The Allegory of Inception

It’s difficult to imagine that Christopher Nolan set out to create one of the most entertaining and now-beloved movies of all time simply to make an allegory to the therapeutic process, however that’s ironically just what happened. Think about it… We begin and end this life attempting to overcome the existential crisis—being born, living, and dying alone. Shared dreaming is, in one sense, what we all attempt in life but on a deeper and more dangerous level. We live to share our dreams with one another and avoid isolation. Inception captures that very basic human need and builds upon the experience of togetherness by allowing characters to not only, share dreams but also, share the entire experience of dreaming with other people (not to mention keep control over it). Joining subconscious is perhaps, the most intimate form of union a person could think of (despite Cobb using it for thieving and inception).

This complete disclosure of the mind to another and allowance of co-creation in a person’s own subconscious is a connection that eliminates the reality of loneliness where every part of a person, down to the very thought, can be exposed. Sharing ideas, creating worlds, spending a lifetime together… these are life goals, which Inception condensed into only a few hours. There’s little wonder then why Cobb could admit to his wife’s projection that they “had their time together,” albeit in a dream as though it allowed for a sense of peace. Mal and Cobb experienced what every couple in the world hopes to as part of their actual lives despite the cost. We attempt these things everyday within the constraints of reality but our lives especially are built upon our perceptions. All things that come to pass in life truly do begin with ideas—ideas which we ultimately hope to build upon and share with others.

Ariadne going into Cobb’s mind and sharing in the experience of his guilt is literally the action of the therapeutic process. Although it’s a bit of a flaw in the movie that no other character seems to have inner demons, the projection of Mal is an example of how our own emotions make us prone to self-sabotage if left unchecked. And what does this say of the power of emotions over our thoughts to begin with? It’s easy to think something—often so easy that we think without even knowing it. We can change our thinking and we can, over time, alter how we think—but how easy is it to change how you feel? Even Cobb, who would go into a dream state simply to lock his wife’s projection away, couldn’t contain the massive guilt he’d experienced. This is how all our emotions tend to unfold. The ramifications of emotional baggage are beyond serious and Inception shows perfectly that these feelings are often greater than our thoughts and more difficult to control.

But which emotions are the more powerful? Cobb, at one point, suggests “positive emotion trumps the negative every time.” How true is this? It’s proven that negativity is effortful. It takes more energy to frown than to smile—more energy to be angry than to be happy, however which then has the greater impact on us? Happiness, after all, doesn’t bring patients to the clinic. The trick to negativity is that we tend to push it aside or swallow it, rather than deal with it. Burying emotions by trying to “think them away” will inevitably lead to fulminating repercussions and possible inability to function, which is often what brings most patients into therapy. This is when each person loses the ability to serve as architect of his or her own dreams, not so different from Cobb’s inability to shape dream worlds because of Mal…

Freud had it figured that we may each become stuck at a stage of life when a significant upset harms our emotional experience. The situation Cobb went through could not have been more ideal for the space in which he was trapped. Ariadne—a character based from Greek mythology who once aided Theseus in escaping the Minotaur’s labyrinth—was a healthy, inquisitive mind serving as a sort of chorus for the movie. Not only did the audience learn the specifics of shared dreaming through her character, we also got to experience someone finally taking direct action on Cobb’s burning subconscious (without introducing the chaos of her own). This is the role of a therapist, taking the plunge into someone’s experience to guide the patient through the damage caused by unchecked emotional baggage. However, the work cannot be done unless the sufferer can confront the projections of that baggage—often real-life setbacks. Sounding familiar?

