Nat arrived late for our appointment; only five minutes late, but nonetheless unheard of for him. The reason? His body ached all over from the frenzies of the regression session; yes, and so did mine.

How could he explain what he had experienced, the different “characters”? He was hasty to discount reincarnation, but he did expound a reasonably intelligent theory. Namely, that the “characters” were merely personifications of his own repressed “traits”, as it were, with fragments of information recalled from the subconscious.

It is important, in psychoanalysis, to take into account the patient’s interpretation of events. Here, however, I think that Nat’s concept is as good as any. Therefore I attempted to question Nat about these various “traits”. He said he did not understand them and refused to speak, resorting to his infuriating cackling. He was almost hyperventilating. I had to change tack. The violent crazed man he became; could it have been a “ghost” from his childhood? His parents were sure they didn’t know of anyone like it when I had questioned them last night. I put this to Nat. He was fairly shocked by the notion, as if his theory was the most logical, and therefore true. I told him how offensive I found the stereotyped effeminate homosexual, but he just tittered. I am still finding difficulty working out just what his smiles and laughter mean. They don’t seem to be a purely nervous reaction, but anxiety is the emotion that comes most to mind when one thinks of Nathaniel Snoxell.

I wondered if Nat’s aggression had been directed at me; not me personally, but at my role as a catalyst in Nat’s life. He confessed to having felt this in the therapy session but saw it as irrational in the clear light of day.

When working intimately with patients I invariably develop loving feelings for them. This is the case with Nat and I divulged this to him. I am happy to say, he confided in me that he was not unaware of his own loving feelings for me. In the past I have had to be scrupulously careful with young people, as they have regularly and openly sought my affections. The opposite is true with Nat, who would appear to be the perfect prude.

TUE MAR 11

Nat’s mood remains dark and sombre. I advised him to go out for a walk each day. This he has promised to undertake.

Last night I dreamt of a frightful house, constructed entirely from nerves and veins. Numerous were the heads growing from the sides of the walls and from the floorboards, each one flinging itself about madly, deliberately attempting to crick its neck. I was able to steer the dream into gentler imagery. It would seem that years of dreamworld forgetfulness have taken their toll on me. I was not prepared for the bad taste the dream left, haunting me throughout the day. Its source would appear to be last week’s primal session with Nat, and a particularly severe case of haemorrhoids which I treated a few days later.