I wake up, sweating from a nightmare I can’t remember. My heartbeat is racing with my breath. I need the time to figure out where I am. I sit, look around and find out that I am in my room. I check the time; it is two in the morning. My girlfriend is sleeping soundlessly next to me. None of us is wearing a thing underneath the blanket. I stay there trying to get a grip on myself. Getting my breathing right again. Somehow everything is stagnant. I feel the time stops for me. I look around and everything seems stop for me. No sound to be heard. Maybe I need to change the clock into an analog one. It ticks to prove the passage of time instead the digital one. The only thing moving is her chest going up and down to prove me that the time is still flowing in this room. I look at her peaceful face. Oh how I love her with all I have. I want her to know that. I want to be this peaceful when I am around her. But the longer I look at her, the angrier I get. The angry-me is coming closer. I can hear him running towards me. I have to move from here, away from her.
the session
The Session – part five –
Usually when I dream, I could recall everything happened vividly to the emotion I had when I was in it. Most of them were lucid dreams where I could lead the plot where I want it according to my desire. But last night I had a normal dream where I went with the flow, unable to alter the story. A lot more like a spectator than a director and the main character. I watched everything that happened in front of me. And when woke up, I couldn’t remember details about my dream. It is something new to me. Only the after taste and confusion remained. If I’m going to have this kind of dream from now on, I need to adjust things. Maybe I need to stop trying to recall my dream. Or maybe it is only because I slept at ease last night, that I didn’t pay attention to my dream.
The Session – part four –
I open my eyes slowly as Rose suggests. My body feels tired and stiff as I’ve been sitting unmoving for a long time. How long have I been here? I look at my watch. It’s seven in the night. I couldn’t tell the night has fallen since there is no window inside this massive room. I have been here for four hours but it doesn’t feel like it. It was more like thirty minutes for me inside my head. But my aching body tells the reality. Time distorted as I gone under the session. What a great power. I wish I could do that in a boring meeting. Go inside the meeting room, sit down, and the meeting ends in a blink. I could only wish for that.
I have a lot of things to ask, but that’s for later. As I regain my consciousness, Rose throws her beautiful smile at me. I am blushing somehow because of that with my head feeling a little bit fuzzy and my mouth feels so dry. I need to drink.
“How do you feel now?” It takes a while to get my voice back. I have to swallow my saliva to soak my throat. She waits with her smile like she’s trained to do. Then I tell her that I feel weird. I also tell her that I see a lot of me and ask whether it is normal or not to have imagination.
“First of all, it is not imagination,” she begins, “they all are your egos. They built who you are now through everything happened in your life,” one of my question answered, “they all protect you from any kind of harm,” she’s looking at me as if she’s trying to measure my reaction. I give her none. My mind is trying to remember what just happened. What about gloomy? He was the last one I see before I open my eyes.
The Session – part three –
Rose doesn’t ask what I see or what kind of condition I am in now, so I am not describing a thing about the water filled every inch of the imaginative space I create or I’ve becoming a merman – I prefer merman because I have gills on both of my neck, like Harry Potter. Since she doesn’t say a word, I swim around, swiftly and aimlessly, testing my new skill to the limit. I pretty much swim very fast like Aquaman. I wonder what should I call myself. I also breathe at ease. I can sense the oxygen extracted from the water in my gills to my lungs. I feel great.
“Now I need you to call everyone inside you.” Suddenly I hear her voice next to my ear. Had she moved from her seat? Or have I lost my perception of distance? But before I realize, the merman-me – lets end the merman/Aquaman thing and call myself merman – stops swimming and just floating there in the water like a dead fish. As if his power source was cut just like that. He doesn’t look like he’s breathing or any sign that’s indicating he is alive. He looks like a normal drowned man to me. Lost and alone in the water, he is facing the most tragic death a man could ever imagine. I begin to panic. Would it be okay? What is she talking about? Without knowing a thing, I look around for help and slowly from the darkness of the sea, I can see image of someone emerging into view.
“Nod to me if someone else is there,” she says and I nod immediately.
“So can I speak to the wise one, please,” she continues. As if nothing happened, merman-me has regained his swift moves and begin to swim towards the silhouette. Slowly as I get closer, I can see another me standing there – yes, standing inside the water! -. His face is calm and he holds his hands behind his back like an old man. Probably that might suggest as a wise gesture? Or since it is in my imagination, maybe it is my idea of a wise man? I have to look it again in the body language dictionary. But even if it’s not, I believe he is since Rose asked me to go to the wise one inside me.
“Hello,” she begins to talk, “have you found the wise one?” I nod to answer that. The wise one turns his head looking into the darkness. Slowly I hear a clacking shoes like you heard from a girl’s high heels. I wonder what might happen now. Soon enough Rose appears from the edge of the the dark, walking closer to the wise one. She stops five feet away from him. They are staring at each other without saying a thing. My heartbeat is racing. What now?
The Session – part two –
“Now close your eyes,” she says to me as I sit there with my legs stretched out under the table. I crossed my arms on my chest at first, but then I remember about the body language thing. My gesture now, might suggesting her that I am not opening up to her. So I move my arms to my sides and let them rest there. I close my eyes as I was told. My mind begins to take over. Did I tell her everything? Have I missed something? Not that I am afraid that I didn’t tell everything as it is, but I need help and it would be nice if I could get over it as soon as possible. And to get that help I believe that I need to tell her everything.
She listened to my words with extra care when I was telling her why I am her. Or at least that what she wants me to believe. Nothing is sure for me in this psychological matter. I begin to doubt every little thing. She might just pretending to be my ally to earn my trust so I could open up to her. Either way it is, I have to tell everything so I could get her help. It was my choice to tell her everything. I need her help and she needs my trust. So it’s about give and take relationship here. I wish the world understands that.
“Try not to think about anything else and concentrate on your breathing.” Again, I do what she said. “Try to release yourself from your thought. On each breath you take, it will make you fall deeper into a relaxation state,” she pauses there as if letting me to catch up with her words.
The Session – part one –
Something is very wrong with me. I am depressed without knowing the reason. I am not sure about the things happening inside me so that I decided to go to a shrink to figure out what is wrong with me. I told no other soul about this matter. Not my parents, not even my girlfriend knows about it.
The place is an hour trip from my home. I took a day off from my work, excused myself by telling them a lie that I am having a fever today. Not totally a lie since mental illness is a sickness too. Still, I feel a bit guilty that I didn’t tell the truth, especially to my girlfriend that thinks I am working today. I have to tell her later.
I don’t get in right away when I’m arrived. I take a cigarette and light it outside the gate to calm myself. I am fifteen minutes earlier anyway. The place or I should say the house where my psychiatrist works is a normal house that you could find anywhere. Nothing fancy. Nothing special about it. No sign or something alike to distinguished it from the rest. No one would think that inside, it treats sick people like me. Full of secrecy like what people been telling me about such place.
“They will keep everything for themselves as professional helpers. What you talked inside the room is your privacy and they would keep it that way. It’s their policy.” My friend told me once about her experience. “Everything you said, stayed in the room without any possible way escaping it,” she also added, “my psychiatrist never told my parents that I went there when I had an abortion. They are trained to keep your information classified.”
Cunningly.Lost 