We all flirt with the dream state—tempted by a reality in which we don’t have to confront our problems often at even greater emotional cost. Cobb needs that device to dream but more so to reshape his hurt and keep Mal alive like an addiction. But don’t we all, at some time or another, become addicted to behaviors and ideas meant to set our minds at ease? Therapy attempts to put an end to dependence upon that state providing a “kick” to draw patients out of a poorly-perceived reality and build a “totem” to reality-check when old ways of thinking resurface. And more often than not, clinicians spend their time trying to give patients a much-needed “reality check.” Inception makes a perfect allegory to therapy even at its ending with an idea so infectious it even causes the audience to wonder. Where is Cobb by the end of his journey? Is he healed of his guilt? Does he settle for simply another dream world or can he exist among the real? People face these questions every single day and therapists are left wondering. How often do patients relapse into perceptions that are unrealistic? How often do the projections and manifestations of their baggage return? Most clinicians never get to know the answer to these questions when a patient steps out of the office that final time. Is catharsis enough to assuage the subconscious or are our worst feelings powerful enough to override all our work? The story of Inception is literally the story of every human being on the planet negotiating within themselves for peace of mind—eventually faced with a choice to indulge in false perceptions or see reality for what it truly is.

The Fun of Being a Therapist

Friends, The Office, 30 Rock… what do they have in common? High quality, jaw dropping, “I can’t believe that just happened” antics. Not exactly the picture you’d get coming from a psych practice tucked away on 21^st and K. Although it might be hard to picture your therapist as anything other than the serene voice of reason, leaned back in a chair with legs folded, when the 9 to 5 ends, they have to go back to being “just regular people,” too. However during the 9 to 5 being a psychologist is like 3 parts doctor, 2 parts friend, and somehow 1 part secret espionage agent… (Yes, I’m actually serious).

A therapist can’t be late for appointments because he or she has to be completely reliable and 100% stable in the patient’s eyes. This means being in the office early with undivided attention focused expressly on the needs of the individual. But what you may not know is that it also means a complete shift of identity for the therapist as well. Many avoid wearing flip-flops and clothes that reveal too much of their skin. They have to duck in and out of cover in public when simply catching sight of a client out of the corner of an eye and wait until after a patient has left the building before moving the car (which by then might have a parking ticket) to keep their patients from seeing what kind of cars they drive or things like that. All of this goes to the anonymity necessary for the therapist-patient relationship. Yes, some therapists quite literally have to hide and wait for clients to come and go in order to live their lives as both citizens and care-givers. God forbid should you go to a club and end up seeing one of your patients there. That means diving behind couches and chairs avoiding eye contact until you reach the door and end what would’ve been a fun night a bit too early. Hard to imagine therapists even going to clubs right?

It’s called the Tabula Raza or “blank slate.” The people who rely on you for psychological care have to be people separated from the greater part their therapists’ social lives. They have to project their emotional difficulties onto the care-giver and, in turn, that giver must sometimes act as a surrogate voice for the patient. Being a psychologist then, becomes something like putting on a blank canvas and allowing the patient to paint you as whatever they need you to be. Obviously that means overexposing them to the rest of you and your own experience is kind of a “no no.” Some therapists watch showing their toes outright (sorry, the cute shoes might have to go). The feet are the roots of a person—the base and stable ground. Essentially, hideous feet are the mark of someone not too interested in personal care and either consciously or subconsciously gives the impression that your stability and self-care are not where they should be… Never a good impression for a mental health doctor.

And while presentation/espionage is a decent part of keeping the relationship between patient and doctor well established, there’s also the actual health of the therapist to keep in mind. Part of the idea behind therapy is giving of your own Ego to the patient. The therapeutic process is an act of sharing with the client and, at times, can prove taxing on the part of the giver. Hence, as much of the therapist’s life as possible must be nurturing and serving to mental health from relationships to home life to daily exercise and food. It’s like everything out of the Prestige—living your act and being your profession. It’s nearly impossible to be a functioning therapist and not practice what you preach. Giving another person the guidelines to maintaining their functionality implies that you, yourself, can remain functional—which is NOT to say that a therapist has all the answers and has everything figured out, but rather, the skills have to be put into practice. It’s an interesting side to the practice (never mind the business and years of schooling that go into it). But watching the doctors here at PGW hold up behind closed doors for a lighting fast wardrobe and scene change is like TV at its best—except I’d be that “normal” guy just standing in the corner, shaking my head at the comedy of it all because—at the end of the day people are always still people.