A Struggle With The Subconscious

The glaring presence of the subconscious had never been apparent to me this strongly till now. I do not deny its impact on our thoughts, actions or dreams. The one time I had a dream about the handbag I was dying to buy? Or the times I call someone else’s name out by mistake because I have been thinking of that person? Or the times my fingers automatically type out a name on the search bar on Facebook? Sure, that’s my subconscious trying to sneak into the awareness, reminding me of its cursed, evil powers. These appearances however, are usually furtive, and more importantly, harmless.

But what do you do when the visits become more frequent, more pressing, more threatening? The subconscious here gets qualified at the highest level of disguising: shrewdly sheathed, yet utterly naked once placed under the sharp eye of introspection. A clever pantomime is staged, with elaborate acts and scenes, all revolving around a central theme, a central emotion, a central character. Once you catch hold of one clue, the whole plot unravels smoothly, and you can see your subconscious standing at a distance and mocking you, reminding you who the master really is.

How else would you explain the visits by X in my dreams every single night, despite my close vigil on my thoughts during the day? How else would you explain the ambiguous remnants of thoughts relating to X in my head, everytime I snap out of a zoned out phase? And how else would you explain the recurrent referral of X in almost every piece written by me, despite my attempts to filter and cross out sentences related to X? Thanks to my subconscious, everything I write has a shadow of a bitter, helpless female lamenting over a loss.

The rest of the things don’t bother me as much Mr. Subconscious, but please don’t jeopardize my writing. It really is one of the most precious things I have.

You know I can very well put you to a projective test and derive enough material to write a thesis on your hooliganism, don’t you? But you probably also know that I won’t. I’m too scared to.

Subconscious: 1. Me: 0