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Blog Entries posted by Hertz

  1. Hertz
    I'm hiding from someone in a sort of basement. I take a row boat to move away. My old dog jumps in, and I bring other things with me.
    I arrive in a village. The architecture looks medieval. I'm in the port side. On the roof of a building, which I think is a tavern or an inn, I see a spider. Through a window I see orange coming from the inn. I try to burn the spider with a torch, but I'm not successful.
    I leave the port, and enter a neighborhood that's more inland. The walls of the buildings are covered with a single type of insect, that is brownish. They are immobile and side by side in every direction, in a single layer.
    I continue walking and I see two butterflies having sex. They have arms and legs that look human. The male is sitting, and the female is sitting on him, her back turned to him.
    I walk further and see two green creatures, that look a little bit like the orcs in warcraft. In my mind I assimilate them to insects. There is a male and a female. They are also having sex. I'm surprised that as insects, they are doing a sex act that is not intended for reproduction.
    Two people arrive and disturb the orcs. The latter move away a little, without breaking their sexual position.
    I think this dream is a reflection of me seeing a sexologist in real life.
    The row boat means that I am confronting aspects of my subconscious.
    The port represents a region of my psyche that is at the frontier between conscious and subconscious.
    Orange stands for the energy linked to sexuality and desire.
    The spider symbolizes an overbearing and possessive mother.
    The neighborhood that is more inland is a part of me that is more conscious.
    The butterfly and the color green represent renewal. So my sexuality is on a path to a new beginning. Issues with my mother don't constitute an obstacle.
  2. Hertz
    - I'm in some sort of theme park, where the theme is the human body. There are giant body parts that you can enter and explore. I see a giant vagina very high on a huge wall.
    At some point I encounter a teen girl. She gives me some food that I find good. She looks like a hassidic jew girl. I find her attractive. She never looks me in the eye. She's acting very cold. I say the food was good and leave.
    - I'm imagining myself being a car salesman. I'm talking to someone in a parking lot.
    I'm in a shop to buy a cowboy suit. I don't have enough money, and the owner who is Hugh Jackman invites me to leave or he'll shoot me.
    I go sledding. I need to beat a certain time. After a few tries I manage to beat it. I'm super happy and say: "YESSSS!".
  3. Hertz
    I'm in south-america. I arrive in a country after doing a tour of the sub-continent with latina woman who had acted as a sort of assistant/tour guide. Since it is the end of the tour, it is time to part ways. I want to give her a tip. I look in my wallet and there is a 20$ bill and a 100$ bill. I hesitate a little and finally give her the 20$. We kiss lightly on the mouth.
    I'm sitting in a supermarket. I look at a young woman who's far away from me doing her shopping. Then I tell myself I'm gay, and I start looking for guys. Immediately, an asian man approaches me and hands me a document. I tell him he is mistaken. I wonder if he is a member of the triads. I go outside. I see a limousine. I try to go around it, but another asian man stops me, and points his arm towards the car, inviting me to embark. Then I see a young asian man die of a heart attack in front of the limousine's door, and I believe he is me.
    I'm in the house I grew up in. There is a toy ATV. It was given to me by my father. It goes pretty fast, I enjoy it. I hear the voice of one of my old friends, but I don't see him. He sounds enthusiastic about the vehicle. Later, my mom comes home. There was a christmas celebration at my brother's house, but I didn't go because I was sick. My mom brings me the gift that my father gave me. It is a Lego. I realize it is pretty infantile, but I don't reject it since it was given to me and I'm not losing anything by keeping it.
  4. Hertz
    I see Mariah Carey completely nude, lying on her back. To remove a tumor, she starts cutting off her right breast with scissors herself. There is no blood and she doesn't feel any pain. She even explains to me what she is doing, in a very gentle manner.
    A feminine part of myself is cutting away a deleterious influence from my mother. It's less painful than I would have thought.
    The part of me in question might be the creative expression of my feminity.
  5. Hertz
    The female body is not more special than the male body.
    I remember a Seinfeld episode where Elaine says that men's body isn't beautiful. That it's utilitarian, like a jeep. Whereas women's body is a work of art. I think in this instance Elaine acts as a puppet in the hand of patriarchal, homophobic culture being the ventriloquist.
