed at 61 , I wrote this letter to my daughter Jenny , narrating the incident that changed me for ever . I looked at firmament through the window and felt a second wind.
Realisation was long back ; Reclamation followed.
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