--Good morning, Dr Shapiro. How are you?
--Can't complain. I'm always happy in the springtime. Now, how was your week? Anything in particular you'd like to talk about today?
--It was... fine. Quite normal. I don't think I have a lot to say today.
--Are you sure, Erich?
--Well. I had the dream again.
--The one where you're in a gas chamber?
--Yes.
--Was there anything different about it this time? Describe it to me.
--The beginning is always the same--I'm touring the camp with my superior officer, and it's a bright sunny day, and all around us are miserable wretches in those striped uniforms. The lieutenant looks a little green, as he always does around unsightly things, but I feel quite calm, invigorated even. Not even that sickly-sweet burning smell you get all around there bothers me.
--From the...
--From the crematoria, yes. Anyway, the commandant of the camp shows us around, shows us the guards' barracks, several prisoners' blocks, the infirmary, and so on. The wide lanes are lined with trees, and it's spring and I can smell the fresh leaves--even though I don't remember if there were any trees last time. I think I might've made that up. The tour ends, as always, with the commandant showing us the gas chamber and explaining how it operates--showing us the lever and the chutes and everything. I always feel proud in that part of the dream--proud of him, of myself, a job well done. You know.
--Mhm.
--Well, and then it's time for the selection. The lieutenant and I are invited to stay till the end, and the lieutenant agrees every single time even though I know he'll vomit right afterward. It takes a while--there's a lot of people, lots of crying children--the smoke from the train blackens the air and gets in my eyes and nose, it's irritating and boring. I always pace back and forth restlessly at this part, you know I hate to stand still in one place for too long. Eventually the selection is over and most of the people are herded away to the showers. This time I saw a pair of twin girls in line--their dark hair was braided in very nice, careful pigtails, though they were rumpled and dirty from the train--and I wondered why they weren't sent to Mengele instead. I didn't see them last time.
--Did you see Mengele?
--No, he wasn't there this time. I don't know; it's random. Anyway, at this point the commandant is very excited to show off so he shoos the guard away and goes to pull the lever himself. The lieutenant mops his forehead with a handkerchief. I know he's nervous because this sort of thing can take a while, something like half an hour, and the noise isn't totally muffled even above ground. And then suddenly I'm shouting at the commandant to stop, and there's a gun in my hand and I'm pointing it at him, and go down to the gas chamber myself and free all the people, who are naked and very frightened, some of them have soiled themselves, and for a moment I'm happy, and I feel this euphoria and the leaves on the trees are very green--but then the guards make short work of everyone, and right as I see a gun pointed between my eyes, I wake up.
--This isn't how the dream ended last time you had it, correct?
--No. Last time I was alone in the chamber and it was right after everyone had been gassed--I was watching them clear out the bodies. Then the time before that, the prisoners rebelled and shoved us all inside. The lieutenant was crying hysterically in a very annoying way. I don't remember all the details, but every time it ends with me down there.
--And why do you think that is, Erich?
--Well. Obviously I feel guilty.
--No, it's not obvious. Guilt is a choice, a choice most people refuse to make. Over the course of these sessions, I haven't seen you make it yet. In fact I don't know if you're capable of it at all.
--That's harsh.
--I'm a psychiatrist, not a judge. All I'm saying is, you know you are guilty, and I see you desperately want to feel guilty, but that's not quite the same thing, is it?
--Ugh. This is too abstract for me. You people are always pointlessly splitting hairs, it's very unhelpful.
--And by 'you people,' do you mean...
--Psychiatrists.
--I thought you were going to say Jews.
--But that's obvious.
--Hm. Tell me about your childhood.
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