After the analytic hour with my analyst (Smith) we embrace and kiss and he asks me for a date at his place. I drive up later in my own car. He lives in a castle, guarded by livred footmen and is the equivalent of a "king." I have a pass to go into the castle. A large auditorium-like room. W. looks like Dionysius, holding a glass of wine, full of enjoyment of life. We sit down at a table in a dimly lit night club and talk and sip drinks. A friend of W. comes by and slaps me on the back, as if to say, "Quite an achievement gal."