Inside Your Mind

Chapter 2

Friday arrived sooner than Christine had thought. She had gotten an email confirming her visit with the therapist the following day when she went to the doctor, and kept the visit in her head the entire time.

She walked down to where she had to meet up with her therapist, and started to feel nervous.

What if they think I'm crazy? Like, beyond their help? Then again, this is their job...

Christine shook her head to get rid of the negative thoughts.

A few minutes later, after doing some other business, she finally met up with her therapist.

"Hello, Christine!" the therapist welcomed her warmly. "How are you, darling?"

"Doing well." She replied shyly. "I just wanted to know what my dream meant."

"And it's nothing like the ordinary?" Christine nodded. "Alright. Sit, let's talk about it."

The therapist listened to Christine as she rambled off all the details about her dream. At some point during her storytelling, she thought it was weird how she could retell all the details, but she carried on, rattling about everything that happened to her. Christine finished talking about an hour later.

The therapist reclined back in the chair. "I think you need more than what I can offer."

Christine tilted her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"I think you need to go to interpersonal therapy, and not so much as person-centered therapy." The therapist said simply. "I can hook you up with someone who can help you, Christine."

Christine felt a little bothered by that. Did she just waste her time telling an important dream?

"Are you available next Friday?" the therapist asked.

"Yes." Christine replied.

"One moment." The therapist stepped out into the hallway, and returned a few minutes later. "Here's their card. You're going in next Friday, whenever you like, or can."

"Thank you." Christine tried to not show her anger.

"I wish you luck." The therapist called as Christine walked away.

Christine walked home and fell onto her bed. She curled up in one of her blankets, and thought for a while, where her doctor should have corrected her on what she actually needed, but maybe he was giving her the freedom to choose, so she can take her own pace. It seemed that she needed the faster pace.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and looked at the calendar to see what would happen in the next twelve to sixteen weeks. She saw that she had a few performances in between now, and the possible end date of her therapy sessions. She memorized the days where she would not be able to talk to the new therapist, and just hoped that she would not be forced to talk everyday otherwise. She sighed and looked more closely at the business card that the other therapist gave her.

On the card, it had the phone number, an email address, a physical address, and the therapist's name. It just said, 'Noir,' though. Christine sighed again and flung it onto her bedside table, and then crawled back out of bed. She fixed herself some dinner, then took a shower, and fell asleep for the night.

|~|

The following Monday, she got a call on her cell phone. She declined it, for she was about to go onto stage, but the phone buzzed again. She silenced her phone, put it in her locker, and then ran out to the stage to perform.

After her performance, she looked back at her phone, and saw thirty missed calls from the same number. They were called at equal intervals, every few minutes. Puzzled, she called the number back. The caller picked up immediately.