    Since the media has been mostly created by heterosexual men for men, it's obvious men's body will not be valorized or eroticized.
    In another episode, Georges Costanza is with his boss and another man. They are in the office of the latter, and there is a picture of Evander Holyfield hanging on the wall. The man and the boss agree that Holyfield is beautiful, and ask Georges his opinion. Georges becomes extremely nervous and embarrassed.
    I think Georges again reflects the culture we live in.
    In one of his bits, Louie CK points out the fact that heterosexual men are the only group that can't tolerate being mistaken for another group with a different sexual orientation, they're the only ones who make deliberate efforts to avoid being mistaken that way.
    This reflects distortions in culture, and the barriers that prevent us from admiring and enjoying the male body.
    I'm in a tank. I'm in the "back seat". We stop so the the gunner can aim the cannon. I realize we are sitting ducks, so I yell: "Move forward! Move forward!" We start advancing again. We start chasing a military truck. The first shot goes through the cargo hold and exits on the other side, without doing any real damage. The second shot hits the driver's cabin. I even see the driver's body being ejected by the explosion. I decide to go back and loot the truck for ammo. Another crewmember tells me: "Say hello to them from us".
    I start exploring the remains of the truck, but I feel alone and vulnerable and I'm afraid there might be survivors.
    I can move forward and still be able to reach my objectives and reap rewards. I perceive staying still or moving backwards has hazardous.
    The different elements that constitute me can work together to reach goals.
  6. Hertz
    Been having mini-panic attacks lately. One time in a cubicle, another time in a bus. I start having the intuition that I'm about to die and it snowballs.
    My therapist says that because of my recent separation with my boyfriend, the future horizon suddenly shrunk. Where I saw a long term future, I now see december 2014. I'm back in the cubicle of time. Back to an absence of future. Time claustrophobia.
    Why am I interested in philosophy? What has it done for me?
    Should I get a smartphone?
    With all the marketing that surrounds us, is it even possible to shop for a phone in a cool headed way at all?
  7. Hertz
    I'm in Paris. I come back from a fair in metro. I arrive somewhere I can't really identify. Over there I meet a university classmate of French origin. I hug her belly and it feels really good. She leads me to a room. I presume we're going to have sex. When I enter the room I see my old dog Flocon, who I gave away in real life a month ago. When I see him I'm both surprised and embarrassed. I laugh nervously while saying I really didn't expect to see him and had forgotten she owns him.
    Interpretation 1:
    I don't acknowledge how crucial the dog was for giving me warmth and affection. Maybe there is something about animals that can't be replaced by humans.
    Interpretation 2:
    In the dream, I plan to have sex with a woman, when in reality I am gay. When I enter the room, I am reminded of my instincts. My embarrassment and surprise show that I don't fully acknowledge them. Perhaps I am incredulous at the idea that a man can bring me everything I need.
  8. Hertz
    Gave my dog away yesterday. To a friend of a friend. Someone reliable.
    Today I went for a walk, and the thought that he wouldn't be waiting at the door made me sit on a park bench and cry for half an hour.
    I hadn't cried like that since 2007, when depression was getting worse and I wasn't treated.
    Why get attached to someone if it's going to end someday and hurt like hell?
    Why did it have to end?
  9. Hertz
    Dream 1:
    There is a man standing. He seems in his thirties, has a little bit of a beard. He's saying that he is a libertarian and thinks the government should abolish welfare programs. A woman is standing next to him, wearing jeans, about the same age. She turns to him, smiling, and tells him something in sign language. He replies in perfect sign language that he does not speak sign language.
    Dream 2:
    I'm in a park where there are other people. It's a summer day. I decide to lie on the ground on my back, to take a sort of nap.
    At some point everyone else gets up and they start reciting the american pledge of allegiance. I'm not american, but I decide to get up out of respect, but I don't put my hand on my chest like the others do.
    An old man approaches me and hits me with a pillow. I think it is because I did not do like the others. I hit him back with another pillow.
    Dream 1:
    Some part of me that is masculine and promotes self-reliance can't communicate with a feminine side. It has to find another way.
