Oedipus Ad Doctorus Poem by robert dickerson

-Good evening, Doctor.
-Hi, Eddie, long time no see.
-Ed, not Eddie.
-Of course. A man has the right to be called by whatever name he wishes, doesn't he?
-Yeh. A month, is it?
-Three weeks and four days, to be precise. How's it going?
-So so. You know. Same old same old.
Wha'd'ya'mean?
-Oh, the same old dream.
-Still? Exactly the same? No difference?
-Not that I can see.
-Tell me about it again.
-My wife is a major player. I'm sleeping with her, see? It's nighttime. Everything's going fine. In the morning I wake up. She turns to me, her arms out. She's become my mother! It's very unpleasant. Very distressing.
-Curious.
-Do you know what that's like? Instant paranoia! I can't shake it. In fact, I'm coming to believe it. In fact, I do believe it.
-Ed, that's silly.
-Oh thank God! I'm glad to hear you say that. Why, that's the oldest taboo in the world. Isn't it?
-Maybe. It's up there. What do you think?
-I'm not sure, that's why I ask. Murder is older, maybe. And a few other things.
The data simply isn't available. Gosh, the world is so old. But you're saying it's silly, my dream?