How He was Picked - internationalpsychoanalysis.net

How He was Picked

Son. Dream this. How he was picked, Wolfgang, the one who put you into
me, I mean. Not how I picked him. Then, it felt to me, “How he was picked,”
as if I sleepwalked into him. No, as if I were driven to him.

But now, in a dream ether, I am more awake to myself. And I can
dream more truthfully to you.

Son, you will feel that with each dream -- as you grab these dreams,
as you snatch them from the ether, as you are prepared to receive me --
each dream will be more truthful, purer than the previous. For you to dream
the core truths in the beginning would be nightmarish. You will dream truth
in layers, each pealed to reveal more. And my dreams are to instruct you,
in woman-finding, in woman-loving, in being woman-loved.

I have sent early dreams of how you were got. Also true. Now truer.

(Truth in dream-ether comes to me, but it is not so harsh. I am
beyond hurt.)

Do not be harsh in your judgments of me. Listen. Watch. Dream.

Zeus transformed himself out of lust, into a swan upon glimpsing and
desiring Leda. Spartan King Tyndareus, her mortal husband, was no
impediment to Zeus. The rape of Leda, many call it. And for Zeus-swan, it
was rape. But for Leda? Rape is the title by moralistic men. But look at
DaVinci’s Leda and the Swan; she embraces Zeus whose eyes are trained
upon her, even as she gazes lovingly on her hatching children. Or
Michelangelo, whose Leda wraps her leg around Zeus, gathering him

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tightly into her as they gaze into each other. From this, came Helena, the
most beautiful of woman.

A barren Leda would understand the desire to be in fruition, to have a
god impregnate, a powerful one, who dismisses boundaries of society, who
has spawned many demigods, who will spawn her demigod child.

My son.

Dream of Tamar. Empty-wombed Tamar, twice-widowed woman,
who disguises herself as harlot to lure Judah. Judah, the lion mounts upon
her, sexes her.

I have told you Tamar’s story in life. But you did not know that I was
telling your story (did you?), my yearning. To the moralists, Judah is a
whore monger, a loin leaper, an impulse ridden crouching lion, ready to
leap.

But for Tamar, Judah is the lion to pounce, mount her, make her
mother of lion cubs. Romulus and Remus (whelped of Mars) sucked of
wolf-teats, built Rome. So she would suckle lions to build ... Judea.

This I sought -- only for you -- to create a lion of you.

And to create a lion, I sought a lion. Yes, others saw Wolfgang as
beneath me (when I sought to be beneath him); yes, he was an animal who
could not be restrained (although when I emptied him, I tamed him); and
yes, yes, he was not sweet, as gentle Henri.

But he was fierce. He would dominate. He would burst society’s rules.
He knew I wanted a Jew? He would feign Jew to lure me.

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People pitied me for my bruises, my broken ribs, shattered wrist, gifts
of Wolfgang. But each blow showed me, proved me his power, the power I
wanted to transfer to you. I felt his power.

Pity me not. I sought a lion. I lured him. He mounted me.
I made you.
I would have a life time with you after Wolfgang would be gone. (For,
I knew I would discard him, dismiss him, having gotten what I needed from
him, this splash of germ plasm that helped make you.) Then, a lifetime to
sculpt your power so you would be a king among men, a David.
The moment before he came into me (Listen hard son, as difficult as
this may be. Look at this dream. Hear me.) I cast my arms over my head,
over the pillows, head thrown back, throat bared, and hoarsely whispered,
“Take me.” And he, he became enraged and more powerful, he came
volcanic and erupted.
And you I had.
I had you.

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