Sigmund Freud, the founder of the psychoanalytic school, once said, "Dreams are the door of desire." If you've read his book The Interpretation of Dreams, you'll probably be hard pressed to forget the wonderful clip where Frud explains a woman who dreams that her sister's child dies just to see a man she has a crush on.

Two sisters who are snuggling up to each other, my sister has taken care of my sister since she was a child, my sister is obedient, and her marriage is also the man that my sister fancies, but there was a small episode from it, so that she once went against her sister's wishes, but finally obeyed her sister's choice, but she was not very happy after marriage. My sister's first child died of illness, and at the funeral, she saw the man who had made her fall in love at first sight, and many years later, when my sister had a second child, she dreamed that her little nephew died, and she said, "You know how I could curse my little nephew to die, he is so lovely." ”

However, our clever Frud said, "Yes, you didn't curse the child to die, you just wanted to see the man you liked again." The female patient suddenly realized and admitted this fact.

After summarizing a large number of clinical cases, Furd made the following statement about "Dream":

"Dreams are often set in your childhood, and sometimes they are where you have recently been. Fulfilling your inner desires in a twisted way that violates the moral law is the only way to the subconscious. ”

In ancient China, our wise ancestors intended to explore and uncover the mystery of dreams, the most famous is "Zhouzhuang Dream Interpretation", dreaming of something, is evil or auspicious, going out to travel must choose the auspicious day of the zodiac, committing Kabu, is to suffer disaster.

My father is a believer in Buddhism, understands feng shui, gossip of the five elements, and likes to fiddle with strange things when he has nothing to do. My eldest aunt (who passed away when I was in junior high school) believed in Guanyin Bodhisattva, and when she was a child, she would play with her sisters at her house during the New Year's holidays, and she would always hear that she went to the Guanyin Temple to worship the Bodhisattva. And my third aunt (who passed away the year before last) is a believer in Jesus, and she does not believe that the gods will bless her, so she will not go to the grave of her ancestors on the eleventh day of Qingming and the lunar calendar, and she said that only God who was crucified for the atonement of people can save her. In my hometown, there is a temple known as the head city god of the thirteen provinces, and there will be major folk sacrifices on February 8 of the lunar calendar every year.

All of this has cast a mystery over my young mind, and I have also become fond of something that is difficult to fathom – dreams, which directly satisfy all my childhood curiosity to this day.

Therefore, I have read a lot of Zhou Zhuang's dream interpretation symbols, but since I came into contact with Freud's "The Interpretation of Dreams" and his psychoanalytic theory, I often use this methodology to analyze my clearly visible dreams.

And what I'm going to tell is a dream I had in my senior year, clear and meaningful.

Before talking about this dream, it is necessary for me to tell you what happened the day before that night.

That was the third time I went to visit Mr. L, and the meeting was originally scheduled for 7 o'clock in the evening, because Mr. L had something to do temporarily, so it was postponed to 8 o'clock, and I saw a message from Mr. L on the door of the counseling room:

XX：

I called you and found that the mobile phone number you left was missing, and I met in the consultation room at eight o'clock on time.

Teacher L

I was wearing a black tracksuit with red stripes that day, with a slim upper body, and fat sweatpants on the lower body almost dragging to the ground, with my hands in my pockets, looking at me with disdain, ready to leave.

Suddenly, he turned around and quickly tore the note off, twisted it into a ball, and left.

On the way, I only heard the harsh sound of "bang", and I suddenly realized that I had torn the note to shreds.

Why should I shred the strip of paper? I regretted it again and began to think crankily again.

Why should I rip it off, I'm just going to tear it off and throw it away, just to shred it.

I could have stopped tearing it, but why should I shred it?

My mind kept spinning around with the question, as if I had entered a closed room, and I couldn't feel a single light. It seems that a little more flour, a little more fire, just listening to Peng's voice, can blow my head into memory fragments.

It's not Mr. L's actions, it's my fault. Because he was not at fault, it was my fault that he could have called me to inform me, and I underwrote my phone number, which prevented him from notifying me in time, so I put myself in such an embarrassing situation.

If I were a normal person, I wouldn't think much about it, and why would I want to shred the note?

"Am I really not normal?" The thought popped into my head and I suddenly realized that I was frightened by my young self deep inside.

I found out why I wrote one less bit on the phone, and I was really starting to feel a little out of order, and my memory was starting to mess up again. That's why I wrote one less person on my phone number.

When I realized this, the tears of "brushing" went straight down. However, I desperately want to be a normal person, a normal person. At least look alive, like a normal person.

Teacher L didn't come, and I happened to go for a run in the playground during this time. Then I met me, and I was the other her in my heart, and she was jogging calmly, as if nothing had happened, but her heart was uneasy. Looking at its stubborn thin body, turning around the playground, an indescribable worry.

