Jocasta, Ἰοκάστη (theoriginalmilf) wrote in nevermore_past, @ 2012-07-25 10:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | oedipus |
Who: Oedipus [Narrative]
What: Oedipus stumbles out into his 'new' life now that Freud and Jean Martin Charcot have picked and pulled him apart.
Where: Charcot's lab/home
When: Paris, France
He sat for days in that room sick to his stomach as Freud and his posse re-wrote his story with their big mumbo jumbo. Fancy words and theories with degrees and people would eat it up like candy.
It twisted inside of him like a dry dishrag. Coarse, wrinkled, turning until cracks started to appear in the fabric, so stiff that when released it stayed in that molded position. At least putty was bendable, he could reform and reshape. As this dry cloth one could fold it out and still that stiffness was influenced by the twists. The only way to fluff it out was to wash, rinse, repeat.
Oedipus stared into the wall, that disgusting wall paper pattern growing pictures the longer he looked. By the time he'd emerged from the room his eyes had crossed and he tried to think of those shapes his mind had created instead of focusing on what Freud had done. Oedipus was the result of a mad science project now with little to no control of his life.
He weakly stumbled around Charcot's home (where they'd been for weeks), dizzy from the overdose. He had to get out, get some air, but he was a jumbled mess. Charcot sat him down on the couch asking questions that he only answered in shakes and nods. He was offered tea which didn't seem to calm his confused nerves.
These men had him in their hands along with other insane pets to their theories. He wondered for a moment how they fared or if he was just the favorite.