The next morning, Rank served as Freud’s tour guide. He accompanied him through Manhattan highlighting the prodigious heights that reached the buildings, calling each one by name: the Singer Tower, the Empire State, the Flatiron, the Woolworth … From all that looking up, Freud got stiff neck, being unable of lowering his head just as they crossed Times Square in the middle of the intense traffic.He woke up hours later in a hospital bed. His head hurt, but that (the doctor reassured him) was normal after a concussion. Then Freud remembered being hit by a vehicle. Soon he would be discharged, the doctor added, and he could leave with his friends. ¿His friends? Then Freud knew that “Oedipus” was waiting for him downstairs in the hall, no doubt plotting some other plan to eliminate him. Without the doctor having time to stop him, Freud sprang to his feet and ran like a bat out of hell. He ran down a long corridor avoiding all kinds of obstacles. In an elevator, he discovered a solitary stretcher with a white sheet on it, and without hesitation he laid down and covered himself with the sheet. Then he fainted.When he came around, it seemed to him that he was in his childhood attending some funeral in his native town. He heard the same prayer, the Kaddish: “Magnified and sanctified be His Great Name in the world that is to be created anew when He will revive the dead…” The dead?! What dead?! He got up and took off the sheet that wrapped him. The mourners didn’t believe what they were seeing. Freud jumped out of the casket and fled from the synagogue. Those who did not faint, shouted, waved their arms, turned somersaults…

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