Fantasy (n.) is the unwritten framework that tells us how to understand the letter of the Law.
Fantasy (n.) in every phantasmic scene raises the question for which gaze it is staged, and which narrative it is destined to support.
Fantasy (n.) presented in reality makes us flee, not because of censorship but because the core of our fantasy is unbearable to us.
Fantasy (n.) at its most elementary is belief in the special ingredient — the sublime fifth element over and above the ordinary four.
Fantasy (n.) that sustains an ideology lives not in the depth of inner conviction but in the 'purely material sincerity' of the external ritual.
Fantasy (n.) at its core reduces us to a gaze watching the world where we do not exist — our own conception, our own funeral.
Fantasy (n.) is the stitch between outside and inside: an external shock arouses me only when it touches my pre-existing fantasy.
Fantasy (n.) is preceded not by reality but by a hole in reality — its point of impossibility, which fantasy fills in.
Fantasy (n.) supplies every official asceticism with its obscene other scene — the rumored orgies at the top are as fantasmatic as the official ideology.
Fantasy (n.) conceals the horror of the Real, yet creates the very horror it purports to conceal — the giant squid and the ravaging twister are fantasy creations par excellence.
Fantasy (n.) is an empty screen: its fascinating contents do nothing but fill out a hole onto which we project our desires.
Fantasy (n.) is neither objective nor subjective but "objectively subjective" — the way things actually seem to you even if they don't seem that way to you.
Fantasy (n.) hides its decisive phase: the middle scene, 'I am being beaten by my father', was never remembered or conscious and must be built by analysis.
Fantasy (n.) keeps up the false opening — like Buñuel's bourgeois couples whose dinner is always foiled by bad luck, never admitting it is precluded by the very structure of the universe.
Fantasy (n.) is the screen separating desire from drive: it lets the subject misperceive the void around which drive circulates as a primordial loss.
Fantasy (n.) does not stage the transgression of the Law but the very act of its installation — the 'impossible' scene of castration.
Fantasy (n.) in Freud's little daughter made the strawberry cake not a wish for cake but an attempt to become the one who fully enjoys the parents' cake, and so the object of their desire.
Fantasy (n.) must remain implicit in order to be operative, keeping its distance from the symbolic texture it sustains and functioning as that texture's inherent transgression.
Fantasy (n.) is an answer to 'Che vuoi?': a scenario that fills the abyss of what the Other wants — 'Jewish conspiracy' is the anti-Semite's answer to 'What does the Jew want?'
Fantasy (n.) literally teaches us how to desire: not that I fantasize about the strawberry cake I can't get, but how do I know I desire a strawberry cake in the first place?