Who is crazy

annibale By annibale, 21st May 2012 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/3kyt4fm3/
Posted in Wikinut>Humour>Funny Stories

who can say nowadays of never having crossed that invisible line that separates the normality from madness? We must pay much attention.
Only why I run at breakneck speed from my house to the square of my town ( Cittadella), and from the square to my house shouting loud : " Patroclooo...Patroclooo..., " hopping with a pinwheel hat on my head, some medical colleagues have dared to call myself " a little odd"

Who is crazy?

who can say nowadays of never having crossed that invisible line that separates the normality from madness? We must pay much attention.
Only why I run at breakneck speed from my house to the square of my town ( Cittadella), and from the square to my house shouting loud : " Patroclooo...Patroclooo..., " hopping with a pinwheel hat on my head, some medical colleagues have dared to call myself " a little odd"
Where have we arrived? Where has the treachery of the people arrived?




So, because of the gossips, I had to face a psychoanalytic therapy with doctor Quadrangolo of Padova, a famous psychoanalist.
After a few sessions I realized that the whole therapy of Quadrangle defined as "positive reinforcement of the ego, of the self, and of the we" only consisted in repeating every 15-20 minutes the exhortation "Come ... Come ... You can make it. Ush ... ish ... Come on. "
However, after about three years of this therapy, when I began to feel a little better, I received a call from a colleague who made me regress and fall into a sea of distress.


It was the Dr. Paolin, my colleague and rival since the time of the degree, who, after a long time of silence, suddenly has called to tell me that we would have to meet each other in order to discuss certain things that concerned me.
Things of which all my colleagues and even my superiors were talking about and that concerned me.
- What is it? - I asked worried.


- Well, you know, nothing serious, some things must not to be dealt by phone, you know, politics ... -.
- At least tell me the object of contention-I replied.
- Nothing serious, the usual things, we meet and talk .-.
- When we meet? Do you want me to come to you immediately? I have my car ready-I said more and more worried, with throbbing temples and two drops of cold sweat running down my forehead.


- Today and tomorrow I am busy, but surely we will meet in the future. Sorry, now I have not more time, I have to hang .-.
I immediately began to tremble: what could it be? What had I ever done?
Since that moment all the events, all the little events of the day began to acquire arcane mysterious and sinister meanings.
Going to work became a nightmare. While doing the rounds of the sick in hospital, if I turned around suddenly, I saw 30 or 40 colleagues in the white coat that made me the tongue. Also the patients whispered and laughed at me.


-He 's an idiot-I seemed to hear as I passed near the beds of the sick.
Fortunately Dr. Prolin, a very good fellow, gave me a friendly greeting and reassured me by saying that everything was fine, but then, treacherously, He pulled a green apple at my face, or so It seemed to me. Everything, every detail seemed threatening and throwed me strange messages, the whole universe was tilting dangerously and remained hung in the air. I sought refuge requiring electroshock-therapy, but I was severely reprimanded by the Greens and environmentalists. -Wasting so much energy just to change the course of my thoughts? But I say? How much selfish? And then I did not think of how much pollution would have resulted from that? -.


I withdrew into myself a prey to guilt, then I decided to try to have the treatment using my means. So I connected the elecctrodes to the dynamo of my bicycle for the therapy electrodes to Dynamo . Unfortunately, when the therapy began to be active ( the temples began to freeze and the thoughts were arrested) I was invariably seized with cramps simultaneously to the two legs, and I had to desist from cycling. I then thought to what might be causing all my problems and I got there: The difficult relationship with my father was my problem.

My father sadly had died some years ago, but the internalized father figure in my mind kept giving me problems. I absolutely had to make peace with my father, but how? My old man had already come to find me in a dream for two or three times just to tell me that there was nothing in the afterlife (worms only) and to urge me to spend the rest of my life to gather and collect the caps of beers and of soda pop because, knowing me, he knew that I could not do better. At my request to give me at least the lottery numbers he answered, grinning, numbers above 90, which I never played, but I was told, Those numbers mysteriously have come out in the unbelief general. However, despite these previous meetings, the problem remained: how to meet him again?

I could not force him to appear in a dream of mine when I wanted. I decided that I, myself, had to appear in a dream to him. Having said that, that night, I went in a dream of his. As I entered I found my father reading a book of dogmatic theology with the expression increasingly annoyed. He saw me, looked at me without sympathetically. But this time, before he could speak, I threw myself on my knees at his feet and I said: - Forgive me father, we must riappacificarci. Finally I realized that all the reproaches that you did to me were correct. When you said that the company would cut my legs you were right. You wanted to fortify when you said that I was a clumsy and awkward and that absolutely you did not want I attended the fairer sex

. Now I finally understand. Forgive me father? -.
My father looked at me strangely and said solemnly: - I'll cut the so-called. - I rushed towards him and I hugged him.
-I knew I could count on you-I said with emotion. We were embraced for several minutes and at the end we decided by common agreement that in future we would spend much more of our spare time to work one on one side and the other on the other side of the world.
When my father woke up I was healed.

Tags

Father, Madness, Psycological Dysfunction

Meet the author

author avatar annibale
I am an Italian doctor, I like to write short novels and stories. I am 59 years old

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