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     "My  earliest  memory  is  of  my  father  holding me
before  the firebox  door of a  wood  stove  and  almost
throwing me into the fire.  What do I mean by 'almost'?
Was  he making teasing motions? Did the thought that
he  could   do  that   flash  through  his  mind,  perhaps
subconsciously even, and then, expelled from his mind
in horror,  dive  telepathically  into my consciousness?
No. In fact, what I  have recalled is a very early dream.
    "I didn't realize that my memory was of a dream and
not of an actual incident until I was about eleven years
old. I asked my parents,  as casually as  I  could, if they
could  remember  teasing  me  in  that  way.  They were
horrified  and  possibly hurt  as  well—that's  not their
kind  of joke.  Even  as  I  asked,  I  knew  that  it hadn't
really  happened.   Indeed,  only  when  I  knew  that  it
hadn't  happened  could  I  risk asking. But for all those
years that dream/memory nested in  my consciousness,
doing its work.
     "What work?  In college, studying Freud, I said, 'Ah
ha! The  Oedipal  conflict."  Now  I  am convinced  that
though  the  Oedipal  conflict is  there,  it's  not what is
interesting   about   the   dream.   'Discovering'  that  a
dream   contains   the   Oedipal   conflict  is  somewhat
analogous   to   'discovering'    that   a  Shakespearean
sonnet has four parts within its fourteen lines.
     "The time when  I  began to explore the significance
of the dream,  at  age eleven,  was  the  beginning  of a
period  of   growing  alone,   not  lonely,  but   growing
myself—independent  of  my family.  The  memory  had
been  disturbing  but  even at  the  tender  age  of 5-11,
more   interesting    than   frightening.   I   was   always
pleased to encounter the memory.
     "You  are  perhaps  thinking that  I  must  have been
an awfully morbid  child to enjoy such  a  grim fantasy.
Nothing could be farther from the truth. My childhood
was extraordinarily free, happy  and full of adventure.
So  what   was   the   work   of   the   dream   disturbing,
potentially horrifying,  but in the long run  more good
than evil?
     "The   incident   that   precipitated   the   dream  was
probably something  like my  father holding me  in  his
arms while feeding a stick of wood into the fire. A vivid
detail of the dream  is the flash  of color and heat from

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