These are my memories of "external" events. It also, what will happen now
- much more strong, although not quite clear images. It was a fall from
stairs, for example, and another fall - on the sharp corner of the plate. I remember the pain and
the blood, the doctor stitching the wound on my head, the scar from her was
noticeable, even when I was in senior high school. Mother told,
once I crossed the bridge over rynskie waterfalls leading into Neuhausen.
The maid caught me just in time, I slipped one leg under
the fence and here-here was ready to slide down. This indicates,
apparently, the unconscious the desire to commit suicide or
the inevitable resistance to living in this world.
At the time I was disturbed by vague night terrors. Sometimes I heard
someone walking around the house. Here was heard the incessant noise of the Rhine
waterfalls, and close to it was dangerous. People were drowned, their bodies washed out
on the rocky slopes. Near the cemetery Sexton was digging tirelessly
pit, throwing out piles of fresh brown earth. Solemn looking people,
dressed in long black robes and an unusually high hats, shod in
shiny black boots, carried a black coffin. My father was there in his
clerical clothing, he said something sonorous voice. Women
cried. I was told that someone was buried in this pit. Some people
I saw before, suddenly disappeared. Then said that they were buried
and that Jesus Christ took them to himself.
My mother taught me a prayer that I had to read every
evening. I was glad to do it, because prayer comforted me in the face
vague images of the night.
Resposta wings,
o Merciful Jesus,
And take Your chick.
If the devil wants to capture him,
Led the angels sing:
This child, must remain intact!
"Her Jesus" was a nice, benevolent gentleman (just like Herr
Wegenstein from the castle), he was honorable, rich, influential, he defended
young children at night. Why he should be winged like a bird was
a mystery that I didn't care. Far more important and suggestive
meditation had compared the children with Chicks that "Her Jesus" obviously
"took" reluctantly, like bitter medicine. It was hard to understand. But I
I immediately realized that the devil loves Chicks and need not give him to swallow
them. So "Her Jesus", although it was not the taste, still ate
so they didn't get the devil. So far my thoughts was
comforting, but after I learned that "Her Jesus" likewise "adopted" to
other people and what "adoption" meant putting them in a pit in the ground.
Grim analogy was the reason for my distrust of the Christ. He is not
seemed to me a big good-natured bird and has become associated with a sinister
black people in Church robes, tall hats and shiny black
shoes, carrying a black coffin.
These considerations led to the first conscious trauma. One hot
summer in the afternoon I sat alone, as usual, the road in front of the house and played in the sand.
The road climbed up to the forest, and I could clearly see what was happening
upstairs. I saw descending from the forest of strange man in a wide hat and
long dark garb. He looked like a man, but was dressed as a woman.
The man slowly approached, and I saw that it was indeed a man,
dressed in special, reaching to the heels of black clothes: When I
became filled with fear, which turned into deadly terror as soon as
scary thought of recognition flashed in my head: "It's a Jesuit". Shortly
before that I overheard a conversation between a father and stayed with us the priest.
The conversation touched on dirty activities of the Jesuits. On polurazobrannom,
polysporina tone of my father's remarks I realized that the "Jesuits" is something
extremely dangerous, even for my father. Actually I, of course, and
had no idea about what the Jesuits, but I was familiar with similar
the word "Jesus" from my little prayer.
People coming down the road, evidently dressed, I thought,
why women's clothing. He may have bad intentions.
Horrified, I rushed to the house, quickly ran up the stairs and hid under
the beam in a dark corner of the attic. Don't know how long I sat there, but should
to be long, because when I dared to descend to the first floor and
cautiously put his head out of the window, the black man was not in sight. More
some days I sat at home, numb with fear. And even when I again
started to play on the road, the wooded top of the hill remained for me a subject
vigilant concern. Later I, of course, understood that a black man was
ordinary Catholic priest.
Approximately the same time - I can't say with absolute
precision, preceded if it is the case with the Jesuit - I had one of
I remembered the first dream, which was to occupy me for a lifetime.
