When Living In The World Has Such An Effect On A Human

‘In my dream, I saw this Japanese lady. She was in a strange position.’ David’s therapy session was going well; not once did he feel like sticking a pin in her. He couldn't see his therapist from where he was, but he could feel her absence-often she would withdraw only to return. A show of power. She could switch him off when she wanted to - he felt they had similar powers-from day one-that's why he tolerated her questioning him.
‘Go on.’
‘OK, it was as if she was in the past, she was faded like an old photograph.’ Silence.
‘She seemed happy. I didn't want to ask her why she was-like that-why she had her legs in the air . . . .’
‘Why didn't you want to ask her?’
‘She seemed happy, what right did I have to question it?’ David could hear the rise and fall of her breath, the only physicality; a foot swinging, wedge shoes with one pink nail visible. The same colour as his dream. She left a space for him to fill.
‘I didn't ask her because I thought I would wake up. It was so peaceful-in-there. She was just . . . .’
‘What?’
‘In the dream.’ David felt a small rise in anxiety. ‘I could tell that she had been reborn.’
‘How?’ The analyst’s foot swung wildly, like a pendulum.
‘It’s simple, I decided she was tipped out of somewhere. That’s what I felt. People are always happy when they’re reborn.’ He continued.
‘I never meant to upset things, I don’t have control you see.'
‘Go on.’

When Living In The World Has Such An Effect On A Human

‘I stuck her. I stuck her with the pin. But she stayed the same.’
‘OK. She didn't deflate, like the others?’ He detected a hint of hope in her voice.
‘No. She stayed the same. It made me very happy.’ Her foot stopped tapping.
‘David, that’s very good news. You do realise that’s progress—’
‘I guess.’ He smiled and pulled the pin from his wallet.
‘Have you used the pin since I last saw you?’
‘Only twice.’
‘On yourself?’
‘Not exactly—-’
‘How did that feel?’
‘Hmm—-I was angry the second time.’
‘Why?’
‘Shrivelled so badly I couldn't see his face . . . this one exploded.’
‘How did you—’ He looked at the silver straight pin.
‘I decided today was the day—’

He inserted the pin into his knee. His therapist hadn't noticed he’d changed position, his legs straight upward, face turned towards her. She swung around to face him, not normally something she did during a session. His smile was one of a free person; she felt a glimmer of jealousy.
‘You see, I didn't deflate.’
‘That’s right David, you didn't deflate . . . that’s progress.'