I'm in San Francisco, though it has tinges of Santa Cruz. In a downtown plaza, I meet a ponytailed brunette--Silky, my anima! She looks really good.

We talk. She steers the conversation round to healing from sexual trauma. She's confident and adult now except for sex--she's still acting out adolescent problems. Childhood brainwashing crushed her sexual confidence, so she never had good experiences in her teens; she's still playing catch-up from way behind.

Her worst symptom: adolescent over-romanticizing.

"So who or what do you romanticize? I ask. Not that I'm fully expecting a clear answer.

But Silky has one. "National Geographic Magazine!"

'Well', I think. 'That's an unusual choice for a fixation...'

NEXT DAY

On break in the library staff room for lunch, I pick up a magazine at random (the New Yorker, maybe?) and stumble on a cartoon. I didn't tear it out, so this sketch won't be super accurate, but it was something like this--two dumpy urban homebodies dressed in pith helmets, khaki, boots and binoculars, like they're Victorian-era Great White Hunters...when they're just renewing National Geographic magazine!

Romanticizing it indeed.

2020 NOTE

Other dreamworkers who report possible psychic dreams foresee plane crashes or danger to their loved ones. But why would anyone bother to foresee a cartoon? Just to reaffirm that my dreams are psychic? If so, I'm convinced.

But I'm less convinced it's a good dating strategy. For the next few months, I'd better assume that romantically speaking I'm both psychic and... really stupid.

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