I'm at a conference. We are sitting at long tables. I am sitting with two women analyst-trainees of mine. One says that she has not been to my lecture but has listened to an old tape of mine. It had been on "the Shadow." The other has not been to my lecture at all. I am disappointed that no one has been to my lectures. I go out. I shuffle past the rows of people. Then James Hillman, one of my training analysts, is talking. It is apparently in his honor. And everyone is yelling James, James, James, James, James. It is his conference. I am jealous of him because he is so productive. Of course people want him. I don't feel I write anything. I haven't produced very much. Then I am sitting in Adelaide with an organizer of my practicum there. She has set out my lectures in detailed points. They are about the Eleusinian mysteries, the women's mysteries. Each moment of the movement is there, like a prewritten symphony. But it is not my talk. But that is what she expects me to talk about. I will talk about the Eleusinian mysteries. I don't have it so detailed in my mind as she has it on paper. She has it point by point in carbon copy. I go out the door and walk down the street. A street with a sidewalk. I want to have the program of my lecture to see what I have promised. I go out to get it. I am in a book- store where I find my publisher's catalog. It is a thick booklet and has many photographs of me outdoors in it. At first it looks as if they have published many of my lectures. I am happy that so much of mine is in print. Then I see that the book is called The Life Outdoors. Pictures of me. The photographs are very rugged. I look very trim and healthy. I don't have a double chin. They are in bright color. I take the book back with me. I'm walking with a woman and say to her that I couldn't be lecturing from that script, the way this woman wants me to do. I have to do my own. It may not be as well organized as hers, but it is mine. She agrees. Then I come to a room where a man and a woman are dancing. He has no voice but he knows that if he keeps on dancing with her it will eventually return. He knows that his love for her will eventually bring him the voice. She is young. There is a Disney kind of feeling to it. She looks like a Disney version of the little mermaid. Finally they whirl into the other room where the piano is and keep on dancing. When they have concluded their time, he has his voice back. He sings in a loud, clear, and beautiful voice, "We now have the strangest love, the strangest love, the strangest love; we now have the strangest love, the strangest love, the strangest love; we now...." And they are whirling about and they are very happy, intensely happy.