Sitting in an old styled Victorian waiting room with 2 story tall Gothic-styled arch-topped windows.

January 15th, 2014, 5pm

It was -11.7°C with broken clouds. The breeze was gentle.

The walls are dark charcoal grey and the floors are black, wooden and wore. Even though the room gives off a very old feel, the waiting room to the psychologist is brightly lit. The light pouring into the room is unnaturally white, with a bluish tinge.

I’m unable to make out any landmarks, vegetation, or buildings from the windows, just white light that seemed to bleed away the separation panes of the glass itself.

There’s roughly 8 people in this room, I’m sitting on the right side of the room as 6 people are sitting perpendicular to the entrance to the office. I notice a person from the corner of my vision, it’s oddly reminiscent of you, just older and unkempt wearing all black, with a black feather boa around your neck and an awkwardly worn “Cat-in-a-hat-styled” black hat, crinkled drastically to one side.

I try not to peer directly towards your vicinity and utilize my peripheral to take visual notes and assess how I knew this person that looks so familiar and I’m unable to draw my attention anywhere else, that is until the nurse shows up.

The office door opens and a nurse in grey classic WW2 garb appears, calls a new patient and they walk through the office and the door closes behind them silently. So silently that the internal mechanisms of the door knob, handle, and catches make no noise at all. This alerts my attention, I slowly realize what’s happening.

I’m not truly here, I’m dreaming, this has become a dream.

As I turned my head away from the door to look over the rest of the people, they all vanished but you.

You were making your way to a door around the wall, heading downstairs to some unseen floor.

I begin to follow you, I finally speak up to grab your attention.

“Hey.” I say with enough gumption to have deep base.

You turn around and ask “What do you want?”

“How long has it been? I haven’t seen or talked to you in so long. How long has it been?”

You reply dryly “It’s been almost 30 years since I heard your voice or laid my eyes upon you.”

“Can I talk and accompany you for a while?” I ask inquisitively.

“And why the fuck would you want to do that? You didn’t care about doing that 30 years ago, why would it change now?” you belted out in a fussy old manner.

“That’s because I’m dreaming right now and you’re in this dream.” I remarked with a smile.

“If that’s the case, why would this conversation even matter? Why would whatever I say even count or remotely count as an actual conversation?”

“I have no idea but you stating it’s been 30 years since I’ve talked to you, nearly feels like the entire duration has happened before. I must look old as shit. I wonder if there’s a mirror around.” I inquired.

“If this is your dream, that explains why there’s no mirrors, it’s because you willed this place to have none.” You explained.

I then woke up to the sound of my alarm.
7 am to get my eldest son, Nathan, prepared for school.

Chris, Adrian and Anne Marie said thanks.

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Jeffrey LaCount

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