When Nietzsche Wept Page #3

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I have a proposition

to make, Professor.

Perhaps never before made

by a doctor to his patient.

I propose a

professional exchange.

For one month, I will act

as physician to your body,

if you will act as physician to my mind.

What do

you mean?

That you doctor me and

I teach you philosophy?

No, no, no.

Not teach me.

Heal me.

Of what?

Despair.

I see

no despair.

Not on

the surface.

But underneath,

my mind is invaded

by alien thoughts.

I've lost sight

of why I live.

I'm terrified

of death, yet...

I often think

of ending my life.

I cannot help

you with this.

I've no training.

Who is trained?

Such healing is not a part

of the medical discipline.

What do I know of this?

You know more

than any man alive.

Aren't your books entire

treaties on despair?

I can't cure despair. I

only know how to tolerate it.

Then teach me

how to tolerate

a life

of despair.

You were right that

your mission is

to save humankind from

illusion and aimlessness.

To create a new code of behavior.

A new morality

free of superstition.

It's all there.

I n your books.

This is my offer.

You enter my clinic for 30 days.

I will observe and treat

your medical illness daily.

I n return, you become my physician,

and help me talk about

my life's concerns.

Look.

I'm indebted

to you...

more than

any man.

You saved

my life.

I'm just

a writer.

I'm not

a doctor.

You can pay your debt by saving my life.

The way I

saved yours.

So what?

I do this

for you to...

relieve my debt?

My motivation...

is entirely

self-serving.

I want to save my life,

but are you strong enough to do this?

I will persuade him

that he is the only one who can help me.

And then what?

Then I will

reverse the roles.

He will once again

be the patient

and I will be

the physician.

And what happens

when N ietzsche

turns to you

to cure his despair?

Siggy, I'm convinced there's

something healing in unburdening.

Look at

the Oatholics.

Their priests have been offering

confessions for centuries.

N ietzsche is

a solitary man.

Yet a few

nights ago

he opened up

to me.

A real plea

for help.

Help me.

What you saw were

his unconscious desires.

Those that if they were

liberated could scream

for help

in daylight.

The goal of

my talking cure

is to liberate those

buried desires,

to allow the patient to

ask for help... openly.

But is

"liberation" the right term?

Isn't it "integration"

that we are after?

I ntegration of the

unconscious with the conscious.

Yes!

Yes, Sigmund!

Very good.

Take a seat.

Remove your stethoscope.

And your coat.

As well.

I made a list

of your complaints.

One, you have a

general unhappiness.

Two, you're besieged

by alien thoughts.

Three, self-hatred.

Four, fear of aging.

Five, fear of death.

Six, urges

toward suicide.

Anything else?

I feel...

completely...

remote and distant

from my wife.

Trapped in a world

not of my own choosing.

And is that one more problem or two?

You make me

feel uncomfortable.

It is my task to make

you feel comfortless.

No, no, no. Your approach is all wrong.

M r. Breuer, we made an agreement.

"M r." Breuer?

Do you want us to proceed, M r. Breuer?

You've mentioned

your wife last.

Which tells me

it begins there.

What initiated

this change...

in your feelings

toward her?

Two years ago I took on

the case of a young woman.

This patient

- I gave her the pseudonym Anna O...

Suffers from what we doctors

call hysterical behavior.

Try to stay calm!

During our

daily meetings, she...

opened up to me. She had the

details of every disturbing event

of the last 24 hours.

She called these confessions

"chimney-sweeping."

I prefer to call it...

the talking cure.

U nfortunately,

the course of treatment was terminated

by its insane ending.

How?

I fell in love

with my patient.

She and her mother were

friendly with my wife.

Bertha.

What's wrong?

Stop it, Bertha!

What's wrong?

I'm pregnant!

I'm pregnant with

your husband's baby!

Bertha!

Here comes Dr.

Breuer's little baby I

Berthal Nol Stop it I

Stop it!

Bertha!

It was her delirium speaking,

of course, her illness.

But my wife forbade me to see her again.

What did

you do?

I'm sorry, my dear. I cannot

be your doctor anymore.

But I've done

nothing wrong.

Of course

you haven't.

I will refer you to a colleague of mine.

He will take good care of you.

Please don't

let me go.

I have no choice.

You will always be the

only man in my life. Always.

Can you imagine how terrible

it was to hear those words?

They were evidence of

the damage I had done.

I left her weakened.

Orippled.

You are responsible for all

of your thoughts and deeds.

But she, by virtue

of the so-called illness,

she is exonerated.

From everything.

Who has

damaged whom?

Who has

weakened whom?

Doesn't this cripple

Bertha, as you call her...

have greater power

over you?

An excellent beginning.

He even developed

a list of my problems.

Breuer is

a curious mix.

I ntelligent yet blind.

Sincere but devious.

Let him continue to think

that this is what we are doing.

He's possessed by a woman

who shreds him to pieces.

And he

licks her bloody fangs.

I love it, Josef.

What do you love?

Tchaikovsky!

Why?

Swan Lakel

Josef, look! We're running out of time!

Backwards!

Look at the time!

Faster, Josef!

Pedal faster!

Take me, Josef.

Take me!

Throw away

your shacklesl

Sticks and stones

may break my bones,

but death will

never hurt me!

I feared that after

yesterday's confessions,

you would

think less of me.

Do not worry about what

others think of you.

I suspect you find

sex disagreeable.

I do not object to sex.

What I hate is the man who begs for it.

He surrenders himself

to some crafty woman

who turns his lust

into her strings.

Lust is part

of life!

And nothing must interfere

with the development

of the hero which is inside you!

And if lust stands in the

way, lust must be overcome!

Be more practical.

All you give me are

quotes from your books!

First time I've attempted to put

my philosophy to practical use.

Choose between comfort

and the truth.

Are they

mutually exclusive?

If you want to choose

the pleasure of growth,

prepare yourself

for some pain.

Less pain, shrink. Go.

Be part of the herd.

Look at

this tree.

It requires

stormy weather

if it is to attain

its proud height.

Learn, creativity

and discovery.

But they

come in pain!

I wish for simple things.

To sleep without nightmares

To live

without tension.

Lie down.

Why?

It's the

best inducement

for recalling memories.

Lie down, please.

Close your eyes.

Let us

imagine

An icy

mountain peak.

And we see this little

man trudging to the top.

He's looking into the

horror of his existence.

He is encountering

times that are endured.

But he sees

too much.

This insignificance,

this mere little speck

that he is.

And now his fear

becomes so raw,

that he welcomes

lust into his mind.

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