Abstract: I am studying Svevo. In particular, as it happens, the "Conscience of Zeno". Now, say that this book is steeped in every line of Freudian psychology, is an understatement. Too little.
will fly, not to bore you (but especially not to bore myself, now that the mental strippo Cosini I sick and tired), the details of this, I must admit, a beautiful work of our first-twentieth-century literature . E planer (I also have to land after flying from somewhere, right?) Directly on what really interests me. This is a seemingly intractable question: I am well aware, in fact, how many brilliant minds have been questioned in the course of centuries, the thorny question of the interpretation of dreams. You say: "Sigmund gave birth to a special treaty on the subject, why not of engaging him?". Why I, as a big dreamer, which I consider myself, I'm happy not to reduce the significance of my productions night (oh my God, it sounds bad) to cold psycho-scientific explanations. My dreams of any kind whatsoever, from the grotesque to the tragic, from the pornographic comic, deserve more. Deserve fantasy, which I think is a great thing to be imaginative.
And here come into play you, my dear. You should know that among the thousands I've done, there is a dream, in particular, I was pretty well printed well in the memory. Although to date back to the years of elementary Still, for idearlo, my single neuron Gina should not have sweated who knows how many shirts, although they are sincere, give rise to a certain disgust.
" E 'on my birthday. They are still tiny peak, eight or nine years at most. As every year, I invited my classmates and some other boyfriend to my house to celebrate. Mom prepared ciocorì I love so much: that is Pops, Mars and butter. Daddy, as always, will entertain all of us in letting us play at the Merchant Fair, giving away lots of candy, chocolates and peanuts. Suddenly the doorbell rings, I run to open but I encounter a person who not only did I not invited, but I just do not know. And 'a man of color, young enough. He says it may go up, that he wants to leave his gift. I do sit, but the stranger is a word just long enough to deliver the packet and then goes away. I and the gap inside the box, I just a nut. A simple nut. From the living room of my buddies call me, then support the nut on the desk in my bedroom and I get to celebrate for the rest of the afternoon. When, in the evening, after everyone had left, I go back to my room, the nut is still there. Exactly where I had left. Only it's open, split in two. And out from it a huge spider web, the threads of which branch off in the direction of all four walls. So that, not only in its center, but in the center of all my room I see a spider to sit motionless on the size abnormal. "
Fantasia, fantasy people ..! How you interpret it, this dream?
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