    Dream 2:
    Not doing like the others triggered a weak, harmless reaction. Perhaps in my waking life I need not worry too much about the consequences of doing things my way.
  10. Hertz
    I noticed that since I embraced homosexuality a lot more, my relationship with women has skyrocketed.
    At work, there are three young women, and they tend to orbit around me. Last time, one of them even said she wanted to kidnap me.
    For the first time in my life, I enjoy interacting with women and feel completely relaxed around them.
    In return, I can observe they enjoy my company a lot more, and even make steps to interact with me.
    Actually, the last time I had fun with women was when I was a very young child.
    What poisoned my relationship with women in the past is that I wanted them to give me the healthy love I never got from my mother, and I wanted to repay her overbearingness that I had mistaken for love. This constant expectation put a toll on any interaction with them.
    Women could feel this pressure, just by how I looked at them. In my eyes there was probably resentfulness and anger, and a craving for something they could never supply. They responded by closing themselves to me, which created a cycle. Once in a while, a girl would be interested in me, and it triggered nothing but coldness on my part.
    This was a totally unexpected side-effect of going gay, although it makes total sense since abandoning unhealthy expectations means there is no longer any psychic cost associated with interacting with women.
  11. Hertz
    My brother explains to me that the reason my mother died was through a succession of ailments due to venereal diseases.
    I'm inside the house I grew up in, with my brother. He is naked. He shows me a wall covered with live spiders, and explains to me that they serve as protection from the outside world.
    My mother's love is toxic in certain aspects.
    Spiders represent a possessive and overbearing mother.
    Addendum (11-02-2014):
    A part of me thought I owed great love for my mother, because I misinterpreted this overbearingness for love. This made me create a shield against my attraction for men. I tried in my life to find a female partner as a way to repay my mother's love by proxy, and I created a wall against homosexuality.
  12. Hertz
    I often hear the phrase "There are no coincidences".
    Some people believe that it's because we are part of a grand scheme, that the universe is watching over us.
    This is sometimes called synchronicity.
    The fact is, that we all live inside a narrative. It is a story in which we are a character. Narratives are given by our culture, how we were raised, what foundational myths were taught to us.
    When some event happens, it is very hard to not see meaning in it. That's because of the narrative we live in. A meaning will involuntarily pop out most of the time. A meaning will jump at us and we'll adopt it. Because a narrative is a way of interpreting events. We pick an interpretation that fits with our story. The narrative determines the interpretation.
    Sometimes, we can't find a meaning. We are faced with something meaningless. That's because we can't find a way to make it fit with the rest of our life story. The narrative we used so far is too limited, it can't handle the new data.
    Therapists and priests are asked to supply meaning in these cases. In politics, we ask "experts" who appear on tv.
    For any event, there is a narrative that can give it meaning. But so far it appears that no narrative can give meaning to all events.
    Religions claim to supply the grand narrative that can give meaning to any event. But even they will say that we can't know everything here, and must wait the next life to find all the answers.
    There is a patchwork of different overlapping narratives.
    It's also possible to construct a narrative to make sense of something. Some narratives were constructed to give meaning to a particular event, and were expanded from there.
    Foundational myths take a particular event, and give it a meaning, and this meaning is expanded upon and gives a narrative.
    Sometimes, foundational myths don't even need to have really happened.
    For any event it is possible to give a meaning ad hoc, and expand from there.
    Anything that is meaningless can be the beginning of a story that changes how we see the world.
  13. Hertz
    I'm walking on the street. In front of me there are policemen. They are positioned on the sidewalk, standing and looking. My thought is that they are waiting to intercept speeding cars. One of them, the closest to me, is a policewoman. Her hair is black and tied back in a ponytail. I feel intense admiration for her, for the fact that she is a professional. She is someone. I continue walking on the same sidewalk, carefully and uneasily avoiding to make any physical contact with them.
    I feel guilty. I think it is caused by living with my father. Subconsciously, I admire my father, his accomplishments, his career, but it makes me feel guilty. Guilty of not being the same.
    He is also unpredictable in his reactions to what I say about what I do. So interacting with him is a delicate matter.
    Movement is hampered, both by car and by foot, by the presence of the policemen. Living with him hampers my progress and direction in life.
