I sat there as my receptionist walked in and said "Dr. Hopkins is here to see you now."
"Ah, my three O'clock, send him in." Dr. Hopkins, a most unusual patient of mine, he seems to believe that he is whoever he comes in contact with, for instance, whenever he sat down with him, Dr. Hopkins seemed to believe that he was a psychologist, such a strange man. After all it's not everyday that you get a patient in a mental hospital like him.
The good doctor walked in and sat down on the chair, I always preferred that my patients sit in the chair rather then the bed, it helped them feel as if their role was not already being judged.
"Good morning Jasper." We kept things informal
. "Are you ready for some questions." he asked. A little game we play, he pretends to ask me questions and I'll get to study him while he talks.
"Of course, just let me...oh dear, I seem to have misplaced my notepad." I begin to pat myself down, why do I never seem to buy clothes with pockets in them, it really be more convenient.
"Oh don't worry, I have an extra one." He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a torn up notepad, it was messy, but it have to do. I grabbed it and began to flip though to find a blanket page. The notepad was full of scribbles with meaningless words, strange drawings, and incoherent ramblings. Poor chap.
"Now" Dr. Hopkins began. "Are you a Freudian?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Are you a Freudian, do you subscribe to the theory's of Sigmund Freud?"
Ah, he must have been picking up names and such from all of our session. "Oh, no no, I am a Jungian. So there'll be no blaming mother today."
He nodded and wrote down something in the other notepad he had, more incoherent scribbles no doubt. I felt bad for him.
"How are we feeling today?" I asked, I never used the word I unless he asked me a question, I didn't want him to feel like he was the patient with a problem, oh the looks he gave me when I first started my session with him. "Why, I feel wonderful today." He told me. "The sky is clear, the garden is blooming and the patients can have a half hour of being out there." That should please him, poor doctor hated being cooped up inside all day. Told me himself once, I consider it one of the milestones in our progress.
Our session continued for the hour. Near the end I smile. "Dr Hopkins, we understand that you enjoy our sessions, and we promise, we will do everything we can to get you better." I stood up from the bed stopping my feet from swinging and then stopped. The feeling of ice ran up my legs. Slowly my head moved down and I saw it, my feet had no shoes, no socks on them, they where bare.
I bent down and touched it and then I noticed the stark, bleached, white pants that I had on, going up to the string less waist I touched it before feeling my shirt, thin, and cotton. I shake my head, I'm in a patients outfit! This can't be right, sure, I don't have pockets...now...as a psychologist, why shouldn't I have pockets? Where do I keep my wallet, my car keys, my coupon to the local frozen yogurt shop!
I'm not a patient, I can't be a patient! This isn't happening! I back away and slip on the floor, falling down and pressed up against the wall. My breathing was heavy and my eyes, wild and confused. In the distance I think I hear. "Nurse, Nurse he's realized it! Get the sedative!" I see my receptionist come in, she has a needle. Why does she has a needle? She looms over me, and everything fades to black.
The next day.
I sat there as my receptionist walked in and said "Dr. Hopkins is here to see you now."
"Ah, my three O'clock, send him in." Dr. Hopkins, a most unusual patient of mine.
