Thank you CWT36.

Beads of sweat still glistened on my forehead as I sank into the big black leather couch in my psychiatrist’s office. The bizarre events of the last few days weighed heavily on me. But were they really events? How could these things be, I wondered; it was too much for my overburdened mind.

Dr Tromperie’s presence was comforting, as usual. He leaned forward and injected an occasional “yes, I see”, as I told my story. I covered everything, omitting none of the gruesome details. At the end he removed his glasses, closed his eyes, and pinched the narrow end of his nose; it was a habit I had seen before. It indicted that he was about to explain something again that should be self-evident, but that he will repeat to make sure there is no mistake.

These are dreams you are having my dear, he said, this is not reality. As we have discussed many times before, the real issued here is your dysfunctional and co-dependent relationship with your husband. Let’s look at your last dream. The character Bruce is really Brian, your husband. This much is readily available to the practiced eye, he said, with one eyebrow raising, hands in front of his face, with fingertips touching. The imagery of a conjoined twin represents your entanglement and extreme dependence on your husband. You are joined at the hip metaphorically in life, hence the inspiration for the dream. You have altered the persona to “Bruce”, and changed the relationship in the dream, because even your subconscious is not quite ready to face your relationship problems.

The robot in your dream represents the denial of your humanity and the shutting down of your emotions and independence that are necessary for you to continue in your relationship, the doc continued now, squinting towards some distant point beyond the wall. You are not functioning at full capacity, hence the imagery of a robot, a simplistic and incomplete version of a real person. It is the projection of the aspect of you that has sublimated your feelings. The cutting away of “Bruce” with the knife represents your desire for freedom and independence in real life, and a return to full life status.

The detective figure you mentioned is a symbol for your shame. Individuals are shamed by the police when they make known unsavory activities, bring them to light, and invite public sanction. Yes, yes, this is rich mental imagery, the doctor went on, warming to the subject, pen waving in the air, his voice rising a few decibels. The detective in your dream represents the fear you have that your problematic relationship will be discovered, routed out, brought to an end, and indeed there is a fear there that you may face sanction from friends or family who may, rightly or wrongly, disapprove of you.

I see the McCarthy persona as positive, Dr Tromperie went on. You have constructed a dysfunctional framework to live in, but there are holes beginning to appear. It is crumbling as you gain insight into your situation. New and previously unconsidered possibilities are now coming into view, dropping in on you through the roof, so to speak. Coming from directions you hadn’t imagined before.

I am going to, ah, increase your medication by 20mg a day, the doctor said, looking at the floor. And consider a divorce, soon. You must do this.

Are you sure doc, I said? Sometimes I don’t know if those pills are helping or making things worse.

Trust me, he said, looking out the window this time.

My head was really spinning as I drove home. The doc was usually right about things, but this was complicated. Separation from Brian would be difficult. There was a lot of money involved, for one thing. In a settlement, he may be able to claim half of the family fortune, no small matter indeed. But he was probably right about Brian. He had our relationship pegged pretty well. And Brian had certainly been very distant lately. I guess it was all over.

But wait a minute, I had forgotten something! The prescription, it’s still sitting on the doc’s desk. No choice but to return, its Friday and I won’t be able to go back now until after the weekend.

I was lucky. It was late in the day, but the doctor’s office was still open. I went past the receptionist’s desk, and through the inner door to my doctor’s office. My mouth opened to speak, and then froze in horror.

There was doctor Tromperie and Brian, no clothes on, writhing on the couch!

Doctor Tromperie was gay! Brian was gay! I had been lied to all along! Reality was crashing down upon me like a ton of bricks!

Aaahhh……….aahhhhhh…………aaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!

Thank you etudiant