5: Dreams of a Gigolo
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or situations from Don Juan Demarco the film. I do own my own story line and my own characters. I am SOOOOO sorry for take FOREVER in updating this story! I have been WICKED busy with my own life (moving into college and getting accumulated in my new world hahaha). ENJOY!
Back at your apartment that evening, you find yourself sitting in the sofa, thinking about Johnny. You can't get your mind off of him and his story.
This man has to be telling the truth. There is just no other possible way. You suddenly shake your head. You very well know the consequences of getting emotionally attached to patients. The number one rule you were taught in becoming a clinical psychologist and then psychiatrist is not to bring your patients' problems home with you—it will cause you your own self destruction.
You continue to sit there in thought. I know I can't keep thinking about this man, but he is truly extraordinary. There is no way this is some sort of dissociative personality disorder or schizophrenia or…
Your mind begins to wander from your psychological diagnoses of Don Juan. You close your eyes an imagine Don Juan's gentle touch running down your arm. You can almost feel the caress of his lips on your arm. His dark brown eyes gaze passionately up into your own emerald green eyes. You feel an immediate chill run up your spine at the thought.
BBBRRRIINNNNGGGG!
The fucking phone breaks your moment of inner passion with Johnny.
"Fuckin-a." You sigh as you get up and answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Señorita Angela?"
Your heart skips a beat and begins racing. You feel yourself begin to get flushed in the face at the mere sound of his voice. This is not good!
"Oh! Hi! Don Juan!" You reply as nonchalantly as possible. You begin fanning yourself with a piece of paper on your table and realize that you're breathing heavily into the phone.
"Señorita, what is troubling you? Is this an unfavorable time for me to talk with you?" He asks, his voice smooth.
"Oh, no! Not at all! I was…uh…I was just in the middle of exercising," you fib, trying to make your breathing more syncopated.
"Ah, I see. Well, alas, Señorita, I am in trouble, so I decided it would be wise to call you," he said, his voice a bit weary.
"What's wrong?" You ask, frantically trying to find a pen as you sit down on the sofa, finally slipping back into your role as psychiatrist.
"I was sleeping, and I began to have a horrific dream," he began.
You begin writing this down on the paper you had fanned yourself with.
"Uh huh…and what was in this dream that led you to feel that it was so horrific?"
"Well, it was mostly a dream about my father's death—a sort of re-enactment,"
Okay, this is good. You had talked about dreams today in his appointment. Not too much to worry about there.
"Alright, anything else?" You ask, finally, as you finish writing.
"Well, after my father was killed, I did not get to speak with you about this today, but I was eventually sent away to a palace in the far off lands of the East,"
"I see. And how was that experience?" You ask, writing down his information as quickly as you can. Once finished writing, you sit back and take a sip of your tea.
"Well, it was there that I made love to over 1,000 women," he began.
You immediately spit out all of your tea.
"You what!" You shriek, then quickly mopping up the tea with a Kleenex, regain your ease. "That must have been…quite an experience," you say finally.
"I know, it seems shocking, but it was such a privilege to give each one of those women exactly the kind of passion that every woman needs and deserves," he says, his voice smooth again.
"So you were sent over to Asia to be a gigolo for the women of this palace. Sounds like quite a good time to me," you reply, a hint of jealousy in your tone.
"Now, señorita, please do not seem upset by this. I know it may seem difficult to you in understanding, but I assure you that in the dream you were satisfied," he says finally.
"Well I better have been!" You exclaim, then finally realize what he has said. "WAIT A SEC! Your dream had me in it!"
"Indeed it did, señorita. Let me get back to the dream. Well after my father's death was re-enacted, I found myself sailing to India to the courtesan's palace. I made love to her, and I made love to a couple other women, then as I was making love to you, the ocean swelled up in the sea and overtook the palace, drowning everyone but us! I then led us to a safer shore on a far off island and then woke up,"
You are at a loss for words. Your patient had a sex dream with you in it! Speechless and searching for words, you finally squeeze out, "that's…very…interesting," trying to keep it on a professional level.
"Yes, but it was such a tragedy. All of those lives lost but ours," he says. You sense the true compassion in his voice, that he really feels horribly about this dream.
"Well, I am glad to see that your empathetic emotions are in tact!" You exclaim finally. "And as always, your sex drive is…well….active in your thoughts. I'm no Freudian psychiatrist, but give me tonight and I will try an analyze this dream for you—I'll have it ready for tomorrow."
"Thank you much, señorita. Buenas noches,"
"Good night, Don Juan," you say and finally hang up.
As you lay in bed after analyzing his dream, you become engaged in a dream of your own—that of far off lands, oceans, and passionate love.