William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Jung and Easily Freudened, Specimen 1

I used to have dreams about work not done. I was behind on the farm, I was late, the necessity and importance of the job had completely slipped my mind. An example: suddenly it was April or May, and I realized I had forgotten to prune ten whole acres of vines. Always, or almost always, the dreams culminated in a feeling of guilt and shame. It has been many years since I have had such a dream. And it seems likely now that I was awake during some of them, that sleep, in fact, was the illusion.

Heavy rains. Rivers and streams past flood stage. I cannot help thinking about the lives of puddles. What is it like for them during the night? Do they sleep? Do they gaze up in wonder, and, through the racing clouds, catch glimpses of the stars?

It strikes me now that the mind is an incredibly fragile thing. Resilient, too. Yet the thought is hardly original. I myself have had it a thousand times — or I think I have.

For instance, in terms of fragility, I wonder if the little wisdom I have is stored not just in my body and brain, but primarily in my hair and beard, and what, consequently, would happen if I were to reduce them to a conventional length. Would I be subject to recurring bouts of sanity? Most importantly, what, if anything, is conventional, and why?

April 9, 2019

 
Jung and Easily Freudened

Specimen 1

The patient didn’t know
he was the patient

the doctor didn’t know
he was the doctor

I didn’t know
either of them

so I turned away
from the mirror —

yes I said I turned away,
turned away from the mirror.

Poems, Slightly Used, November 26, 2008

Categories: Dreams, New Poems & Pieces, Poems, Slightly Used

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