Psycho-Cricket
and he makes a firm sweep to leg, clearing the mantelpiece of its clutter. Don't hunt for obscurities, he frowns. I give him my panic dream of missing the last train home, and searching for a coach instead.
His eyes glint. This dream he says, is about the English cricket team.
Notice the word 'train'. We need them to train till they drop in the crease.
He picks up a bat, takes middle and off at the coffee table. And then how did the dream go?
Reluctantly I mention the coach. Of course, the coach archetypal team icon!
I edge in my own theories relating to identity, inadequacy and indigestion, My analyst runs in, dressed in white, fresh from the nets where he's been knocking up.
Un-velcroing his gloves with his teeth he waves me to the couch. Did you dream last night?
Connie Bensley
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