I have a problem that I'm not sure how to explain. It's about therapy. Something is up and I don't know what it is. Not only do I not know what it is, I don't know how to even try to find out what it is. It started with the absence of email. I, the email pest, suddenly stopped emailing the therapist two weeks ago. I haven't sent a single email since. Not one. He's not away or anything. I could email him half to death if I wanted. At first I thought it was a good thing that I stopped emailing and I mentioned it to him, too. I thought it was progress. In a way it is because I don't need him in the same desperate way as I have before. And also (and this is probably the big piece) because I don't fear abandonment by him anymore because I don't think he will ditch me. I think there is something else here, too. My first clue was when I mentioned this little phenomenon in the last appointment. He asked me what I thought had changed and I told him. What I said is definitely true, but I could feel the presence of something else, too. The inner chatter started, but I squashed it. Then I had a dream that implied to me that I am hiding from him because I dread being 'sick'. I dreamed that I didn't feel well. I had a flu or something, so I went to bed. Strangely (or not) my bed was on the ledge of an uppermost floor in a high rise apartment building. It sloped a bit toward the street below and it was very narrow. I was holding onto a small post that was affixed to the building and I could not fall asleep because I was afraid I would let go and fall to my death if I did. Then I got up and went to a doctor because the illness was bothering my stomach. I did not want to go, but I was afraid not to. The doctor said the trouble was really coming from my mind, but I needed to stay in the hospital for a while anyway. I was relieved that I was basically okay, but I wanted to get the hell out of there in the worst way. I ended up in a shopping mall where I had an appointment to get my hair done. There was another woman waiting there, too. She had a little kid with her and she started talking to me about the woman who was supposed to do my hair. She called her Mrs. So-And-So (same last name as my therapist). She was going on and on about what a nice lady she is and then she started talking about the hairdresser's husband and what a great therapist he is for children and how nice he was to her own kid who just happened to be his client. It was my therapist she was talking about. She called him by first and last name. I hate sleeping. It's too confusing. More beer, please.

Hey, Dream Pestilence! I heard you, now fer chrissakes shut up! Just please SHUT UP and leave me alone before you drive me to do something insane like threaten you with a razor blade or a lighter. I could keep one of them under my pillow and get revenge when you wake me up, you know. Don't push me that far. Ya wanna drive me crazy? I'll show ya crazy. Don't. Push. I fucking heard you and I'll tell the therapist, but you need to back the fuck off now before I lose it on you.