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CHAPTER NINETEEN

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

W

ith Christmas over, there was no way of escaping the hard reality of what I had chosen to do in ending my analysis.

By the time New Year arrived, I was far removed from the mood of celebration which had been such a strengthening aspect of my summer holiday experience. All former optimism had been replaced by deep misgivings, and as the New Year got underway growing doubts and fears increasingly emerged as anticipatory grief at my ending with

Anna.

After the conviction I had carried for so many months, it was hard to believe the sense of foreboding which now replaced so much former certainty. In fact, I tried hard not to believe it. My decision to end was based on convincing evidence of my readiness—and there was now no going back on an event for which we had both been preparing for six months. Anna’s recorded reflections are a reminder of the thoughts behind our agreement to end in February:

“What was happening was that you were ending your role as a relationship counsellor, and you talked about this as having ‘completed

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Lloyd, Naomi Karnac Books ePub

Shortly after my return to Anna I watched a documentary on the 1944 Warsaw Uprising. This depicted how, as the Nazis began to take over the city, people tried to escape by crawling through the sewers to reach unoccupied areas. The documentary film included original footage portraying this, as well as interviews with survivors of the horrifying mass slaughter of those two months. I found it deeply disturbing, and though I have no recollection of discussing with Anna any possible connection with my collective unconscious memory, I believe it was this that provoked another disturbing dream:

I have a strong sense of danger. Something threatening is happening in the world around me but I'm not sure what it is.

I need to go to my mother who lives in a house in the remote countryside, but for some reason I know I can't go there by road. I have to find a ‘secret’ way of getting there unseen.

I find myself crawling through a long, dark tunnel which I believe will lead me to my mother's house. It is tiled and the walls are wet and wide, like a sewer pipe. I know I'm getting near the end of the tunnel but there is no light. Suddenly I reach the exit and realise that it is blocked with tons of earth. There is no way out. I have to go back. I feel very frightened about what has happened to my mother.

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Chapter Nine

Lloyd, Naomi Karnac Books ePub

Now I am feeling very low.

Some sort of crisis seemed to hit me tonight.

Was I challenging you,

Or was it the other way around?

Did we have what you call ‘a tussle’?

Because now I feel completely drained,

And I have sunk to the bottom of a big, black hole.

I know you tried to hold me

Somewhere safe—to let me know

You understood how I was feeling.

But right now it isn't working,

And I am crying tears of pain and regret—

Sorry for what I said,

But knowing I had to say it.

What will happen next time?

How will we begin?

Issues of ‘control’, you talked about…

That makes me very frightened.

Now I don't want to win—only lose.

Control is a terrifying word for me.

But something reassures me that you will keep hold

Of what is happening, helping me to understand.

Listening to recordings of what was happening between us during my second year of analysis, it is clear that Anna had begun to challenge me to open up my material in a number of ways. Firstly it concerned the poems; then it moved into a battle to get me to talk about my dreams. By Easter 2002, the focus of Anna's challenge concerned my wanting her to start the sessions, rather than being willing to risk this for myself.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A

s Anna would later remind me, the events of summer 2007 would continue to reverberate through the months ahead.

Patrick and I planned to visit Lake Como in Italy, and to stay at a hotel in Bellagio with a view overlooking the lake. In order to maximise on this beautiful location we had booked a room with a large terrace, in anticipation of enjoyable sunny hours spent basking in our private view of the glorious scenery.

Little had we imagined that during our two week stay, the sun would only emerge briefly and deceptively in the morning. Along with the many other hopeful visitors, we would empty out of our hotel into the colourful streets of the little town. But by late morning, perhaps while enjoying a leisurely cappuccino in one of the inviting cafés bordering the lake, this sunlit scene would eerily transform itself in a matter of minutes into something more reminiscent of the Day of Judgement.

While visitors hurried back to their hotels in an effort to avoid the

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

S

urprisingly, I had lost all recollection of the dreams that emerged during these summer months. But as we both sifted through our copies of my writing for that year, Anna produced them from her session notes. I was mystified—and though I searched my computer in the belief that I had saved everything I had given to Anna over the years, I could find no record of them. Finally I concluded that I must have considered the dreams as intended solely for Anna:

“My feeling about the fact that I didn’t keep a copy of these dreams for myself was that I was dreaming them for you … And because we’d had the battle about me not wanting to read the poems aloud, the poems became dreams—but somehow they were only for you, not for me.”

“Yes … and you were able to talk about them.”

“But it’s interesting that I didn’t feel a need to keep a copy—as if they weren’t actually mine to keep.”

“Well, a lot of what we talked about at that time was about you really wanting us to be ever so ‘together’. And because you’d told me the dreams, there was a sense that you were ‘putting them into me’, and so they were kind-of ‘parked’—and that felt okay.”

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