I was then little more than three years.
- much more strong, although not quite clear images. It was a fall from
stairs, for example, and another fall - on the sharp corner of the plate. I remember the pain and
the blood, the doctor stitching the wound on my head, the scar from her was
noticeable, even when I was in senior high school. Mother told,
once I crossed the bridge over rynskie waterfalls leading into Neuhausen.
The maid caught me just in time, I slipped one leg under
the fence and here-here was ready to slide down. This indicates,
apparently, the unconscious the desire to commit suicide or
the inevitable resistance to living in this world.
At the time I was disturbed by vague night terrors. Sometimes I heard
someone walking around the house. Here was heard the incessant noise of the Rhine
waterfalls, and close to it was dangerous. People were drowned, their bodies washed out
on the rocky slopes. Near the cemetery Sexton was digging tirelessly
pit, throwing out piles of fresh brown earth. Solemn looking people,
dressed in long black robes and an unusually high hats, shod in
shiny black boots, carried a black coffin. My father was there in his
clerical clothing, he said something sonorous voice. Women
cried. I was told that someone was buried in this pit. Some people
I saw before, suddenly disappeared. Then said that they were buried
and that Jesus Christ took them to himself.
My mother taught me a prayer that I had to read every
evening. I was glad to do it, because prayer comforted me in the face
vague images of the night.
Resposta wings,
o Merciful Jesus,
And take Your chick.
If the devil wants to capture him,
Led the angels sing:
This child, must remain intact!
"Her Jesus" was a nice, benevolent gentleman (just like Herr
Wegenstein from the castle), he was honorable, rich, influential, he defended
young children at night. Why he should be winged like a bird was
a mystery that I didn't care. Far more important and suggestive
meditation had compared the children with Chicks that "Her Jesus" obviously
"took" reluctantly, like bitter medicine. It was hard to understand. But I
I immediately realized that the devil loves Chicks and need not give him to swallow
them. So "Her Jesus", although it was not the taste, still ate
so they didn't get the devil. So far my thoughts was
comforting, but after I learned that "Her Jesus" likewise "adopted" to
other people and what "adoption" meant putting them in a pit in the ground.
Grim analogy was the reason for my distrust of the Christ. He is not
seemed to me a big good-natured bird and has become associated with a sinister
black people in Church robes, tall hats and shiny black
shoes, carrying a black coffin.
These considerations led to the first conscious trauma. One hot
summer in the afternoon I sat alone, as usual, the road in front of the house and played in the sand.
The road climbed up to the forest, and I could clearly see what was happening
upstairs. I saw descending from the forest of strange man in a wide hat and
long dark garb. He looked like a man, but was dressed as a woman.
The man slowly approached, and I saw that it was indeed a man,
dressed in special, reaching to the heels of black clothes: When I
became filled with fear, which turned into deadly terror as soon as
scary thought of recognition flashed in my head: "It's a Jesuit". Shortly
before that I overheard a conversation between a father and stayed with us the priest.
The conversation touched on dirty activities of the Jesuits. On polurazobrannom,
polysporina tone of my father's remarks I realized that the "Jesuits" is something
extremely dangerous, even for my father. Actually I, of course, and
had no idea about what the Jesuits, but I was familiar with similar
the word "Jesus" from my little prayer.
People coming down the road, evidently dressed, I thought,
why women's clothing. He may have bad intentions.
Horrified, I rushed to the house, quickly ran up the stairs and hid under
the beam in a dark corner of the attic. Don't know how long I sat there, but should
to be long, because when I dared to descend to the first floor and
cautiously put his head out of the window, the black man was not in sight. More
some days I sat at home, numb with fear. And even when I again
started to play on the road, the wooded top of the hill remained for me a subject
vigilant concern. Later I, of course, understood that a black man was
ordinary Catholic priest.
Approximately the same time - I can't say with absolute
precision, preceded if it is the case with the Jesuit - I had one of
I remembered the first dream, which was to occupy me for a lifetime.
I was then little more than three years.
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