THE COLLECTOR
Mel Waldman
Recently, my patient stopped cutting himself after three years of therapy. He used to tell me: “Cutting my skin makes me feel real!” Still, he was able to stop his self-mutilations. Then he missed three sessions in a row. I received the following letter today:
Dear Dr. F:
I wish to inform you that I am terminating treatment. I am also moving out of state. Thanks for all your help. Finally, I’ve stopped cutting myself. This achievement is a miracle. Yet it leaves me empty-absolutely null and void and terrified. Seems I’ve lost a big chunk of my identity. Suffering can be very comforting and familiar. Who am I? And what’s left of me?
I love you! I hate you! I’m in mourning. But I’ve got a temporary solution. I’ve studied bizarre behaviors during the course of my treatment. And now, I am a collector.
What do I collect? First, I collected a vast list of bizarre behaviors and syndromes, including hundreds of obscure psychopathological conditions. Then, I read about each condition, exploring the infinite possibilities of self-destruction. In other words, I collected a massive amount of information, perhaps thousands of facts, symptoms, and data. Now, I’ve randomly selected six syndromes. (Actually seven.)
My current mathematically determined collection includes: erotomania, frottage, vampirism (and lycanthropy), sex slavery and the Stockholm syndrome, autoerotic asphyxia, and necrophilia. I will stay up all night to explore the intricate labyrinths of the bizarre. Tomorrow, I will randomly choose one syndrome to embrace, explore, and become. It will be my sudden cure for emptiness. A hollow man without an identity is merely a black hole, you see!
But before I say adieu, let us briefly examine my mini-universe of possibilities. First, there is erotomania. Some call it obsessive love or psychose passionelle (passionate insanity). In its pure form, there is obsessive love at first sight. At the core of the disorder, the individual believes that he or she is loved madly by a person of higher status. The individual who suffers from erotomania may eventually become a stalker. Ultimately, there is the possibility of violent erotomania. How interesting, Dr F. How interesting.
Second, there is frottage. In frottage or frotteurism, an individual rubs against strangers in public places. The frotteur experiences sexual gratification. Will he become a frictionist who rubs against a woman’s buttocks or legs? Will he experience an orgasm with the unknown woman? In any case, both are fully clothed. Will frotteurism lead to toucheurism, in which the frotteur touches a stranger? If so, toucheurism can be perceived as a physical assault-a criminal act. Will frotteurism lead to voyeurism or rape? The potentiality for violence is definitely there. How exciting, Dr. F!
Third, there is vampirism. Related to vampirism is lycanthropy, the delusional belief that a person has been changed into a wolf. Individuals who believe they have been transformed into a wolf may commit violent acts such as cannibalism, mutilation, or murder. How delightful, Dr. F!
Fourth, there is sex slavery and the Stockholm syndrome, pertaining to people who have been kidnapped and held hostage for long periods of time. These victims have been held for sexual exploitation or political reasons. In the Stockholm syndrome, the victim experiences positive feelings toward his captor, but negative feelings toward his rescuers. And the captor entertains positive feelings toward the victim. How wonderful it would be to reclaim my status as victim! And feel all that love! What about you, Dr. F? Want some of that submissive love, Doc? Confess and cleanse yourself! I won’t tell! I mean, it’s truly delicious! Right, Sir Shrink?
Fifth, there is autoerotic asphyxia in which the individual induces oxygen deprivation to heighten the experience of orgasm. This breathless sex is also called “headrushing,” “huffing,” “fantasy,” “flying to the moon,” “scarfing,” and “ecstasy.” Hanging is the most popular method of autoerotic asphyxia. But there are numerous methods of suffocation for those seeking heightened sexual excitement. How sweet and dangerous, Dr F!
Sixth, there is necrophilia, in which individuals are sexually aroused by contact with corpses. Necrophiles may commit murder to have sex with a corpse. Or, without committing murder, they may have sexual intercourse with a dead body. Necrophiles perform all kinds of horrific acts, Dr. F! They are deliciously obscene! There are three kinds of necrophiles: violent necrophiles, fantasy necrophiles, and romantic necrophiles. What kind of necrophile would I be, Dr. F? And you?
Tomorrow, I will choose one of these disorders which I will embrace with all my heart and soul. Goodbye, Dr. F!
Sincerely,
The Collector
P.S. Perhaps, we will meet again. And by the way, what disorder would you choose?
I suppose I am a collector too. A cauldron of my patients’ seething emotions, I also hold and contain their thoughts, dreams, and nightmares. And of course, I contain my personal history too, having collected a cornucopia of psychological shards, anguished memories of loss, death, and violence, fragmented and forgotten traumas, buried traumas, and visions of Heaven and Hell.
Perhaps, the Collector will return one day and slice me with his rage and love. He may be a frotteur or frictionist or wannabe rapist, wolf or vampire, or sex slave and victim, oxygen-deprived, breathless “headrusher” or necrophile. The Collector may be all of the above or none. Always, he will shriek emptiness and crave to be filled up.
We are collectors. But not the Collector. Thanatos, it seems, is our Collector, the original Necrophile, waiting for us, feeding on our dead bodies. Yet some might argue that Eros is at the very least, our Co-Collector or the only genuine Collector, collecting our souls when we give our love, transforming us into mysterious beings, filling up our wasteland with infinite possibilities.
POSTSCRIPT 1
A CANNIBALISTIC LETTER
Dear Collector:
I am the Wolf! I devour your flesh. In this brutal act of cannibalism, I embrace your soul and we are one. In the act of mutilation, when I cut your skin, you become perfect. You become real. In the act of murder, you are killed and resurrected too. I am the Wolf! I contain both Thanatos and Eros. I am the mysterious Collector! (And I am not this unknowable Source!)
Sincerely,
Dr. F
POSTSCRIPT 2
A PARADOX
We exist inside the universe. And the universe exists within us. The Collector is all, including the Void, especially each human who collects thoughts and emotions, sometimes stealing them from others, and storing them in primitive caverns of the brain-microscopic holding cells which will eventually release them as pure energy to fuel Life or Death forces. Always, there will be the ultimate choice-creation or destruction. And if the latter is clutched, there will be an atomic explosion/implosion. The Collector is all, especially the Void.
POSTSCRIPT 3
THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM
The Collector may wish to kill me. And my life may truly be in danger. I may have only seconds left. Yet I will not fear. I will read the twenty-third psalm, eat his brains, and sing hallelujah! I’m perched on a white birch tree, way up high, ready to swing toward the Heavens, but wanting to return real soon, an old man and a boy at the end of life (and the very beginning), Collector of all things, especially dark dreams.
