Sunday, August 23, 2020

Le Sorgenti del Sogno by Vittorino Andreoli

 Le Sorgenti del Sogno by Vittorino Andreoli famous italian psychiatrist traces in this book a fascinating trip starting into the dreams. What is a dream, where it starts? Is it different our state of conscience, common for everyone when we are awaken from the one of the sleeping state?

Not much. It is true that there are many differences, remarks the psychiatrist. We won't never try to hug someone if we are dreaming that we are, and if we walk, during a dream, we do that staying in horizontal position. The various phases of sleeping are two the phase REM and non-REM. If the first one is the sleeping without traces of dreams, the non-REM is the phase of eyes movements, where, in particular when it is done an EEG, a patient, awoken can remembers probably the dream that he was making.

Old age means a sort of curiosity for what it is done and it is true. I know people that said me to them what done previously in the other stages of the existence was absolutely surprizing.

If removing bad experience is an action of the mind for trying to avoid that that bad stress can stress too much the person, this memory could return or thanks a psychiatrist, or also seeing similar experiences lived by other people later. 

I read in various books that when we die the first one to go is the brain our computer. No: Vittorino Andreoli disagrees. The end of our pc is not so immediate and not in all the portion of the brain, so that, to Andreoli, a person, although dead, so, technically a corpse can perceives what it is going on around him for a lot of time.


What it reads the brain is the EEG althogh Andreoli tells us that, yes as a tool this one is remarkably important, although the reading is superficial, letting us also discovering the two emispheres and what they are important for.

Desires are another espect of the oniric phase and not only; the final chapter it's about oblivion.


My dreams:  I want to share with you two recent ones.


In the first one I dreamt a cousin disappeared abruptly. She returned as a teacher, wearing the same clothes she had when she was buried, and the classroom was special becaus  located in the cemetery of our countryside. 

Children, happy and cheerful, were sat in desks close to the various graves, some positioned also on graves. I remember that we spotted this cousin. I said her hi! Welcome back, while my mother said her to return where she was living now.

So my cousin infuriated took a tan of gasoline and rushed in the direction of the church with the intention of burning it. We avoided it. 


When I got up, it was a beautiful sunday day and there was the mass. When I arrived I saw the other member of the parish outside looking at something. A little portion of wood fell down from the main door that night! 


In the other one, I desired to go to Paris and electrified to see that city! when my niece asked me if she could join me with the husband. I would have wanted to visit Paris all alone but it was fine. We also brought with us my father, disappeared more than 3 years ago. Once arrived to Paris my desire was to start to visiting the city, but my niece suggested to call a relative living close to Paris. I said her that yes, it could be an idea, but we would have procrastinated our visit, and the day was incredibly sunny. I anyway accepted and well we found an enthusiastic relative. He welcomed us with all honors, offering us eating and drinking and asking to the wife and daughter to prepare us a great lunch. In the while my father fell sick and we called an ambulance. He was brought at a parisianne hospital while the daughter of this relative remarked I consumed too much water. She was also upset because she had to prepare the lunch. I decided to booking for my father a flight that same day; but in doing this I forgot the rest of us; flights would have left Paris in different times: then the relative convinced me: your father is sick he can't leave the hospital for now...


Highly recommended.


I thank Marsilio for the physical copy of this book.


Anna Maria Polidori 





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