Anxious Places and Yellow Notepads

The piece of paper that my hands and pen touch in my imagination feels real. So does the laptop that I imagine next. Can I imagine these two objects, paper and laptop, existing simultaneously in the same physical space? I seem to be doing so right now. In reality, I should be editing an article about a particular tool manufacturer, which was translated into English, and the translation is of such a poor quality that what I’m actually doing is rewriting. In my imagination, I’m writing these sentences, one moment on paper, the next on the laptop. Where I am in my imagination reminds me that, in reality, in my office at home, I’m frustrated and disoriented. In these images that come to me as I rewrite sentences in English at home, I’m seated at a wooden table, just wide enough for the laptop and the perfect size for the yellow notepad on which I find myself creating these sentences. This imaginary reality occurs in my psychoanalyst’s office. If I were to express what I’m thinking in mathematical terms, I would say that the images of me in my analyst’s office, writing at a table, equals my mind, or a state of mind. Writing at a table can make me anxious. My mind is often an anxious place. A yellow notepad brings to mind a forgotten memory from decades ago, when I aspired to one day becoming a lawyer. I bought a hardcover on the history of American law when I was around twelve years old. A few years later I read a firsthand account of someone’s experiences during his first year at Harvard Law School. Then the dream seemed to disappear, and life continued. Right now, in reality, I imagine that my psychoanalyst is seated in his office listening to another human being struggle to explore his or her mind. Maybe in our next session I’ll tell him that I’ve spent time in his workspace, in my imagination, when my mind felt too much an anxious place for me.

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