Teacher L's meeting today was very unpleasant, although he repeatedly explained that he could not come because the school teacher skills competition was extended late and he went to dinner with the teachers. When he called me, he found that the phone I had left was missing a number, so he wrote a note and stuck it on the door. Of course, this is also a life that ordinary people like me should have.

But I blushed and said, "It's okay, I made a mistake."

I was stuck in a quagmire of self-blame again, and I couldn't get out. In an instant, I understood my worries, her politeness, her well-behavedness, her understanding, her forbearance, her unspeakable pain, etc., complex emotions. I was panting and sweating profusely when I just ran, and my face was red at the moment, and I couldn't speak, which became the best cover.

In my tumbling inside, I heard me say clearly, "What's the matter, it's the last time anyway." ”

I have always hated the teacher who is like a monk with "mom cancer", and I can't stand Teacher L's self-absorbed speech for twenty minutes regardless of my willingness, in which I just respond with onomatopoeia such as "Enhuom" and nod appropriately.

However, I can pretend that nothing happened. She stared at Teacher L seriously but didn't want to say a word, which made me feel funny, her pure and quiet appearance can always fool many people.

Mr. L's conversation at the moment was very boring, even though I had also studied psychology and had been studying it all the time. But I don't agree with him treating me this way, and I'm just a beginner, I'm always impatient with such visitors, and I'm not happy to communicate with them, which is why I have to come to the counseling room to study.

I was probably completely disappointed, because I had vaguely realized that this time I had failed to save myself. Then I wrote that she should have come to the realization that no one could save her, if she herself did not want to. Even if she didn't know how to save herself.

However, Teacher L was no longer able to gain my trust, and she didn't want to say or listen to any more words, so I had to listen to the flow of time and wait for Teacher L's signal to end.

Psychological problems do not form in a day, and they cannot be solved all at once. I've seen a lot of cases like mine, and only three times Teacher L slammed the door shut, and let her leave with tears in her heart.

But what can be done if you don't let her go? She was already tired and began to give up.

I'm puzzled, whether it's good or bad, all of this is just the beginning.

It was the day after the meeting, and I decided to go to a psychology major. I checked the curriculum of the psychology major on the official website of the college and selected three classes, which now seem to be of epoch-making significance to me.

It represents three completely different choices that I will make. Although I was vaguely aware at the time, I had no idea what I was about to do, I just heard a voice from the depths of my soul that would lead me deeper into my soul.

One of these three lessons is about neuropsychology, one is about mental conversational conversation skills, and the third is about practice. What is the specific name, it should be something that can be remembered by normal people, after all, it is a carefully selected course to be learned, but I ignored it directly at the time. If I go to check or browse the website of our college now, I can still get it, but I searched in my brain and didn't find their specific names, so it doesn't matter, what I want to tell is how I wrote this scene five years ago, and then I'm making supplementary explanations to make it easier to understand my state of mind at that time.

Memory is in a physiology. I was wearing a gray cartoon beauty sweatshirt with a black slacks underneath. I often carry a red travel backpack on my back and walk through the library canteen dormitory, and people often ask me curiously what such a big bag contains. Actually, that day, I only had a book of mental conversation practices and techniques that I had borrowed from the library not long ago, a notebook, and a pen.

Teacher K is a slightly chubby beauty, kind-faced, loves to talk and laugh, and has black and bright hair, which makes me very envious. She has painted light makeup, and her complexion looks well-proportioned and rarely fair.

Today, she is mainly talking about the nerve pathways of brain signaling. When I was in junior high school, I had a special love for living things, and the neurotransmission of the brain, synapses, which are strangely shaped and magical substances, is still deeply etched in my mind.

"Who can draw the way synaptic connections are transmitted on the board? Those of us who study psychology know that the way of graphics is the most conducive to the deep processing of memory. This is the reason why mind maps are so popular, and many training courses on the market use this principle to teach mind maps to help students memorize. You can also try to do ......".

"Which student would like to come up and draw for everyone?"

There was silence under the podium.

"If no one wants to come up, then I'll call for a seat? Which student would like to come up and draw it for everyone? ”

There was a deeper silence under the podium.

"The student from the bottom of the second row, come on, draw it for everyone." Teacher K, scanning the circle with her gaze, no one raised their hand to answer, and then she fell on one person.

As for whether that classmate was a boy or a girl, his memory was blurred.

However, five years ago, when I wrote this, I heard Teacher K asking me to answer this question, and my heart suddenly became nervous, and I saw her walking up to the stage in a muffled voice, holding a chalk and looking at her head. I couldn't help but look at her embarrassed look and jumped up to help her.

But I couldn't get used to seeing her look so cowardly, but every time I saw her pretending to be innocent, my heart was also anxious and began to hesitate.

"You're not from this class, and you look naïve. Which major? “

"Hmm. of the Institute of Construction. ”

"You're here."

