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The dream is disguised as an erotic poem about my analysis. I think it’s about feeling that psychoanalytic intimacy is transgressive. In the dream there is the thrill of wrongdoing; however, what I find really thrilling is working closely together, shoulder to shoulder, head to head, and somehow penetrating each other in ways that feel out of control and ecstatically wrong, but are, in fact, right.
They are sitting on the floor,They lean hard against each other.Studying the cell phone,Too close,Transgressive,Their bodies crash together, side by side,as if it’s not happening at all, but it is.Longing, balled up tight like papertossed in a trash can, unfolding.