A more or less superficial layer of the unconscious is undoubtedly personal. I call it the personal unconscious. But this personal unconscious rests upon a deeper layer, which does not derive from personal experience and is not a personal acquisition but is inborn, This deeper layer I call the collective unconscious. I have chosen the term '4collective" because this part of the unconscious is not individual but universal; in contrast to the personal psyche, it has contents and modes of behaviour that are more or less the same everywhere and in all individuals. It is, in other words, identical in all men and thus constitutes a common psychic substrate of a suprapersonal nature which is present in every one of us. Psychic existence can be recognized only by the presence of contents that are capable of consciousness. We can therefore speak of an unconscious only in so far as we are able to demonstrate its contents. The contents of the personal unconscious are chiefly the feeling-toned complexes, as they are called; they constitute the personal and private side of psychic life. The contents of the collective unconscious, on the other hand, are known as archetypes. Archetype" is an explanatory paraphrase of the Platonic eidoV. For our purposes this term is apposite and helpful, because it tells us that so far as the collective unconscious contents are concerned we are dealing with archaic or-I would say-primordial types, that is, with universal images that have existed since the remotest times, The term "representations collectives," used by Lévy-Bruhl to denote the symbolic figures in the primitive view of the world, could easily be applied to unconscious contents as well, since it means practically the same thing. Another well-known expression of the archetypes is myth and fairytale.
What is Fun Dip, you ask? It's powdery sugardust you eat off of edible chalk. It's packets of goodness in various fruit flavors. It's a treat seemingly forged exclusively for kings. It's anything you want it to be. It's Fun Dip. Honestly, I didn't care. The sixty-seven packets of sugar threw me on trips so intense, I barely knew where I was anyway. Most of the time, I thought I was in an alien zoo where all the strange, purple creatures were forced to don clothing advertising the local locksmiths and tackle shops while throwing around spiked maces drenched in fire. I'm not sure what's in Fun Dip, but it makes magical things happen. Plus, it's sand you can eat.
