therapist

MLMM Tale Weaver — Wash, Rinse, and Repeat

Fandango9 Comments

5A7BB20F-5628-48A4-BF02-319FB36FD210The question his therapist asked Avery was, “Do you have anything in your life that you consider a ritual. For example do you follow a routine each day, that is part of the way you start or end your day?”

“Well,” Avery said, “I’m not a religious man, so there are no spiritual rituals I follow. But as a retiree, every day is Saturday. And I do have certain activities that I do each day, but that would hardly classify them as rituals.”

“And what are those daily recurring activities, Avery?” the shrink asked.

“For starters,” Avery responded, “every morning when I wake up, I go to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of coffee, and sit down to read the daily newspaper — the paper edition, not the electronic version. Then I fix myself a bowl of cereal, and read whatever book I’m reading at the time until it’s time to walk my dog.”

“I see,” the therapist said. “And this is a routine you follow every day?”

“Yes it is,” Avery said. “Then I fix myself some lunch, spend some time on my computer, and then take a nap until late afternoon, when I get up and take my dog for another walk.

“By then it’s dinner time, so I’ll make myself something to eat, after which I will watch television for a few hours before I take my dog out for his final walk of the day.”

“And what happens after that last walk?”

“It’s about 10:00 by then, so I will head to bed and read some more for maybe an hour before turning out the light and going to sleep,” Avery said.

“And the next day you do the same thing?”

“Pretty much,” Avery said. “My day-to-day life is essentially wash, rinse, and repeat. Hmm. I guess maybe my days sort of are ritualistic. Rather boring rituals, but rituals nonetheless, I suppose.”

Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt.
Photo credit: RobertCheaib@Pixabay.com

Ursula’s Tell the Story Challenge

Fandango12 Comments

3c7d7d43-41eb-40c6-891b-6967924732ccUrsula, An Upturned Soul, offered the drawing above and tagged me to tell the story about it. So here goes.

“I keep having this recurring dream, Doc. I’m trying to balance between two ladders, as if I’m a clown in a circus,” Alex told his therapist. “Each rung on the ladders represents one of life’s challenges, trials, or tribulations. I’m trying to keep moving up the ladders, rung by rung, but my situation is precarious and I fall back down to the ground, at which point I get up, brush myself off, and start, once again, to climb up the from the bottom. But I never make it to the top.”

“I see,” the therapist said.

Alex gave his therapist a questioning look. “You see? That’s all you got? Three hundred bucks an hour and all you have to say is ‘I see’? I want to know what it means. What’s the significance of the two ladders? What’s at the top? Why am I struggling to climb up the rungs? Why do I keep falling? What does the dream mean, Doc?”

“How the hell would I know?” the therapist said. “It’s your dream, not mine. That will be three hundred dollars, please.”

Okay, now, according to the rules for this Tell the Story Challenge, I’m suppose to post a new picture and tag three other bloggers to tell a story about that picture.

So here’s the picture:deebcf03-af0a-4bf2-ae35-523f4bc20a85It’s from Austin Poon at Unsplash.com.

As to tagging three other bloggers, it’s not going to happen. I’ll open it up to any blogger who would like to tell his or her story about this picture.

FFfPP — The Apparition

Fandango19 Comments

img_1728“I keep seeing him,” Richard told his therapist. “I saw him this morning on the subway platform. He was staring straight at me with cold, dead eyes. He was completely expressionless.”

“Where else have you seen him?” his therapist asked.

“Everywhere. All the time. In store windows. At the park when I’m walking the dog. Standing outside of my house looking in,” Richard said.

“Is he anyone you recognize?”

“He looks vaguely familiar, like someone I should know or may have known. But I don’t know who he is,” Richard explained.

“Can you describe him for me?”

“He is about my height and weight,” Richard said. “In fact, he looks a little like me.”

“You told me you’re an only child, right?” the therapist said. “Maybe it’s an apparition.”

“You think I’m seeing ghosts?” Richard said angrily. “I’m outta here.”

Richard went to see his mother after leaving the therapist’s office. “Ma,” he said, “my therapist says I’m seeing a ghost. A ghost who looks a lot like me.”

Richard’s mother put her hand to her mouth. “Richard,” she said. “Your twin brother died at birth. It was him or you. Forgive me for never telling you. ”

(199 words)

Written for Roger Shipp’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner. Image credit: black-and-white-person-train-motion-42153 Pixel photo.