If there is a fatality in that, there is the disposition regarding symbolist drama to discover some supreme secret. Want is impelled by typically the promise of a vision to the mystery, this inevitable revelation behind this door with all the hole. But the nothing which is not there suggests only the little that is, and that will the answer is in other places, not-seen, otherworldly—unless the idea end up being, as in this hermeneutics of Freud, that will exactly where the images lead many people disappear at some impasse into your dream's navel, and thence through the mycelium (the word is Freud's, but you will find mushroom clumps in Strindberg) with it has the filamenting nerve ends associated with thought. Which is why is interpretation, deferred and impelled by multiplicity, as loaded, perhaps, as the soul-complex. Ahead of door is ultimately exposed, the Officer desires a locksmith, nevertheless instead it's the Glazier who transforms up, for that system using its symbols is definitely also scopophilic: what is recommended is not a key but some sort of seer, the particular irony being that perspective is consummated—as in typically the reconditioned mystery of Artaud's alchemical theater—in and by means of its sonorous substance, this naked streaming realization. Precisely what we see and exactly how we see it, using seeing collapsing upon on its own, as in a home of wall mirrors, is actually the substance of that will other Strindbergian theatre, This Ghost Sonata, who