This afternoon I went for my regular bi-monthly meeting with my psychiatrist. I always like to give him some fresh material to work with, so I related the story of a huge dream I had during my stay in Jerusalem last week.
I was in my kitchen at home when suddenly my son appeared in front of me. He appeared to be about 8 years old, and wearing the delightfully innocent, broad grin I remember so well.
"You're back!" I exclaimed, my heart filled to bursting with an inexpressible joy.
"Yep, I'm back" he replied. I rushed over to him and we hugged, a long and glorious hug.
Then I called to my wife, who was in another room:
"Darling, come quick! You've got to see this"
She came in, I turned to her and with a flourish presented this wonderful vision. Then I turned back to him, and at that instant he disappeared into thin air. At this I fell to the ground and began to weep uncontrollably. My wife leant down to comfort me, but I was unable to stop weeping and wailing. Then I was awake, and in actuality my wife was stroking my head, consoling me in reality. My pillow was soaked with tears. The dream was so powerful its images dominated the whole of the next day, and its impact was so great I shall probably never forget it.
My pysch's verdict, and which I could not argue with:
"This is very normal, really, don't you think?"
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