Neurotic Disorders

Like a long stream of balloons, thoughts fly into the sky, coming up, going by, disappearing. I try to

catch hold of my stream of consciousness which knows what is going on in my mind, what is, what is

happening, what is disappearing. But really it's not something steady that can to grab on to.

It is not just thoughts, though. I am always talking to myself. For the instant I hold on to my stream of

consciousness and examine it, I see inside myself, and I know the moving flow of my self. Looking

along the current, I found it was headed to one place only.

All my body's sense organs are working just like they usually have. The only thing that is not as it

should be is that all the data entering my senses are coming from one source. I suspect this has been

going on for a long time - more than a thousand days. So, I take my senses one by one and examine

them carefully.

Observations

1. Sense of sight

One night, on which I had been reciting poetry, comes into my vision again and again.

"Full of yellow flowers in the field

Run up the hill with the wild

We pick a flower of dreamFor the rest of our lives. "

The eyes gazing as I recited. Although I have been searching for the soul which was pouring out of

them again and again, my organs of vision just report back that they can not be found. Like a computer

searching for lost files with the little magnifying glass, the consciousness in the present is searching for

the eyes it has seen before. Why will not these eyes which I will never vanish from my conscious

memory come up again? Did they change somehow? Or was I wrong about them?

In hopes of success, I searched through other sights I had remembered. My consciousness hunted

through all the places I had been, in a snap: Ruli, Mae Sot, Chiang Mai, Mandalay, Yangon. Where

were they? Although my consciousness was there, they were left behind.

My stream of consciousness is with me in a café. Straight in front of me are those eyes I have seen so

often.

As my awareness and I, met those eyes again in the café, I searched them again, as I had so many

times. There was a cold, dark curtain in his eyes. What could be hidden behind it? I tried so many

times, but could not unearth anything.

2. Sense of hearing

"I want to live together, let's live together," if I heard correctly, that is. Just now there is a voice I am

searching for in my hearing, over and over. If he listened carefully to the single song I sing nights, he

would hear that it goes like this: "Come ... away where they can not tempt us with their lies"

"Just wait for me - I'll be back before three months are up, and then let's move in together." His words

echoed in my hearing; I did not say that I would wait. If I thought just of my self-actualisation, I would

wait for sure. That is my genuine natural tendency. But I do not want to have a conflict between the two

potentials we have - our love and our artistic talent. Sometimes, we could be halves of each other, and

we would have to be together to be complete. But he sometimes he would need his own space to create

some art works that was exciting him. The same goes for me. Sometimes there might be a difference

between his values ​​and mine, we might have different standards. We can not be the same in everything. If

he calls something white, I can not just go along with it. When he calls black white, for sure I am not the

kind to ever just close my eyes to it and nod my head.

"We can not live together. If we do, our love will disappear, that is what I fear the most. "Yes, that was my

voice right there. Did I say it to myself, or did it come out my lips? It stuck in my throat that night

when I was left sitting alone on the double settee, with the sound of the slam of the door and the smash

of the just-sipped wineglass splintering against the wall. It remained spoken only in my head. "We can not

live together. If we do, our love will disappear, that is what I fear the most. "

Were we being egoistical? Were we each digging in our heels insisting on our own values? I regretted

very much not saying that I would wait, when I had began to doubt whether it was possible to keep the

love between us alive.While I was gripped by indecision, I tried to phone to ask him. The "Outside of

service area "announcement echoed in his phone.

3. Sense of smell

People came streaming out of Sule Pagoda, I caught sight of him from a distance. He was so absorbed

in his own interest, he did not seemed to notice me at all. The whole time I was following him, I tried to

stop my senses working; I started with cutting the sense of sight. I walked in the crowd, keeping my

head down - so I would not be able to see him at all, naturally. For the sense of hearing, I immersed

myself in the sound of the crowd. So it would be impossible for me to hear his voice, of course. That's

not to mention the other senses - touch, taste. I crossed the street at the yellow lines of the crossing in

front of Sule Pagoda along with a crowd of people, and in the midst of the welter of all kinds of sounds,

colours, people, smells, suddenly, right in the middle of the crossing I caught a whiff of something - my

smell radar homed in on a shoulder scented with a familiar Charlie cologne. Our paths intersected like

an x on the yellow stripes. He did not see me. But even with my head down, the split-second's brush of

the shoulder of his white shirt was enough for me to get a smell that would unmistakably identify him,

even in a crowd of hundreds. I had tried to defeat my senses, but in fact I was the one who had to lay

down my life.

4. Sense of taste

Is the apple sweet, or is the sweetness on the tongue alone? I analysed it from perception. Knowing the

apple is sweet is a cognitive process. Thinking over whether the sweetness comes from the tongue, on

the other hand, is an emotional process. I could infer in another step that what I have is now is not a

cognitive need, but a pure physiological or emotional need. In fact, it's he who likes the apples, not me.

