I Dreamed of Angels
Part Three E
"So Mr. Barton, let's start from the top."
A young psychiatrist sat in a large, cozy
couch while her patient reclined in a sofa to the side. His head was laid on a
pillow and his arms were lazily hung on his sides. Not long after he settled
down on the couch, his body started to fidget, as if wanting to release some
pent up secrets that were threatening to consume him.
"My son." was all he said.
"Ok, what about your son bothers you, Mr.
Barton?"
"Everything about him bothers me. I think
he's been born to make my life a living hell."
"Please explain further."
Mr. Barton sighed. He knew this was going
to be another one of those sessions where he would end up yakking about his son
until his one hour was up. He was very sure that this psychiatrist had a
purpose for him and that purpose involved lots and lots of cash. These sessions
weren't helping him and he felt that they might as well poke him with a stick
until all the coins fall out.
"Ok. Fine. I'll tell you, just like I did
last time."
He inhaled deeply and began his tale.
"Remember, I told you that he's the demon's
pawn?"
"Yes." The psychiatrist was not going to
comment on that yet again.
"He causes so much trouble with everyone.
He's been threatening the servants, letting his pet snakes roam around the
house to find their own dinner, terrorizing the kids in school, kissing all the
girls, etc., etc. etc. You know what I mean, right?"
"Of course, but what's so bad about kissing
girl?"
"He said it's the only way to shut them up.
He has this little inclination to see them run from fear of him. You see, they
think he's a demon too."
"Maybe he just wants attention."
"I *do* give him the attention he needs. I
get him everything he wants. I spend at least half of my day trying to do
something with him. I even listen to his whimsical little dreams. For goodness
sake! I even feed his obsession."
"Now, let's not get defensive Mr. Barton.
If you're ready, you can tell me about that obsession."
Mr. Barton shifted his position. What else
could he do but waste time talking to this stranger? He knew this was a lost
cause but he still felt the need to come every week. Maybe it was a stress
relief or maybe it was the only way he could get someone to listen to his
frustrations about his little boy. Either way, he felt better that he was here.
At least he could get something out of this little session which cost more than
his last dental appointment.
"Ok" he began, feeling more inclined to
talk for the remaining time he had. "Ever since he had that little 'angel'
dream, he's been too intent on finding something."
"What is he trying to find?"
The psychiatrist was also starting to shift
in her seat. This time, the words that were coming out of her client's mouth
were not the usual complaints. This little boy they were talking about started
to spark an interest in her thoughts. She stopped doodling hearts in her paper
and instead, began to draw little angels all over her pad. It was still
unprofessional, but at least it was a change.
"Everything! I don't know. He tells me that
he doesn't know either. He said he feels that he's missing something important.
He keeps telling me or rather, demanding me to find it. How should I know what
to do? I'm not psychic. I can't read into his soul."
"Ok Mr. Barton. Calm down. Tell me, in what
way does this search affect his attitude?"
"If he doesn't get what he wants, he causes
trouble. You should see my servants. They're too scared to even go near him."
He sighed and then continued. "I think they all need to come here and see you.
We're all psychologically impaired."
The psychiatrist's eyes began to sparkle.
It seemed that this 'doctor' heard the coming of a sack of cash. Yes, that new
beach house she always wanted would just be a few disgruntled servants away.
She was starting to go into a long,
blissful daydream when her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
"Of course, I wouldn't do that. If I did
them I won't have enough money to pay for everything else. I think they should
just continue with their own little therapy. Maybe talking amongst themselves
about my son's terror is enough to calm them down."
The image of the new beach house quickly
disappeared into thin air.
"Oh well." the young professional thought.
"I can always find a ton of other disoriented people to come my way."
"Could you tell me again about this
search." she continued.
"I've already told you about it." he
answered. "Anyway, I think our time is up. I have to get back to work so I'll
see you the same time next week."
"Ok. It was nice listening to you Mr.
Barton."
She handed him the bill and smiled
contentedly. "Same time next week." she said as she lead him out the door.
On the other side, another client was
waiting. After waving goodbye to the distressed Mr. Barton, she welcomed her
new patient in.
"So
how's that Christmas play going? Are you still having trouble with that little
angel of yours?" she asked.