“Don't look so
worried Peter.” my mother said. “I'm sure he's done this hundreds
of times before.”
“Well maybe not
hundreds....” the doctor said. “...but you've nothing to worry
about.” he assured.
'Nothing to worry
about'... that's easy for them to say. All I recall from last night's
dream was looking at myself in the mirror, clad in feminine underwear
and being told that the bra I wore was a 'special' training bra for
boys. 'Special' because it's designed in such a way that it cannot be
removed by the wearer. It's not the sort of dream that I want to
recall, either consciously or subconsciously. I seldom seem to have
'normal' dreams, just weird ones where I'm somehow forced or
encouraged to wear girl's clothes and more often than not, I wake in
a cold sweat and struggle to get back to sleep.
“Pay attention
Peter... the doctor's speaking to you.” my mother said as my mind
visibly wondered.
“Sorry.” I gulped.
“You were saying?”
“I was saying that
after a little dream analysis... we'll hopefully get to the bottom of
why you're not sleeping too well.” the doctor reiterated.
“Hopefully.” I
gulped.
“Now, if you'll just
concentrate on the watch, and try to clear your mind of all other
thoughts....”
The watch swung like a
pendulum. I followed it as best I could and tried to clear my mind
whilst the doctor calmly recited a repetitive string of
hypno-clichés; relax, clear your mind, concentrate on the watch,
your eyelids are heavy, you're feeling drowsy, empty your mind,
follow the watch, blah blah, blah.
“Right well thank
you... we won't keep you any longer Doctor.” my mother said. “Come
on Peter... let's get you home.”
