"I suppose dreams are the key to unlocking our repressed thoughts," Jacob said. "But why do I keep dreaming about a fish?" he wondered. "I took a nap earlier today, and it happened again. It seems so real. It's disturbing. I'd rather just keep snoring away and not have any dreams."
"What happens in the dream?" the psychiatrist asked. "Are you in it?"
"Yes, my hand reaches out for a stick, some kind of magic stick -- a wand. I wave it and a beautiful fish appears, swimming in midair. It makes me happy at first, but then, after a while, I feel sad."
"Why?"
"The fish is dying. Maybe because it's not in the water. It suddenly starts sinking toward the floor, heading right down, straight as an arrow. Plop! I pick up the fish, and it feels all slimy. It's dead."
"Hmmm," the psychiatrist said. "What does that suggest to you?"
"That I'm a fish out of water?" Jacob mused.
"I think you may have something there. But our time's up for this session."
"Here's my credit card," Jacob said. As the psychiatrist took the card, he could not help noticing a slight fishy smell emanating from Jacob's fingers.
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