When Freud met Woolf

I finally finished with the illustrated short story I made instead of a paper for my World Lit. Class. It features Sigmund Freud and Virginia Woolf. Have a Look. (Edit: I have included the text with the images, because the print is too small to read.)

After having been troubled by a dream, Virginia Woolf reluctantly comes to the lair of Psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud. She is ready to submit herself to whatever techniques necessary to rid herself of the torment of this dream. The proper greetings are exchanged once she enters.  Through the thick stench of cigar, Virginia begins to explain her reasons for coming

. 

“I have, for several weeks, been in agony over a dream. I have come to you for help in understanding it.”

Her voice waivers with embarrassment as she explains the circumstances. Dr. Freud accepts her pleas and instructs her to lie on his couch.

 

Her head finds one end of the couch while her feet, with effort, find the other. She begins recounting the dream with a newfound frankness in her voice. 

“The peculiar thing about this dream is that it feels vastly more real than any I’ve ever had before. I am wearing a beautiful red dress…”

“…And I am writing at my desk when suddenly I am stumped by the question of what femininity actually is. I sit there smoking a cigarette when suddenly it comes to me- I should go to the library and research it! Surely I will find an answer there! So I begin to gather my things to leave…”

“…And in doing so, I knock my cigarette from the ashtray into the rubbish I’ve written and tossed into the wastebasket. The papers burst into flames and suddenly the room of my own is on fire.”

“I quickly realize that the windows have all been nailed shut after our last burglary, so I dash to the door, but it is stuck. Pulling with all my strength, I can not get it open.

 

“With a horrifying shriek, I made a cry to my husband Leonard for help. He comes quickly, and I hear him yell through the door."

“I phoned the Fire Department- they will be here soon. But I can’t get this damn door open!”

“While Leonard tries the door, I begin feeling the flames kissing my skin on every side.”

“Slowly, from far away, I hear the Fire Truck coming and just as it gets close, I wake up. And as I lay there panting, and sweating, I realize I am thirstier than ever before, and get up for water.”

Sigmund sat, staring smugly at her for several moments before beginning his diagnosis: “What we seem to have is a case of self-destruction. Your Room is a clear symbol for yourself and your woman-hood. And the fact that it went up in flames when you had decided to pursue your question signals that your longings for scholarship will be your downfall.”

“And that your husband was unable to save you because your room would not let him in is a clear sign that you need to let him unlock your door with more frequency…metaphorically speaking.”

Rising briskly from the couch, Virginia exclaims, "Rubbish, all of it, pure rubbish!" Glaring at Sigmund and angrily wagging her finger she continues. "How do you expect anyone to believe this when you have absolutely no understanding of women and their concerns." To which Freud replied: "HA! This coming from a woman who has never once taken any class issues into consideration when discussing femininity." Storming angrily out of his office, Woolf yells, "In your case, Sigmund, the cigar is so much more than a cigar."