Excerpt
PROLOGUE THERE’S A MAN beneath your bed. Not a literal one, although Freud would’ve asked you about that. No, it’s more like this: somewhere deep in your mind, there’s a voice you can’t quite hear, a memory you didn’t mean to keep, a desire you’d rather not admit. And every time you dream about falling, or missing a test, or kissing someone you shouldn’t, that man stirs. That man is Sigmund Freud. He’s not a monster. He’s not a magician. But he is the one who told you the monsters were inside you, and that magic is just trauma in disguise. Before Freud, the mind was… polite. It was reason, logic, manners, and madness. The soul was a moral thing. The brain was a physical thing. And the...