REM Sleep phases: The second one...
"Feeling mode"...

I said "tomorrow"... much easier to say than to do... Especially when you forget for a few seconds of a constant dilemma that confronts you just like that very stubborn train on the monorail path... And then this construction starts to buzz in the ears and say: "Your actions are absolutely not right ones... In the best way, they are just not quite right... Do you have barks?.. And if so, then why are you using them once in a blue moon or not using at all?" And I'm coming to stop... And tomorrow is putted down, no matter how much I want to bring it closer myself... pull it up nearer to my face by ears... by shoulders... neck... kiss hard-hard and say:

- Hi, My Tomorrow-Day-After-Tomorrow-Over-The-Year-Over-Hundred... Here I am...

And doesn't give a damn about all the humming warningly trains... Let them mutter like old chap Siggy about flowers screaming this and that about our sexual problems that is the root of all our troubles... Even professor himself solved his ones in a very banal way... For example, churned out a helluva lot of babies and did not forget to write researches more often to feed, dress, put on shoes and give a decent education to this crowd generated by his sexual appetites...

But as soon as Carl Jung, with all the excitement inherent to his passionate nature, clutched at the deeper meaning of dream the Master has told him about in a minute of candor and suspected the Master's secret attraction not to his worthy wife but another object, as he thought best to slowly fall over in a faint... Because this, most likely, was true, otherwise why man of such a great intellectual power preferred, defending himself from this very true, to go into the temporary nonexistence covering stouter the lid over his mind?

Will I be treating these luminaries of science with less respect because of their sweetest vulnerabilities, simplest frolics and historical anecdotes that are not to their credit… Rather on a contrary… This makes me love these people and think them necessary ones for this universe not only because they were self-sacrificing pioneers who opened to us broad road to the million of most obvious and most unnoticed by us things, but also because they stayed alive despite all the immense depth of their mental processes from which ones we could only be out of our trees.. they were damn alive... they've been rolling in a hay... smoking pipes... drinking coffee... and loving their red sails, which were given to them by their not quite loved but very wealthy wives, sleeping with whom was very boring, but to some extent, "at night all cats are grey"... and it's better to do with your predefined-by-Church wife than not to do at all, just till you can find in yourself enough strength to not to try something that is sweet to the itch at the back somewhere between the shoulder-blades...

My train hums... This King's Blaine the Mono that I want to blow to hell (oh, how much I would need dear dearie Burke with his risky toy construction set) is warning again that I'm going too fast and the rails ran out a long time ago...

But your warm beard that appeared in a dream today (and 'today' it's already this very 'tomorrow', and when it comes at your place I don't know at all) whispers to me very different things, and what's it like with the touch disturbs me even more, so here I am...

To talk to you about anything and everything and wait for help... Because you're still my psychoanalyst... so who am I to ask if not you... and if not you then it's just no one...

- My place near you is still free?.. I want to talk to you about it right now, my precious, my love...

- Right now?..

- Yes...

- About what?..

- About anything... Of cabbages and kings, of red sails, damn it... Of what "if one person's soul longs for miracle, give him that miracle... Then he will have new soul as well as you..."

Of a dangerous method, finally... Start with something... with anything... for example, with answering several questions that are popping out from everywhere in very different times and destructing from what I absolutely consider necessary thing of having enough time to do it... My questions in the dark with complete absence of box of matches and bunch of torches behind my back... Who to know this if not you... Let's start with the easiest and the most difficult ones I will save for the most dangerous "later"... if, of course, my personal train will be able to get to this "later" there one day... to my "tomorrow-day-after-tomorrow-over-year-over-hundred"...

What determines the success of the movie?..

Can a bad PR to be the cause of a failed masterpiece's fate?..

If one actor carries on his shoulders the whole film, then can the other cast member nullify all the attempts of the other members?..

And maybe all the failures of all the latest creator's creations lie in the fact that all who are supposed to think, watch, but, most importantly, to see and to hear what they were told to instead want only to "swallow" and completely forgot how it is to enjoy the water running and cherry blossoms falling into the wind over the old Kyoto...

Why no one wanted to take this opportunity to be cured with a word and dangerous method's help?.. I so much don't want to believe that Viggo who sadly noted

"I'd hate to think it was simply a question of general ignorance and lack of individual imagination on the part of the voters. I'd hate to think it was that. I'd have to assume that [enough of them] didn't see the movie. I hope that's why!"

was right... And the cause is in decay of everyone's intelligence, knowledge, education... No doubt these things matter... in some way... but any man can do what another man has done... And banal housewife that shed a tear in a great museum to the great picture completely unaware that brought her to these tears is worthy of respect no less than a scientist who found, to our trouble, the answer: "Who created us and why?.."

I hope his assumption is just a mistake... or he's digging too deep... Maybe we just didn't notice that "We forgot ourselves like a coat in the locker after boozing strong in Easter..."

What do you think about it, my dear?... We became petty, no?... bustled out, er?.. Everything's getting slower and slower to us... and the blockbuster's scenes are changing one another with all the more stunning speed... characters are more and more witty... think faster and faster as if they want to play in the talking-race with the worst one (who is 'Junior') or, and it's much harder, with the very best and youngest Sherlock of 21st century... Blah-blah-blah! Pew-pew-pew! DADADADADADADADA CIRCUS DADADADADADADADA AFRO CIRCUS AFRO CIRCUS AFRO POLKA DOT POLKA DOT POLKA DOT AFRO... Well, it seems here we have a record box-office... and what a record could be if there's no "a-lot-of-fun" in a movie... this very mindless hasty neighing that doesn't require any efforts from grey worms that generously filling the brain of barbaric mortal Engineers...

I think we ourselves already won't create ever anyone good... a little bit more of vulgarity... of such an unrefined Rabelaisian humor that is hiding just in this very shot where the pants burst on the arse of a poor fat guy or cunning sadist-inventor pushes with ladle active uncooked crayfishes into someone's pants... Then, of course, such a film as "A Dangerous Method" will have no chance of success and warm treatment in response... And this is so bad... so disappointing that I immediately want to be born back... to somewhere where love, curled up in a ball, is still hiding around the corner, and the talking cure still exist and a dangerous method is still dangerous because of the necessary "causing-no-harm" to another person... a neighbor... whom you will come to love and find in yourself strength to become for him a good Samaritan for a while... even to the detriment of yourself... as the best Carl of all I've ever seen... your Carl Gustav Jung...


to be continued...