Freud hit me again last night. I was thinking of 3 different issues in the past couple of

days related to my study and work. One is about Death and Utopia, the second is about the transition from the big storyline to the sub Utopian storyline in the novel I am working on now, and the last is the two pages creative work I have to submit to my psychoanalysis class next Friday.

Before I went to bed, I had no clue, my conscious was blank, with no idea of what I am going to do with these 3 matters. I guess, the level of tension in my unconscious was high. It seized the chance of the night, the absentee of the ego. It woke me up, as if the little gene in the back of my head had all of the solution and wanted to spell it out. I wasn’t aware of that, and with a soar throat and tiresome, all I wanted was to sleep again. But the little gene whispered his wisdom in my ears, the solution for all the three:

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