The separation of a group of mental processes or ideas from the rest of the personality, so that they lead an independent existence, as in cases of multiple personality (Collins)
So like making little, independent packages out of your feelings, emotions, ideas, thoughts… With little labels on the outside, tidy and net.
Like putting death and orphan and sadness and cold and cancer and aunt and third and she likes-well she liked… and other little things like that in a little box and wrapping it with brown paper and then store it somewhere out of sight, in a dark corner or under some other stuff which doesn’t matter anyway, anymore.
And it is brown paper, you know. Not really insulated coating… So it leaks a little bit, here and there. So when you suddenly hear a song, smell something, see a photo or, talking to a friend, it’s a girl! Really? Congrats! How are you gonna call her? Africa! O. Very nice name.
Then, maybe your throat strangles a little bit. Maybe your eyes feel dizzy. Maybe your lips get tense… Maybe you smile slightly… or another images come to your mind…
There is one that keeps coming to mine. We are sitting on a coach, at my mothers’, when I still lived there, and there was no blue-eyed son yet (no orphan), no responsibilities, no mother, nothing. And we were watching tv, and talking all the time. About flowers, about chakras, about life and death, about whatever we were watching… smoking, eating, chatting… just that, legs crossed on the sofa, side by side.
My world is falling asleep, she said. And it did.