"String Lessons"

"Okay, you go down"

……

……

Using other people's pain as a talking point, no matter how much I can convince myself not to speculate on other people's motives with the most malicious intentions, I think this has also caused me a second injury, so how can I believe in the person who says that we have professional ethics and the principle of confidentiality.

Although I didn't expect much when Mr. L said this, those who understand understand the twists and turns.

At this moment, I clearly saw that my tears were rolling in my eyes and being swept back, and there was no doubt that Mr. K did not mention a single word about my targeted language.

Because she just said that we recently came to the counseling room with an emotional breakdown girl, for her, my consistent advocacy is self-values, psychoanalysis, behaviorism, etc., in humanism, in which humanism can be the core.

As an amateur psychology major, I was immediately ashamed. The overwhelming sense of loss that made me re-examine the meaning of my month-long stay in the counseling room, and I don't know how it would have helped me if I hadn't graduated from the industry.

Admittedly, I still learned the most from my middle school years that a person's suffering is self-inflicted and has nothing to do with others.

I didn't like to go to class, I often skipped class, and she never missed a class in college. But her academic performance is not outstanding, and she does not like to speak, and she has been unknown for four years, but she has never failed a subject. Most teachers have no impression of such a girl, and they won't embarrass her after graduation.

As the semester drew to a close, I finally made up my mind to quit my job at the counseling desk. I sent a text message to Mr. L, hoping to talk to him, and I am grateful for his teachings in this short period of time, and I would also like to give some of my opinions and complaints. Then I was in a very comfortable mood, I met her again in the playground, and the moment we looked at each other, we just smiled slightly and nodded, I don't know when we had this tacit understanding.

In fact, as soon as I finished writing this paragraph, I heard the sound of my personality tearing, and my memory began to blur again, or I was unwilling to remember the things that really happened and that would affect my future decisions.

After the first class, where did the second and third classes go? So what's the real story?

In the second class, I was taking a class on mental conversation skills, and I met another teacher Q, and I don't remember what she was talking about.

It's not because of the chaos, but that day, I was sitting by the window on the west side of the classroom, and I saw Teacher L walking through the corridor, and my attention was all from the class, I couldn't believe my eyes, how could there be such a coincidence in the world? My brain was so immersed in the session in the counseling room that it began to tamper with the content of the session with impunity, just to calm the little demon of emotions.

But I vaguely remember this conversation:

"You're not from this class, and you look naïve. Which major?

"Hmm. of the Institute of Construction. ”

"You're here."

"String Lessons"

……

……

Then there was a short and fat girl, standing in the first row of the west row of the classroom, and said, "I have low self-esteem since I was a child, because I am not good-looking, don't laugh, I really feel like this......"

Teacher Q walked to the front seriously and said, "I'm a little short-sighted." I don't know how I look at you, so I can't say much. ”

Then, she looked at the girl seriously, thought for a while, and said, "Your appearance is indeed not easy to describe with words such as good-looking, pretty, and fortitude, but I can't think of a word to describe it accurately, and when I think of it, I'll tell you." You sit down first. ”

"I thought about it, ordinary, you look ordinary".

……

……

Her gentle tone, friendly attitude, and personality charm make people feel like a spring breeze.

But at that time, I felt that I was that girl, and I was not that girl, because I was not as good as that girl. She dared to say, "I have had low self-esteem since I was a child, because I am not good-looking...... and I can't say anything.

I want to say, I'm really stupid, but a voice said to me, you're so smart.

I want to say, I don't like to laugh, but there's a voice in me, and you look so good when you smile.

I want to say, I don't like to talk, but a voice said to me, you have such a nice voice.

……

……

I want to say, I don't like it, but there's always a voice that's against me. I enjoyed the praise of this voice, but I couldn't deserve it, and I couldn't use it to improve my life, so I began to deny my good, and I would rather throw them into the black hole of memory than never be discovered by me.

Then, I started standing outside the black hole and crying again because I had nothing left.

So, I couldn't speak.

It seems that this passage is also seen from Jimmy's album.

The third class was the most serious I listened to. Because he made me make the final decision. I strenuously denied this fact at the time, so now my memory is skewed.

It seems to say that when he (or his classmate) graduated and worked, he signed a tripartite agreement, which was a very remote place, and when he went there, he didn't think it was what he thought, and then let him go. Later, he (or his classmate) took the Beijing civil service exam, which was too far away from home, and for other reasons, and later lost a lot of money, and then he became a teacher. He said that you have to choose what you like and like what you choose. Exams are what students are best at, and it should not be difficult to take the exam for a job in the system, and to study the books of administration and argumentation carefully, and to take the civil service exam. Work is not difficult.

Well, I admit that for these three lessons, I only wrote what I felt needed, or rather, I only remembered what I wanted to hear, and if I could, I would like to go back to his class and see how far my memory has deviated.