My Fracas
I am constantly being reminded of my recent 'fracas'. When I heave myself out of my chair I realise I have a bruised left hip, and a sprained left wrist. When I look in the shaving mirror I find I have a small bump above my left eye.
I assure you that I had done absolutely nothing wrong. But I was being pursued by two rather boisterous youngsters. And the mood was deteriorating. I thought I had thrown them off, but no; there they were again close on my heels. So I decided to tackle the front one and go for his legs. I threw myself with maximum force at that target, missed his legs but, flailing my arms rather futilely in his general direction, I fell to the ground and bumped my head.
Frustrated and rather sore, I found myself half awake and on my bedroom floor, in the narrow gap between my bed and the wall. I had dragged the duvet off the bed and had banged my head on the radiator. Oh dear! I crawled back onto the bed, pulled the duvet back on top and went straight back to sleep.
Normally, when awake, I am well controlled and rather passive, looking before leaping and thinking twice before making any irreversible decision. It is while asleep that I get into trouble. Not every night by any means, but five or six times a year. Twice I broke the great brass bedside lamp in Josie's guest room. Several times I kicked my companion. Once I hit her in the face with my fist. Nothing to do with her; my assailants are un-named younger males. She is unfortunately in the wrong place at the wrong time, looming over when I believe I am being attacked. My father has not figured in my dreams for decades. He died 40 years ago.
You might be inclined to suggest I try psychoanalysis. To see who these anonymous demons really are. I am disinclined. Ever since reading Jones' Life and Work of Sigmund Freud back in 1970, I have preferred not to tinker with my mind, in case the 'motivator' sprung out like a watch-spring and I could not coax back in.
One day I may go too far. One day I might submit to analysis.
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