no sex The Orgone Accumulator : Prologue

[Hialmar]

The Orgone Accumulator

- Prologue -

"And how may I help you?"

The voice of the psychoanalyst -- if that was the correct word -- was soft and assuring. The client reclined in the sofa, gazing into the ceiling. The client -- a young man, perhaps in his early twenties -- cleared his throat. He had left his rather modern, but not too modern, jacket on the back of the chair close to the desk, and he had loosened the knot of his narrow, modern tie in some synthetic fabric. Unlike the considerably older analyst, the client didn't wear any vest, as these were falling out of fashion: It was the goddamn 1960's after all. The crown of the analyst's head was bald, but a wreath of grey hair reached from his temples to the back of the bespectacled older man's head.

"Do you mind if I smoke?"

"If that helps you to talk more freely, you are free to do so."

The young client rose, approached his woolen jacket, fumbled with a package of cigarettes and a Zippo, and returned to his reclining posture at the hard sofa, holding a burning cigarette between his fingers. Afternoon sunlight filtered into the office between the blinds. Absentmindedly, the young client checked the parting of his hair with his fingertips, as if he doubted the perfection of his conservative male hairdo. He glanced at his wristwatch.

"Don't worry about time. I'll keep track of time."

The analyst fell silent again, allowing the client the time needed to open up. The walls surrounding the sofa lacked any paintings or photographs, in order to allow the thoughts of the clients to wander -- unlike the other walls, which were covered by black-and-white photographs from the 40s and 50s and some old-fashioned artwork in art deco style.

The client cleared his throat. His cheeks and ears became rosy.

"I ... I ... There is something wrong with me, Doctor Witt. I seek your help, because ..."

The client fell silent again.

"Take your time, son. No hurry. Take deep breaths if that helps you."

A fly emitted a buzzing sound somewhere behind the blinds.

"Sometimes ... Sometimes, during high school I felt attracted to team members of the football team."

The client blushed and fell silent.

"What does it mean, Doctor Witt? Do you think, there's a medicine, that may help me?"

"You left high school a few years ago, didn't you? Have you ever had any similar thoughts after that?"

The client blushed again.

"When I go to theatre. Movies about the Wild West. Something stir inside me. It's embarrassing. And when there was a re-run of The Wild One on TV."

"Stir inside you?"

"It's like ... It's like I want to be the hero ... But I also want to ... Um ... I also want to hug the hero. Or the anti-hero ... "Anti-hero" is a word, isn't it? This is unnatural isn't it, Doctor Witt? Is there a cure? Psychoanalysis is all about unrepressed healthy sexuality adapted to societal norms, isn't it?"

"Before we continue this session, you have to know, that I don't follow the orthodox methods, as it were, of Doctor Sigmund Freud. My work, and the work of my associates, is mainly based on the methods of one of his disciples, Doctor Wilhelm Reich. In my experience, Reichian therapy is much more efficient."

"I wouldn't know the difference. A friend talked me into consulting you, but he don't know about this ... this secret. I may not have got a college degree, but this office work pays the rent. I think, that I could afford your therapy, at least if it doesn't go on and on for years. Lots of people consult analysts today, don't they? I just want to be normal. To feel normal. I don't even know, what this feeling is supposed to mean: I can't be a fag, can I, Doc? Fags are all supposed to be girly and limp-wristed, aren't they? I don't ... I don't feel girly, and I don't feel anything for unmanly men, so what is all this supposed to mean? Isn't opposites supposed to attract? Is there a diagnosis, Doc?"

"I will need some time to understand your condition. Why don't you keep one hour a week free for our therapy sessions, will you?"

"I probably will."

"And if you have the opportunity, I think, that spending a week or two at a treatment center I know of would have a beneficial effect on you."

"Treatment center? Like a vacation?"

"Something similar to a vacation, in sunny California, outside San Francisco."

"Some sun wouldn't harm, would it?"

At the time, none of the men would have presaged what was set into motion.

 

The story continues in: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18476-the-orgone-accumulator-part-one/

 

 

Edited September 16, 2019 by Hialmar
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[growthfan96]

This seems like an interesting start. 

 

Curious to see how this will all play out.

[Hialmar]

3 hours ago, growthfan96 said:

This seems like an interesting start. 

 

Curious to see how this will all play out.

Thank you for your encouragement. The story will, as you will see, oscillate between the 1960s and the 2010s.

Part one is found here .

[menos126]

As a Psychoanalist myself i like how realistic was this piece of writting. Quite liked it!

[Hialmar]

8 hours ago, menos126 said:

As a Psychoanalist myself i like how realistic was this piece of writting. Quite liked it!

Oh. Thank you. I'm glad you could relate. The story-idea emerged from reading about the controversial points where Reichian therapy diverge from Freud: The concept of Orgone opened up for some sci-fi, suitable for this website, but I've taken the general idea, re-interpreted it and run away with it, for the sake of entertainment.

I read some bits and bobs of Freud, Erikson and Fromm (also some Jung and Frankl) many years ago, but I wouldn't call myself knowledgeable, and, to be honest, I know even less about Adler and Reich (and Rogers and Maslow). I just needed a suitable setting for the story. Don't expect too much realism in the continuation.