“Just lie back on the couch sir and let your mind drift.” The good doctor always liked to start his sessions with relaxation.
“Cast your mind back and try to remember the first time you encountered the focus of your obsession.” He slipped his Mont Blac from his pocket; writing, Patient 4569: Prelim Diagnosis of OCD and Kleptomania. He drew a firm line beneath the words and then pen hovering over the paper, waited.
“I was young, very young doc. I remember we were out in the park. It was the first day of spring and I could feel the sun warming the earth beneath my feet. As we walked through the flowers and trees, a small yellow butterfly flitted past my nose. I couldn’t help it, I wandered from my mama’s side and followed the butterfly. It made me so happy the way it floated in the air. So soft and delicate. It was how I felt inside. Young and happy and warm. The winter had been long and cold. Mama wouldn’t let us out of her sight and we had to stay inside. A young-en gets tired of being holed up all winter.”
“Good, good. What happened next.” The doctor admired the smooth flow of ink onto paper. He loved the way the pen captured his patients words. It seemed to lend class to almost any statement.
“I….I. I dont remember much except…. I couldn’t find my mama again. There were so many people in the park and I got scared, so I hid. That night was the coldness night of my life. I hid in the bushes and cried for my mama, but she never came. I was so alone, so tired and so very hungry.” The patient began to shift on the couch.
“I know this is difficult. You are generally very happy. Your personality is one of upbeat and positive ideas. You are the eternal optimist. But I think that perhaps you avoid life’s unpleasantness with this outlook. You need to address them and let go. This obsession of yours and the stealing, I think, has roots here. Please continue.”
“The next morning I awoke. There was a family just on the other side of the bushes. They had spread a bright red and white blanket out on the ground and were throwing a ball a few feet away. There was this rectangular basket that had food in it, I could smell it. It smelled so wonderful. I crept from the bushes and looked into the basket. Inside was a chicken and jello and cookies, it was so wonderful. I grabbed the basked and ran back into the trees. I felt full and happy. Just then the little butterfly landed on my noise. It was okay again.”
“I see Mr. Yogi. Thank you for sharing this. Next week we will deal with your discovery of your mother as the dancing bear in the traveling circus. I want you to think about how the picnic baskets make you feel and realize you are replacing your need for your mother with the need for food. I think we are making great progress. Ranger Smith will be so pleased.”
— — — — — — — —
ThinkingTen Writiers Prompt – Member’s Pick, Friday:
A picnic basket
The only rule: write whatever comes to mind; improvise!
— — — — — — — –