I would not lie. Even though I do not really like apples at all, when he gave me a bite of apple, it was

sweet indeed. And whenever I turn my perception back to that bite, it is still sweet.

5. Sense of touch

Once we had little universe all to ourselves. He said, "A universe ... in a room just big enough for the

two of us. Wherever we go, we are never really away from each other. "Holding hands, that was just

touch. The index finger tracing along the lower lip, that is nothing but touch. Shoulders jostling is just

touch. When the matching moles we have between our forefingers and thumbs touch, that is just the

sense of touch.

Just as no matter where you go in the universe, you can not get away from touch, so in consciousness

sensory input is unavoidable. Imagery, memories, and thoughts arise one after another, with a thread of

association between them, or perhaps a vicious circle. I had not been contemplating my little universe

for long when it vanished like a soap bubble. I just kept writing a poem I was composing at the end of

this universe which was nowhere to be found. "Just our hands holding each other, because far, because

near, the surfeit of longing I will carry to my death, but until then, just a moment, of our wings

interlaced of an afternoon. "

I swiftly jumped off the express bus which was carrying the pair of birds with wings joined while it

was stopped at a red light. Would traces of him remain in the sweat of my palm? I placed both my

hands on my cheeks.

6. Neurotic dreams

According to Sigmund Freud, dreams are a manifestation of unconscious mental processes. The

incessant observations of the stream of consciousness are continuously coming forth again as dreams

through an unconscious process. But do not you think that is a little too elaborate? Observing with all

five senses, he has at the same time entered into them. This has not been for one day, not for a month,

nor even for a year or two. It has been thousands of days.

He is taking over the territory of my dreams now. What I am noticing is that he appears often in my

dreams these days. I have come to dream of him more and more frequently, three or four times in a

week. Even when I have mundane dreams, I have the feeling that something is a little bit off. has he

conquered my conscious and unconscious minds both? Is my mind no longer my own? I ask myself

this over and over.

One night I woke from a dream, and tried again to catch hold of my unconscious mind. In the dream, I

was constantly sending him phone messages. Had we spoken on the phone that day? Did something

unusual happen between us that day? Yes, he had sent me a phone message. A single word: Test. He

wanted to find out if he could send messages from his phone. I sent him back one line: Got test but

do not wanna be tested. He answered in one word: Okay. Could that have got mixed up in my dream?

Could be. Unconscious mind is not something I can control.

So I just went back to sleep. Then I had another dream. In the dream, we were having a fight. Why does

he have power over my mind like this? With the anger about that, I started a fight with him, I suppose.

I woke up one morning with the sun falling on my eyelids. It was a usual awakening, I woke up out of a

dream. In the dream, he left me. I can still feel the ache from the dreaming paining me in the left side of

my chest, up till now. Well, that's three times in one night, I can remember thinking. One thing I knew

for sure - I had done something wrong.

7. Neurotic disorders

You know what's funny? How many times do you think I dreamt last night? Three times, you know?

All three times about you. I was messaging you the whole time, you know. In the dream your face was

blurred, I could not see you well.

I had an argument with you in a dream too. Probably because it's been a long time since we argued,

do not you think? I went over to your house, but I did not feel comfortable there, so I said goodbye.

While I was gathering up my things, you came with a little bag, a present. I thought it was because you

really wanted me to go home, so I took the bag and threw it right at you. A pretty funny dream, is not it?

My mind wants to trail you everywhere. I can not follow you for the moment, as my mind and body are

still together. But if by chance I should be in some accident on the road and die, my mind will fly to

you in a flash, and hover around you for seven days. You had better watch out. If I find during that time

that you lied to me, I will not forgive you.

I tried to get a grasp on my stream of consciousness which knows what is existing, happening, and

disappearing in my mind, but it was like grabbing at balloons floating by, I could not catch it. Balloons

streaming up into the sky, like soap bubbles caught on the wind and disappearing, do not you know? I

frequently made observations, but all for nothing. I could not grasp the stream of my consciousness nor

any unconscious processes. Do not you know? There is nothing left in my mind. Except that I love you.

Right now there is only one thing I know. I am always talking to you in my mind. Now, I've gone

farther than that, do you know?

Now ... can you hear? I am alone, talking by myself ... .in ... a ... whisper.

Now ... can you hear? I am alone, reciting a poem of eecummings .... in ... a ... whisper.

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your

doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meantand whatever a sun will always sing is youhere is

the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the budand the sky of the

sky of a tree called life; which growshigher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

Now ... can you ... hear ...? I carry your heart with me silently.

Myat