Schizophrenia: A Human Situation

Some Years Ago a schizophrenic patient, whom I shall call Bengt, started to talk about the miniature models of the pyramids Sigmund Freud had on his writing desk. Bengt had been overtly psychotic for a year, with two previous acute psychotic episodes. I had been seeing him daily for 3 months when he touched on the topic of the pyramids. He seemed anxious to drop the subject after hinting at some dangerous secret involved in the story of the pyramids, but I indicated an insistent eagerness to hear more of the story. Bengt yielded half reluctantly to my wish, wanting time and again to end his narrative abruptly. Some of my remarks, however, succeeded in provoking him to continue the verbal development of his fantasy.

He spoke about a German scientist who, having transferred himself back 4000 years in time, met some priestesses of Isis. After many years they confided to him that there was a big secret and that even they, who were the only ones knowing of its existence, merely had a slight inkling of its nature. Bengt apparently was ready to discontinue his communication concerning the pyramids at this point. I asked: “Don't you think we should try to get somewhat closer to the secret?” He replied: “Anyone who tried such a thing would meet with a bloody vengeance!” “Suppose somebody were prepared to take even that risk!” I suggested.

After some hesitation Bengt developed a new version of the story: “A scientist came and found his way straight to the pyramid. He walked around the entrance hall swinging his cane and knocking on the walls with it. Confirmed in his opinion through this investigation that there were no signs of a pyramid tomb, he muttered to himself: “As I expected—there is nothing to be found.” Satisfied, he left the place. Had he listened more carefully, an echo of a series of ancient murders might have reached his ears. There had been a series of murders having to do with the plunder of a gold treasure. And yet—the European scientists had come upon nothing