PATIENT'S SITUATION AT THE TIME OF ANALYSIS: At this point, it might be well to break off from the interpretation of the dream and review Mrs. F's personal situation and the background that led to the start of her analysis.
She approached me at a social gathering held at the school that our sons attended. She and I had met casually on other occasions, but this was the first time we spoke in private.
She told me she was interested in undergoing psychoanalysis and asked if she could call me at my office the following day for some professional advice. When she called, she stated she'd decided she wanted to undertake analysis with me “rather than with some ‘perfectly competent’ shrink you might refer me to.”
An appointment was made to discuss the pros and cons of her seeking treatment with an analyst with whom she shared several social acquaintances. At this meeting, she resisted all suggestions that she follow up on my proffered referrals. “I want you! The truth is we barely know one another and our circles barely touch. The only connection is that our sons attend the same school. Should I be deprived of your analytic skills because of that? Or is there something else? Yes, I think there is! You've heard gossip about me… me and some of my peccadilloes. Well, maybe that's why I need you. Isn't a person in need entitled to the therapist of her choice?”*11
*10 Mrs. F spoke of having assembled a large collection of riding crops, the most prized of which, she said, was a crop her father had given her when she was a little girl and he first set her on a horse.
*11 What Mrs. F had said was true: I had heard gossip about her. She was well-known in the community because of the notoriety surrounding Belle's abduction, her activities were regularly reported in the social columns of the local papers, and certain aspects of her behavior, regarded by some as scandalous, were widely discussed. For this reason, I deferred a decision until I could consult on ethical and professional considerations with a colleague, my former training analyst who was also president of the local psychoanalytic institute. After a wide-ranging discussion, this colleague recommended that I accept Mrs. F's suggestion. ‘You certainly have my blessing in the matter. After all, why should the lady be deprived? And if problems do arise, my door is always open for consultation.’
I bring this up for two reasons: to clarify the record as to all ramifications surrounding treatment, and to put the transference and countertransference issues that arose during therapy into better perspective.
The gossip to which Mrs. F referred concerned her relationship with a certain notorious local personality. This man, C, owner of a high-class restaurant-nightclub that also had a back room for illegal gambling, was widely believed to have underworld connections. It was also widely believed that Mrs. F was C's mistress, a fact which Mrs. F confirmed in her second session. In the same session, she stated that her relationship with C was “extremely complex” and that she had thought about breaking it off but was hesitant because C “has this terrible temper” and “he's been known to get violent with women when he thinks they're betraying him.” In response to my query as to whether in fact she was betraying him, she smiled demurely, adding “that depends on what you mean by betrayal.”*12
As these seductive references arose frequently over the weeks during which her key dream was under interpretation, I made numerous attempts to demonstrate connections between this behavior and the dream content.
ANALYSIS (continued):
Having established that ‘everything in the dreams is about sex,’ I reminded Mrs. F of her seduction of her college therapist, Dr. L.
“Do you think I'm doing the same thing with you?” she asked. Then, in the face of my silence, she offered the following extraordinarily perceptive response to her own query: “If it's true I am, and I can see why you might think so, then there must be some connection to the dream.”
This was the opening I'd been waiting for, an opportunity to explore the dream at a deeper level. "I'd like you to tell me about the horse you're riding, whatever comes to mind."
“Well,” she said, “as I've told you, he was a stallion, black, black as night.” She broke off her statement and then, after a brief silence, suddenly turned her head around to meet my eyes. “I know just what you're thinking,” she said, aggressively. Resuming her normal position on the couch, she continued scornfully: “You're thinking “black horse” equals ‘Blackjack’ You'd have me having sex with my father in the dream. That's what all you analysts think we want – to screw our fathers, right?”
When I reminded Mrs. F that the equation she'd just presented had come from her not me, she stated: “You led me straight to it like a horse to water, didn't you?’
But despite her brief flurry of resistance, Mrs. F quickly showed interest in pursuing this line of interpretation. She offered: “Dad was teaching me to ride fast and free. That was how I always wanted to ride but wasn't allowed to by Mom. All those years studying with G, learning to do that stupid dressage! But riding fast and free is what I do in the dream, once I get going anyway. I break out from the pack. I go so fast I nearly fly. That's what's so wonderful, so liberating, so sexy, I guess – riding my magnificent black horse faster than the wind!"
At the end of the session Mrs. F said she felt exhilarated. “I think we made real progress today.” She apologized for snapping at me. “I think maybe I did that because what you said just cut too close to the bone.”
During the next session, resistance showed itself again. “I know what you're thinking – that Dad fondled me too much the way Mom accused him of doing. But I know that isn't true. He was just a loving guy, a real hands-on-type guy. That's how he trained horses – talking to them softly, touching them, fondling them if you will. That's just how he was. There wasn't anything sexual about the way he touched me.”
However, again her resistance quickly gave way when I explained to her that it wasn’t so much a matter of her father's intentions or what he actually did, but how his touching affected her, especially as
*12 When I remained silent in accordance with standard therapeutic practice, Mrs. F continued: ”I may not be betraying him now but I have in the past and I can't imagine I won't want to again.”
From the very start of her analysis, Mrs. F slipped in numerous references such as this regarding her self-described “voracious sexuality.” She seemed to go to great pains and to take special pleasure in making it clear to me just how highly sexed she was. She said of herself “I guess I'm a, you know – a real nympho…” and on many occasion as she referred to herself as “a slut,” “a hussy,” “a real bitch-slut, “a bitch-in-heat,” etc. Such usages made sharp contrast with her otherwise dignified, ladylike, indeed aristocratic self-presentation. There was no question that these references were blatant attempts to be seductive with me. the overheard quarrel about it between her mother and father planted her mother's notion that it was wrongfully sexual in her mind.
Mrs. F readily accepted this interpretation. “If I'm twisted, it must be Mom who made me this way,” she said. She then launched into a lengthy list of grievances against her mother, all pertaining to her mother's teachings that sex was dirty and wrong and thus should not and could not be enjoyed. “I sure rebelled against that!” she said. “I adore sex.”
When I pointed out that she used the same word, ‘adore,’ in regard to her feelings toward horses, she quickly put the interpretations together: “I ‘adore’ sex and I ‘adore’ horses. I feel sexy riding horses and I like to ‘ride’ my lovers when I have sex. I like to ride their cocks and I like to ride their faces, too. In the dream I ride a big black horse, which could be Blackjack, and it was Blackjack, Dad, who first put me on a horse and taught me how to ride. I know having sex with Blackjack is wrong, so Blackjack breaks apart beneath me as I ride him. And then I come, just the way I do when I have sex with my lovers. I ride them till they come, till they ‘break.’ Then I come and break too. So there it is, at least the center of it.” At which point she turned her head toward me. “That's what you wanted me to see, isn't it?”