Good morning, everybody.
I was in a hospital. Possibly whatever I had been there for was all taken care of. But I don't know whether I was trying to leave. It seems to me now like I was going up and down in an elevator. I was confused somehow about where I was going on the elevator. Someone else may also have gotten on the elevator and made the elevator go in a different direction from the one I wanted.
Eventually I was outside the hospital. I got into a car with my family. It was a black night. Now it may have been like both my mom and I had been in the hospital. We had somehow brought toys from the hospital for my nephews and niece.
My niece pointed out something wrong with her toy. Her toy was some kind of male action figure. The problem with the toy may have been something in the packaging, like there was a hole or tear in the clear plastic around the action figure. My niece pointed this out to me as if to imply that by giving her a toy with this kind of fault, I was showing that I didn't care about her.
I felt bad that my niece felt this way. I believe my niece (who is only four years old) told me that if I wanted to fix things, I should go to my psychiatrist. My niece may also have told me that there was something going on in my psychiatrist's life that my psychiatrist really wanted to tell me about. My psychiatrist may even have asked my niece to tell me to come see her.
So I went to my psychiatrist's house. My psychiatrist opened the door. She was in a white nightgown. She hadn't expected to see me here, since I hadn't made an appointment or anything. But she let me into the house. She led me through a lit living room, through a room like a study, which was unlit, and into a room I thought at first was a visiting room, but which was actually a bedroom. The room was almost totally dark.
I could hear a football game blaring in the living room. I thought my psychiatrist had been watching the game. I told her that I was sorry I was interrupting the game. I said I didn't need to see her right now, if she'd rather see the game. I was just told to come over here, so I did so as soon as possible.
My psychiatrist said it was no problem, that she was actually glad I'd come. I could tell she really wanted to tell me something, but I couldn't guess what. Part of me thought that she really wanted me here because she wanted to have sex with me.
My psychiatrist said she'd turn on the lights so that we could see each other in her visiting room. She flicked a light switch on. No lights came on. The room was still dark. But my psychiatrist and I were both satisfied, as if the lights had come on.
I could see that my psychiatrist was wearing a protective paper or cloth mask over her mouth and nose. This kind of scared me. I realized that maybe what my psychiatrist wanted to tell me was that she had some kind of really bad illness. My psychiatrist's nightgown, I noticed, was also very sheer. My psychiatrist was wearing white panties, which I could see very plainly. I was really turned on, and I began to hope that my psychiatrist actually did want to have sex with me.
My psychiatrist sat on her bed, with her back propped up against the headboard and her legs stretched out on the mattress. She said she'd been in the hospital all day today. It seemed to me she was feeling pretty depressed. I wasn't really interested about talking about my own problems anymore. I really felt bad for coming to talk about them now, while my psychiatrist was in such bad condition. All I wanted to do was make sure she was okay.
My psychiatrist, though, seemed reluctant to give any details about her own condition. It seemed like she had asked me to talk about myself, like she was really trying to carry on a session between her and me. But she was also still talking about her condition, or at least making her own anguish known through her body language.
She now flopped down and rolled over on the bed, so that she was face down on the bed, laying sideways across the mattress, instead of with her head at the headboard and her feet at the baseboard. For some reason, I took this as another indication that my psychiatrist wanted to have sex with me. I thought I should get on top of her while she was in this position.