Skipty-do-dah day

I had the dream again. A train flying along the tracks at a speed I wouldn't think any train would be capable of. I'm standing in the middle of what I think is a car but there are no seats and no people. Looking towards what I think is the back, it just goes on forever. Just an endless car with no seats and no people. Looking ahead is identical to looking backward. Nothing but the train car going on forever. The windows are no help either. Window after window on both sides, all the way to the back, and all the way to the front. But they show me nothing but a murky darkness. It doesn't help that I can't move beyond the spot I'm standing on. I can turn to look in the different directions, but I can't step up to the windows on either side, nor can I walk forward or backward to see whether there is an end in either direction. And so I stand there with lights shining on me seeing nothing and doing nothing, not knowing where I'm going, or where I have been. The dream never changes. It's always the same. And this session would be the same because the dream is the same.

I settled into a comfortable spot. I knew the drill after over thirty sessions. Why I come back is beyond me. I come to ask them why I have they dream and they have me come here so they can ask me why I have the dream. And so we do this every week. But I do it, because it's mandatory.

And here comes the therapist. A new one. I guess they are trying to find one that can help me make progress. A break through I think they call it. A new doctor means we start from scratch and I have to tell the dream all over again in complete detail and get asked a lot of questions.

"Hi, are you comfortable?" He seemed like he might be in his late forties or fifties. I've had younger ones and older ones. The age and gender don't matter to me. I just go along to get along.

"Yeah, sure. Me and this chair have a history so we're good together," I thought maybe humor would break the ice.

"Oh, I see." He chuckled and his smile seemed genuine. Who knows, maybe this will be the one to get me clearance to go home. Probably not though. I don't want to get my hopes up.

"Ok, so, let's get to it shall we? It's a skipty-do-dah day." He looked at me as if my permission was genuinely required.

"Sure, you're the boss." I laughed.

"Am I? The boss, I mean? Is that how you see me?" He looked me directly in the eye.

"You run the show right? I just show up and answer the questions." My laugh sounded nervous this time even to me.

"How do you feel about answering questions?" he asked, still looking at me directly in the eye.

I averted my gaze. "Could I have some water?"

"Absolutely. Can you tell me how you feel about answering questions?" Persistence. And dominance.

Deciding to counter, I offered, "I had the dream again."

He tilted his head forward and looked over his glasses. "How did that make you feel?"

"Is that important? My feelings about things? Because what difference does it make if I can't do anything about it? If I have no control why waste energy on feelings about it?" It irked me that I was showing annoyance so early on. I generally lasted nearly all the way through the hour before I felt taxed.

"So, you feel helpless then? Out of control? Tell me about your dream." He sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. He took a sip from his water bottle and looked at me expectantly.

"No. Not helpless. Just without purpose. I don't know where I'm going, or where I've been. I don't see anything out the windows. I can't move forward or backward or sideways. All I can do is stand in place and turn to look at the different directions." My sense of ease diminished, my knee was now bouncing.

He raised an eyebrow "Are you feeling angry?"

"No," I snapped. "More like agitated. Agitated as f---k, actually."

"What made you agitated?" He cocked his head a bit to the side.

"What the f---k do you think? You. You did." The hair on the back of my neck prickled. This session wasn't going as well as I had thought it would. It should have been routine. But something about this guy was getting to me. His crew cut hair. His blue eyes. Did I know him from somewhere? Something in the back of my mind nagged. I do know him but I don't know how or why? I start feeling hot. Perspiration beads on my lip and brow. The room fades away and I hear a shrill train whistle. And then I'm on that goddamn train. The lights are extremely bright. They are hot. I'm perspiring all over now. But I can move. I can f---king move. I take off running toward the front of the train.

"Langston? Langston, are you with me?" My consciousness jerked back to the room around me. The therapist was snapping his fingers in front of me and his blue eyes were just inches from my face.

I gripped the arms of the chair and pushed myself back away from him. "Yeah, I'm here. Can you give me some space please?"

He sat back down in his chair but on the edge of the seat. Leaning forward he asked, "Where did you go just now, Langston?"

I answered instantly, "The train. I was on the train."

He seemed excited. "How did you get there?"

"I don't know really. I was thinking and then I realized I felt hot, the room faded and I heard a shriek of a train whistle. And then I was in the train. ... What the f---k? Why was I on the train when I'm not sleeping? Why am I ever on that f---king train?" My agitation was growing.

"It's okay, Langston. Just breathe and try to calm down."

"I am breathing. And don't tell me to calm the f---k down." I jumped up. "Do you have dreams you don't understand? Trapped where you can't do anything? Can't see anything? Don't know where you're going or where you've been? It's like you don't exist. Like there is no point to existing! "But you know what? I could move this time! And I was f---king running towards the front and suddenly, there is you, right in my face." "

"Langston, I'd really like for you to sit down and relax." He had his hands out like he was trying to calm down an angry dog.

I was pacing now. My agitation was leveling up to rage. But why was I feeling so much rage?

"Can you tell me what you're feeling, Langston?"

"Rage! I'm feeling f---king RAGE!" I leaned forward with my arms behind me and growled out the word rage. I felt like I was coming unglued. Like I was a boiler getting ready to blow. What the f---k is wrong with me? How could this session be going so different than all the others? They keep telling me I'm doing great, excellent, wonderful. And I guess if feeling empty and purposeless is a good thing, then yeah, I was doing fantastic. But not today. Something about this f---king therapist has me pissed off. I'm thinking of all the ways I could hurt him. I don't understand how I even know to do some the things running through my mind.

I'm breathing hard, wondering if I should try to act on any of those thoughts. Surely they don't want me to, do they? And why does the thought of it bring me such joy?

"Langston? Langston, are you with me?" His voice sounded so far away. His face looked at me with concern.

I blurted, "Are you f---king afraid of me? Are you? Are you afraid I'm going to hurt you? I can you know. Let me tell you all the ways I could hurt you." I advanced on him and turned my chair over as I lunged for him. But he seemed to be ready for that. Before I could get further, I was grabbed from behind by two very strong orderlies. The therapist gave me a shot.

As my clarity faded in and out, I listened to him talking. He was talking about me. "It worked."

One of the orderlies responded, "That was dangerous. Do you realize what he could have... what he WOULD have done to you?"

"We had to know whether we could set a trigger to release the mind block. And now we know. The train works perfectly to shut him down. He remembers nothing from one job to the next. And he is harmless until he meets the new target he's been programmed to ... remove."

"Well, if we hadn't stepped in, he was getting ready to remove you. Isn't he going to be a threat to you from now on?"

"Only if he sees me. Which he never will again. My work is done. Time to get him reprogrammed with a phrase for his real target. He's the greatest weapon we've ever created."

My mind was getting groggy from what must have been a tranquilizer shot. Weapon? What weapon? I heard a whisper in my ear.

"Langston. You're on the train. Your destination is unknown, your past is irrelevant. There are no details for you right now. You are in a holding pattern until further orders. It's going to be a peaceful day."

"I'm on the train. It's going to be a peaceful day." I felt at peace.