Lets talk about dreams

  "So Taylor," Dr.Mino said, motioning for me to sit in the large, uncomfortable leather chair on the patient side of his desk, "Tell me what you would like to talk about today."

  I sat and opened my lips to speak, distracted for a moment when Dr.Mino's pen became poised on his notepad, "Dreams," I said, and he wrote something down.

"What about dreams," he asked, pushing his thin framed glasses higher on his stubby nose.

"Those don't make you look any more professional," I said, glancing over his short and wide body type as he sat back in his chair, continuing when Dr.Mino gave me a look, "I've been having a recurring dream."

"Tell me about it," he said smiling. To me it looked forced.

"Well, I'm in the forest," I began, trying to picture the dream in my mind, " and there's a girl I don't know by my side.

"We sat on the ground, a soft downy blanket beneath us. I see her dig into a wicker picnic basket, shyly hiding her face behind her curtain of black hair. Her pale hands brought a soft drink to her petal colored lips and all at once I was filled with an emotion I have never felt before."

"Can you expand on that?"

"I don't know" I shrugged.

"Was it anger? Sadness? Love?" He paused and I took the chance to answer.

"It was none of those."

"Could it have been lust Taylor?"

I froze, "n-no," I was only able to squeeze out that one word.

"Are you positive you dont know the girl in your dream-"

"Dead positive, now can I finish my dream?" I nearly yelled. My fingers tapped loudly against the side of the chair, echoeing in the vast space of Dr.Mino's office walls, making clear how annoyed I was.

"Please then... Continue."

"She looked at me and I leaned forward. My hands came up and I couldn't control myself when I wrapped them around her neck. I swear it was like a monster came over me and I started shaking her, wrangling her neck between my palms. Her mouth was open as she tried to scream but I closed my hands tighter around her throat, making it impossible for her. She started turning blue, her eyes began to bugle and I could see it in them that she was about to give up. Right as I saw her eyes flutter close I let go. Her unconscious body sucked in a painful, ragged breath and I smiled looking down at her. I reached over to the picnic basket, grabbing the handle of a steak knife I guess I had packed. I ran my fingers over the serrated edge, then plunged the tip straight into the girls leg. The pain must have awoken her because she shot up, finally able to scream. And scream she did." My sentence died on those words and I had to swallow the lump in my throat before looking at a blank faced Dr.Mino.

I couldn't even fathom what he could have been thinking about me. Maybe he'd send me to a mental institution, "a danger to others," he would probably say. Since I was little I never played nice. It was only now after I had hit my girlfriend that my mom forced me to see the psychiatrist.

"What do you think It means?"

"Well... Is that all that happened?" He asked.

I shook my head, "theres more but I stopped before it got bloody."

"Well maybe you should continue another day," Dr.Mino shifted in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. He knawed his lip as he waiting for me to stand, signaling my leave.

"But Dr.Mino what if I hit my girlfriend again?" I questioned him, desperate to know if there was something to off put punching the girl I love.

"I'll give you anger management classes" He said, quickly scribbling on his notepad.

"But-"

"The session is up," He stood then, forcefully pushing his chair back away from him.

I jumped at the loud shriek it's legs made against the floor. I shakily stood, grabbing the paper he held out to me with his short, thick fingers. I turned once I had it and walked in a daze to the glass double doors of Dr.Mino's office. My mom sat in the waiting room of the lobby, hands clutched tightly on her purse. She was always stressing over one thing or another.

"How'd it go sweetie?" She asked, her voice tinkling with worry.

"I have anger management classes,"I checked the paper," 5-8. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday."

She sighed," alright well.. At least it's a start."

Not a very good one.