ABSTRACT
I regained non-analytic consciousness to find I had a baby, a home, no wife but a simple, shrewd and helpful woman, and a father to whom I had offered my home since the death of my mother left him unwilling to live in a house haunted by memories of a dead partner who had shared a tempest-tossed and responsible career with him. I also acquired a practice without ever having come to a deliberate, conscious and voluntary decision to do so. I was paid, but since I had no money of my own beyond the remnants of a gratuity long since exhausted and a fund originally intended to support my wife and child in the event of my demise, the outlook seemed bleak. It was redeemed partly by the fact that my professional work was interesting, if not particularly valuable to the world in which I lived. Still, I hoped it might become so, as I felt no urge to devote myself to money-making.