  14. Hertz
    Part 1: I'm drinking with family and friends. I'm feeling a little bit drunk. As I'm leaving I kiss my mom on the cheeks, but her coldness makes me feel uneasy. I exit the house and approach a car where three people are sitting, almost ready to leave. One of them is an old friend of mine. They are in a good mood. I tell them about the party. They tell me they will party elsewhere. One of them asks me something I don't understand. I ask him: "You asked me what I drank?" He nods yes. I answer a flute of sparkling alcohol and a bottle of alcohol. I ask them where are they going to party. They reply "You said: "In which company will you party?" I'm surprised of the word company. I conclude it's a Freudian slip.
    Part 2: I'm in a car sitting in the front passenger seat. A friend of mine is driving. Irl we were intimate a few times recently. He owns small winter boots that fit my mom perfectly. He's been occasionally lending them to her. In my head I wonder if he couldn't just give them to her. I ask him to park in front of the house I grew up in. There is snow everywhere.
    I walk on the same street away from that house. I see a girl I had a relationship with in the past. She looks anguished, and I point it out to her. She sits down and talks about the fact that we are not physically close. She then tells me she is doing sports in college and her face lights up.
    Part 3: A guy tells me he is doing sports, and he is happy because he just got the permit to fight in MMA events. We are in a sports center inside a college. Next to us there is a room with a transparent wall, and I can see guys practicing brazilian jiu-jitsu. I become enthusiastic and point out these guys to the other guy, and tell him how I love this martial art. He doesn't share my enthusiasm.
    Part 4: I'm practicing jiu-jitsu with another guy. At one point I twist his leg to an impossible angle and it doesn't phase him. The spar is inconclusive, so he suggests we decide the winner using another method. The method he suggests is throwing a lolipop in the air, and trying to catch it. Depending on which end of the lolipop you grab you either win or lose.
    I'm pretty sure sports represented sex.
    I think in part 3 the guy is actually interested in me, showing his interest in a veiled manner. He mentions MMA as a way to convey the idea that he'd like to have sex with me, since sparring is reminiscent of homosexual intercourse.
    In my mind, gay sex has not been totally accepted. I approach it in an indirect way, through metaphors. I did have multiple gay sexual experiences irl, but in my mind it is still "censored".
  15. Hertz
    I can envision someone addicted to the feeling of freedom. The feeling of liberation. Unconsciously putting himself in a harsh, constraining situation, finding his way out, and doing it all over again, without ever moving forward.
    Someone in a straitjacket, struggling to remove it. When he manages to escape, he puts handcuffs on his wrists and ankles, frees himself, and so on.
    Just for the rush. The exhilaration. The high. A feeling ten thousand times greater than anything else he ever felt.
    Enslaved by the feeling of freedom.
    We watch magicians do it.
    In movies we take pleasure in watching characters destroy sources of oppression.
    Freedom p*rn.
  16. Hertz
    At one point I was following the Christian narrative.
    Now I'm following the Alice Miller narrative.
    There is also another narrative emerging. One related to being a productive citizen of a free society, free to pursue his own dreams.
    Society is very chaotic, in a good sense. You never know what will happen to you in 5 years. Unless you settle down pretty hard, with things that tie you down like mortgage, marriage, children... or illness.
    The lyrics of Journey's "Don't stop believing" capture this perfectly.
    Even this narrative is handed down by society.
    Can one create his own unique narrative? Or are narratives always socially constructed?
  17. Hertz
    1st part: I am back in therapy. It's the first session after a long while. My therapist seems discouraged about me. Disappointed. He talks to me with exasperation. I feel dread, and like I'm not supposed to be there. Like I made a terrible choice. I ask him if he is taking my return as a personal failure.
    2nd part: I have a dispute with my father. Later I start smoking again, after having stopped for many years. It makes me cough uncontrollably. I try to smoke more, in the hope my throat will get used to it, but I just cough more.
    Later I see a very old woman who is smoking too. She has yellowish skin, and a brown age spot on her right cheek. She is smiling, and looking behind her, to my left.
