Dualities abounded last week in the town so nice they named it twice.

If Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle’s tragic crash into an Upper East Side apartment building had New Yorkers flashing back to 9/11 and Thurman Munson, it may have been because last week triggered an overwhelming number of memories.

It was a week filled with the supernatural: Representative Mark Foley’s putatively tipsy instant-messaging flirtations with teen pages came back to haunt him, causing him to give up the ghost on his political career and conjure up tales of his own childhood sexual abuse.

I don’t have enough time to finger-point,” declared an uncharacteristically busy President Bush last week, but self-exculpating digits and tongues were wagging everywhere else.

Manhattan remained the world’s capital of geopolitical stand-up.

For a week that passed in the shadow of the darkest day in city history, it probably was not surprising that red, white, and blue were on display, along with a surprising kaleidoscope of other colors.

As a million backpacked youngsters thronged back into classrooms last week, the rest of us were suddenly back in high school, too.

For an August week in which temperatures stayed mild, an odd sense of crankiness abounded.

It was an extraordinary week for attempts at self-­reinvention.