I dreamed I saw my maternal grandmother sitting by the bank of a swimming pool, which was also a river. In real life, she had been a victim of Alzheimer's disease and had regressed to a semi-conscious state. In the dream, as well, she had lost her capacity for self-control. Her genital region was exposed, dimly; it had the appearance of a thick mat of hair. She was stroking herself, absentmindedly. She walked over to me, with a handful of pubic hair compacted into something resembling a large artist's paintbrush. She pushed this at my face. I raised my arm, several times, to deflect her hand; finally, unwilling to hurt her, or interfere with her any further, I let her have her way. She stroked my face with the brush, gently, and said, like a child, “Isn 't it soft?” I looked at her ruined face and said, “Yes, Grandma, it's soft.”