  18. Hertz
    I was talking on the phone to a woman friend of mine. Irl she teaches physics and maths, the same kind of position I'm aiming for right now. As we were talking, music was playing in the background coming from her side. The music would sometimes stop for a minute, and then continue. At one point I tried to recognize a song. I asked her if it was a song by the band "Sixteen" (irl I don't know such a band). She told me "No". I asked her why the music stopped sometimes. She told me it was because she had a problem with her credit card.
    Later I was with a male friend of mine. In the past he worked in a call center, as I'm doing right now irl. We were talking about Nietzsche, and for some reason at one point I said "Bietzsche" and he found that hilarious. He loved the word so much that he created a wikipedia page for "Bietzsche", as a sort of parody of the german philosopher.
  19. Hertz
    I have doubts about working as a teacher.
    I'm realizing the internship I'm doing will serve to validate whether I want to teach classes or not.
    Sometimes I enjoy tutoring, because it's so easy, especially when it's in a subject I'm very familiar with. It's easy money, and it's not boring.
    On the other hand, managing a group sounds like a pain in the a$$. A lot of it is about giving a performance. I'm not into performing in front of crowds. Not because it makes me nervous or whatever, but because I don't derive any pleasure from it at all. I don't enjoy being the center of attention. I think it even bothers me a little. Because I feel judged. Being in front of a crowd can be harrowing because people judge you.
    One time I went to a tango in the park event. Over there I met a girl who was totally ignorant about this type of dance, so I taught her the basics. At the end she was smiling and it was apparent that she had the satisfaction of having overcome a challenge. Even though I picked up on that, I didn't feel any satisfaction myself. My thought was: what's in it for me?
    I've had times when teaching someone one-to-one was satisfying because I had helped someone understand something. I don't know why that particular time I didn't feel anything good. Maybe I just didn't like the person.
    What if I don't like a group? Will it be selfless and draining? What if I don't like any group? What if I hate teaching to groups?
  20. Hertz
    1st part: A man was drowning at the bottom of a pool. Two guys pulled him out by pulling on a string. I was afraid the string would break, but the man emerged. He was a large black man. A third person approached him.
    2nd part: I see Albert Camus, but I don't remember what he was saying.
    Then I see two arabs sitting on a beach. They were saying that a revolution was needed in north america. One said that there were 46,000 arabs there that could start the revolution.
    1st part: I successfully acknowledged certain repressed emotions and characteristics. My link to them seems fragile, yet it holds on.
    2nd part: A part of me, at the frontier between conscious and unconscious, wants a big change. 46 is the year of my mother's birth.
    In the only Camus novel I read, a man ******s an arab, so another part of me is trying to stifle any change.
    Embracing instability. Going from one job to the next. Experimenting. Changing job when you're bored.
  21. Hertz
    I've been taking more clonazepram lately, because I have nothing to do, paradoxically.
    There are three sources of stress that are due to forms of pauperism: boredom, loneliness, poverty.
    What happens to those who experience all three?
    I live in a neighbourhood where there are a lot of retired people. They and I are the only people circulating in the sidewalks during the day. It's strange to be surrounded by much older people. Even my father with whom I live is more than forty years older than me. It probably has an effect on me.
    One of the retired people is a lady called Olga from Estonia I met in a strange circumstance. I was walking my dog around 11 PM. She was standing in front of a house, and she asked for my help. At first I thought she might be nuts, I was wary of getting involved in a crazy shenanigan. She explained to me she had spotted a door that had been left as trash near the sidewalk, and she wanted to bring it to her home. I let my guard down and decided to help her. Her car was parked there, and there was enough space inside. We tried lifting the door but it was just too heavy for us. We tried to find other options, when a couple walked by, and Olga asked them if they could help. The other guy and I managed to lift the door and put it in the car. After that she invited me to come to her house the next day. She told me it'd have to be before noon. We exchanged number. The day after, I woke up late. It was around 11 AM, I didn't feel like seeing people. Around 11:15 I forced myself to call her. I went to her house, which was a real museum. She was almost a hoarder. She told me she was from an aristocratic family which had to flee when the soviets took control during ww2. She was quite eccentric and she acknowledged it, and told me it was ok to be different.
    I took a picture of her and my dog.
