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Acid trip with Freud: Penis in the sky

“All elongated objects, sticks, tree-trunks, umbrellas (on account of the opening, which might be likened to an erection), all sharp and elongated weapons, knives, daggers, and pikes, represent the male organ.”

In Freud’s words:
Back in Jung’s van we were listening to Led zeppelin as we dropped acid with Wilhelm Fliess and a girl called Martha which I had a crush on. About two hours later, the acid hit. I was silent for a while and started asking myself questions like, “Who am I?” and “What is fundamental?” this led me to radical deconstructions of existence, everything I thought could be abstracted one step further: time, space, personality, and causation all sucked into this hole which lacked any reference point. My consciousness was a whirlwind of thoughts without context. I felt my ego dying and my first insight was: “Smoking is indispensable if one has nothing to kiss.” So I kept a cigar in my mouth at all times. Jung and Wilhelm were bothered by the smell of my cigar but I didn’t give a shit, besides it was my van.

An hour later I’ve seen myself outside the van with Martha and we were walking up the hills. She is constantly afraid that she cannot find a place for her foot, and she is glad that her dress doesn’t get caught anywhere, and that she is able to climb it so respectably. As she climbs she is carrying a big branch in her hand, really like a tree, which is thickly studded with red flowers; a spreading branch, with many twigs. With this is connected the idea of cherry-blossoms, but they look like fully opened camellias, which of course do not grow on trees. As she is descending, she first has one, then suddenly two, and then again only one. When she has reached a stable ground the lower flowers have already begun to fall. She sees me combing — as she would like to put it — just such a tree, that is, with a piece of wood I am scraping thick bunches of hair from it, which hang from it like moss. I look over to see Carl and Wilhelm breaking and pulling apart such branches and playing swords with them like knights from the renaissance. Martha stops and asks me whether what they were doing is right. I couldn’t answer that moral question since my ego was long dead by then. So I just said the first thing that popped up in my mind to make me seem intelligent: “The liberty of the individual is no gift of civilization”. She stood in silence for 5 minutes (if I estimated time correctly) and asked me how it is possible to transplant such branches in her own garden. I embraced her, whereupon she asks me what I’m thinking of, whether it is permissible to embrace her in such a manner. I said that there is nothing wrong in it, that it is permitted. I then declare my willingness to go with her into the other garden, in order to show her how to transplant such branches in the ground. And then I said something to her which both of us did not quite understand: “Besides this I need three meters (later she says: square meters) or three fathoms of ground.” It seems as though I was asking her for something in return for my willingness, as though I had the intention of reimbursing myself in her garden, as though I wanted to evade some law or other, to derive some advantage from it without causing her an injury. She smiled and said “Okay”. My favorite word from that day on was “Okay”.

Words are often treated as things on acid and thus undergo the same combinations, displacements, and substitutions. Steep inclines, ladders, hills, stairs, and going up or down them, are symbolic representations of the sexual act. So I wasn’t sure if we were going up or down the hills or having sex, or both. Twenty minutes later (or at least what I felt were twenty minutes) I had two thoughts while we were laying on the grass: I had no fear of death, though I felt fortunate to have been given a portion of this life to do with as I please. Second thought was that I have realized that junkies are masters of us ordinary men, in knowledge of the mind, because they drink at streams which we have not yet made accessible to science.

As I laid in perfect bliss on the grass, marveling at the implications of my insights, I saw a big great penis in the sky, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

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Philosophers lives matter. For existential purposes and failure in getting rich, I am overclocking my liver to refurbish Filosophy. A page for all and none.

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