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A Very Long Journey

Snow hits the windshield wipers on an April night. The passenger seat is warm. I turn to my husband Jake. “Remember those nightmares in which I couldn’t find my voice to yell for help? Startled and gasping, I would wake myself up? I haven’t had one of those in a long time.” Jake nods at the wheel. We are returning from the first night of our dream analysis course. Jake, who is repeating this course taught by a friend and psychotherapist, is now a total convert; a dream fundamentalist. Jake swims ocean deep; daily attention to his subterranean messages with pen in hand, deep listening. Personally, I consider dream analysis as much fun as digging trenches in rocky gardens. However, if freedom

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