Dream Walker

Chapter 5 | Sometimes, a Cat Is Just a Cat

The walls were painted a soft robin's egg blue, probably meant to be calming. No cutesy posters adorned the tranquil walls, only stretched canvases displaying typical American landscapes. They didn't look that expensive or original—probably Thomas Kinkade. Two bookshelves aesthetically balanced the room, located on each side of the mahogany desk. From the massive textbooks to the framed awards, the room decor could have been displayed in a catalog that demonstrated how to create the ideal psychologist's office.

"Hostility is unnecessary, Ms. O'Neill. You sought me out of your own volition. I believe you want help, and I can assist you in solving these issues." Dr. Schoff gently, but frequently, chastised her when he noticed her attitude slipping into sarcasm or enmity.

She couldn't help it, really. She held very little regard for the field of psychology. Yet, here she was again. Though his techniques for grounding herself in reality after waking had worked the past few nights, her dreams had only continued to worsen, and the sleep deprivation was accumulating rapidly. Perhaps that was contributing to her unpleasant disposition.

"I just wanted to make myself clear. Nothing traumatic is happening in my life that would explain my dreams. I've been having them for years now."

"So your only concern is the insomnia?"

"Yes."

"Have you considered that anticipating disturbing dreams might cause stress and keep you awake?"

Callie bit her tongue to prevent more 'hostile' words from emerging. Her arms, crossed tightly above her abdomen, likely gave away her state of mind. "I have considered that. As I said, I've been having the dreams for years, and I'm only now experiencing insomnia."

Dr. Schoff considered her statement for a moment, then moved to a different topic. "What exactly do you remember dreaming of last night?"

Callie swallowed and prepared herself. "I was in a maze, with hedges that towered over me. I was looking for someone or something." Callie paused, allowing him to comment.

"Well, dreaming of a labyrinthian structure can suggest you're feeling confused, lost, overwhelmed. Perhaps you are attempting to understand the reason for your overactive unconsciousness?" Dr. Schoff suggested.

Oh great, he analyzes dreams just as well as the internet. At least Google didn't charge by the hour. Again, she prevented herself from letting this cynicism creep into her voice.

"I doubt my confusion would prompt screaming from the depths of the maze," Callie replied. She coolly leveled her gaze at the man across from her.

He sat in a plush blue patterned chair identical to the one in which she reclined. If the stripes had been burgundy and cream, it would have been identical to one her great aunt had owned. Callie could still remember the chair, dirty and outdated, sitting in the grass while her great uncle arranged a yard sale. Their savings were completely drained by his wife's funeral, and he had to sell everything to afford the move to an assisted living facility. Dr. Schoff probably wouldn't have to worry about probate or insufficient funds.

The man's right ankle rested on his left knee, and a legal pad sat atop his crossed leg. He took occasional notes, and Callie wondered what exactly he was noting. Perhaps he only doodled. She imagined his notebook was full of sketches of boring pastoral landscapes like the paintings on the wall.

When she first considered talking to a psychologist about her recent troubles with sleep, Callie had searched through the university's counseling center website. She had no preference for any of the listed shrinks, so she settled for the first available appointment. She knew Dr. Schoff was a highly trained professional, yet her initial estimation of his usefulness consisted of equating him to a mechanic. When a car stopped functioning properly, you called up a technician to diagnose and solve the problem. These appointments felt like routine maintenance, and she hoped to soon have her brain fixed more permanently.