and that was unusual because during therapy sessions I always had a great deal of material to bring out and talk about.
Dreams... memories... associations... problems... But now I felt isolated and empty.
Only Stolid Strauss breathing behind me. "I feel strange," I said.
"You want to talk about it?" Oh, how brilliant, how subtle he was!
What the hell was I doing there anyway, having my associations absorbed by little holes in the ceiling and big holes in my therapist?
"I don't know if I want to talk about it," I said. "I feel unusually hostile toward you today."
And then I told him what I had been thinking. Without seeing him, I could tell he was nodding to himself.
"It's hard to explain," I said. "A feeling I've had once or twice before, just before I fainted."
"A lightheadedness... everything intense... but my body feels cold and numb..." "Go on."
His voice had an edge of excitement. "What else?"
"I can't feel my body any more. I'm numb. I have the feeling that Charlie is close by."
"My eyes are open—I'm sure of that—are they?" "Yes, wide open."
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