  22. Hertz
    There's something inside me that blocks me from entering the professional world.
    I'm too chicken to enter the fray. That's a fact.
    Cycle of anxiety:
    It's always the same thing. I worry, I worry, I anguish until it's mental torture. To finally realize that I was afraid for nothing, it's fine.
    It's a cycle of self-abuse. Probably I like that, to go from anguish to relief.
    Anxiety grows, grows, for months, years, then falls abruptly, and it goes on.
    Like a balloon that expands until it pops.
    Like a cooker that builds pressure until it explodes.
    Then it's the epiphany. The lifeforce that starts flowing again. I swear I'll never go through this again. I swear I became more in tune with myself, I'll never travel anxiogenic paths ever again.
    But it's a cycle. There are gears inside me that turn, like in an old watch. It's a mechanism. A coping mechanism probably.
    The problem is not anxiety. It's the anxiety-relief cycle.
    Maybe there's no escape. Like the pleasure-pain cycle. Like the yin and yang.
    I wish I could pop the balloon whenever I want.
    My feeling: anxiey
    The associated thought: I want to fit in. I won't fit in until I'll have a career. If I don't find a career I'll never fit in and I'll feel miserable. I'll never be an adult. I'm a child-man.
    Alternate thoughts: ???
  23. Hertz
    0th part: I'm with someone. My dog arrives and his jaw is dislocated and hanging. I grab his jaw and try unsuccessfully to put it in place.
    1st part: I meet a mathematician friend of mine. He's a professional mathematician, who does serious research, has many publications etc, yet I notice I'm not intimidated by him, I'm just happy to see him. We hug. While my face is next to his hair, I smell shampoo. It's a marvelous smell, a little fruity. His hair is still a little wet.
    He presents me his wife, who is a lawyer and makes tons of money.
    He shows me around his apartment which is quite luxurious.
    I leave them. I end up in another apartment tower. I meet people who are looking for the mathematician. I look at the window and see three apartment towers. I tell them I'm not sure which one he lives in, but it's one of those threes.
    2nd part: I'm in the back seat of a car, with someone else. I realize I'm now forty. I tell the person next to me that I lived in the present between thirty-two and forty, yet I feel like I just woke up at forty. (I'm thirty-two now)
    3rd part: I'm in a hospital waiting room. I'm waiting to see a doctor. It's around 7:30 AM. It's very early yet it's not my turn yet.
    I hear a song in my head that says: "Messages are only sent to the weak" with a melody. It's just the same sentence over and over.
    I interpret that as meaning that I'm receiving some kind of message. I feel compelled to cut strips of paper into smaller pieces. On one of the pieces is the image of Peter Griffin.
    0th part: My instincts are unable to express themselves.
    1st part: indicates sexual curiosity and my need for some sensual stimulation
    2nd part: I don't feel in control. I feel as time is being wasted.
    3rd part: I need to get back to the flow of everyday life.
  24. Hertz
    There's something worst than not realizing a dream; it's having the wrong dream. Because whether you get what you "want" or not, both ways you're screwed.
    It's a pretty huge relief to no longer desire women romantically, and embrace homosexuality more. I look back at all those years of useless craving, I'm glad they're over.
    It's the second wrong dream I get out of. The last one was wanting to be a physicist.
    Lately, when I start anguishing about a project, I tell myself: "It might be a wrong dream again."
    So much useless anguish over stuff I later found was never for me.
    It's like craving to get in shoes that turn out not to fit.
  25. Hertz
    I wish I could be as open to people in real life as I am in here.
    What is a relationship outside of a therapy environment? Maybe it's different because life is not a therapy. Sometimes I feel my life is a long therapy. I heal this, I heal that. I'm free from this, from that.
    There is a wall between depression and health in society.
    Illness is walled in, confined to a place.
    How can I share my experience of depression to non-ill people?
    There is no other side of health. There is only personal experience. Personal history.
    I haven't integrated depression into my story. My life is made of disjointed parts, without a unifying narrative. A sort of Frankenstein.
    I can see that it's going to take my whole life to heal from what my parents did. When I'll be 72 I'll have dreams involving my parents. I want to get out of this Alice Miller hell of eternal healing.
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