Yesterday, my mom, a psychotherapist, and I took little Samuel to the Freud museum. He dutifully fell asleep in the house’s back garden. What better place to doze off than in the home of the founder of the psychoanalytical interpretation of dreams.
But it’s not that hard to think what the munchkin might have dreamed of: food, milk, lots of food, lots of milk, more food and more milk, giant mountains of…
— From London.
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