The fantasy was already here when I arrived; the community of persons was already here, outside my mother's womb. I fell down a rabbit hole, as I recall, and, plop, found myself in the middle of the play. The I who fell was my mother and me. When I found her out here in the fantasy my part in the play began.

According to Freud there is a period in that initial post-partum development when the organs of the fantasy are not yet unifed in such a way as to contitute a whole person. Each organ is pursuing its own pleasure; "polymorphous perversity." It is in relationship with the community of whole persons that these organs of fantasy can learn to co-operate and, like magic, produce something called a person.

The community is the person; a whole person is made up of partial persons. Everything in reality is made of parts. Every real person is simultaneously a partial person; to be a whole person is to be part of a greater whole person. Once in the play there is no exit, through which a whole person can pass. To pass through the exit the person must fall apart. Thus, the play doesn't go on forever. At some point in the play the curtain comes down and the players and audience all go home to bed.