Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Dreamed this morning of being in a field of dirt, playing with toys, with Ernest Hartman, my mother & wife. Then we go to Bonaventure in Savannah, GA, and sit on the lawn. Ernest has chest pain, stands, then collapses. I comfort him and ask my wife to call 911, while my mother gets hysterical and asks where she'll sleep tonight. Ernest, who sat on Freud's lap as a child, would appreciate my mothers Oedipal response. I take his hand and say what a beautiful day we had. Then I say that the object of life, like therapy, was to learn how to play. I had swam mornings with Ernest at the dream association annual conferences, and gone to his poetry and dream workshops. He had learned how to play.