Chapter One:

Rêves

"Hello. Please come in."

I greeted her how I did every patient. However, she did not greet me back. Ours eyes did not meet once. As she passed by me in the doorway, I got a small whiff of her scent. She smelled of denim, which was peculiar but not bad. As I closed the door behind me I saw she was observing my office. She looked fascinated, almost as if she forgot I was here. I smiled softly and offered her the seat across from my own chair. We sat. I casually crossed my legs and readied my notes. I noticed she held her purse tightly on her lap, as if it were a nervous habit. I wondered if she were intimidated by me, or perhaps antisocial.

The first conversation was strictly business. She was very soft spoken and still would not look me in the eyes. I wrote this down as we went over her medical history. She explains to me everything like she had it memorized from reciting it so often before. This was not her first time apparently. She clarifies this with a list of doctors she has seen from the start. Which wasn't a large amount, she was in fact very young. I glanced at her file and see she is only twenty-three. Which was not surprising. She did, however, have an demeanor of an older woman. It was interesting how her maturity level contrasted with her age.

The session was short, she told me little but enough for me to prepare for our appointment next week. I walk her to the door with a polite smile and open it for her. For the first time I see her eyes.

"Welcome back. Please come in."

It is our next appointment. Now that we are on familiar ground, I want her to express more and tell me what kind of help she is looking for in our sessions. She is still quiet and will not fully look me in the eyes. She explains her depression and anxiety. Although, I am surprised to learn she has posttraumatic stress disorder. I write this in my notes and consider perhaps this is why she is so shy. She comes out and tells me about how she came to have this particular anxiety disorder. It is a sad but not unusual story of abuse. I thank her for sharing with me. I do know that most patients will not share such things on the first several sessions.

She tells me she is used to talking about her abuse and the like by now. I'm not surprised. She seems very distant when talking about it. Almost like she has been desensitized over the years of the therapy. We end the appointment, schedule again for the next week. I catch her eyes again before she leaves.

"Hello, Lorraine. Please come in."

I greet her with a warm smile and she returns it. Lorraine's been coming to my office for more than a month now. I've learned much about her. She has even begun to open up. She smiles and laughs, makes witty comments. I've come to enjoy our sessions together, which in the beginning were almost like pulling teeth. She was so reserved and had very little emotion. I gained her trust slowly, perhaps slower than with most of my patients. It felt good, however, to have gained genuine trust from a patient. Lorraine confides with me the skeletons within her closet. We talk more like friends than doctor and patient. It is strange, but somehow it feels natural.

I find myself expecting our sessions the more time goes on. It doesn't feel too much like work anymore, but more like play. One day Lorraine comes to our session more troubled than usual. She tells me she's been having these dreams lately. She confesses she's been having them for months now but they've gotten worse. I'm surprised when Lorraine tells me these dreams are sexual in nature. When I ask for more detail she is hesitant. I assure her she will not be judged or ridiculed. They are simply dreams.

"Sometimes they're, you know, pleasant…"

"The dreams?"

"Yeah, but most of the time they're like nightmares."

"Do you relive your abuse in these nightmares?"

"Sometimes, but not always. Sometimes, the roles are switched."

"This is common for victims of abuse. It gives them a sense of control."

"I know, but—but the things I do in my dreams…they aren't right."

Lorraine goes into some detail. I do not show my initial reaction to it, but I am intrigued. She does not come across as the sadistic type. She says in her dreams she inflicts torture that is often sexual. Specifically to men. She is embarrassed by these dreams, I can tell. Lorraine confesses that she doesn't actually like to be in control. I inquire further.

"I like things that scare me."

"What do you mean?"

"I get excited in 'scary' situations. Things that would scare any normal woman…"

"Contrary to your dreams of being in control, you long to be a victim while you're awake?"

"No…yes. I don't know."

In so many words, she explains to me she is sexually excited by dangerous situations with men. Lorraine is modest about this, however. She tells me she's never shared this with a male doctor before. I find my eyes wandering as she continues to describe her sexual frustrations. Her lack of sex. She's wearing tight dark blue jeans and a loosely fitted top that exposes part of her cleavage.

"You have never experienced 'good' sex?"

"No…"

She blushes at my question. I fidget slightly. I was unprepared for this kind of session. I've never been told fantasies and desires.

"Doctor Lecter?"

I come to. I realized I was lost in my own thoughts. She smiles uncertainly at me. I apologize before scheduling our next appointment. I show her out. She gives me a look before she leaves. It takes my breath away. As I close the door behind her, I loosen my tie. This session took a toll on me. Unfamiliar thoughts danced across my mind. I felt an ache in my loins. Her words rang in my ears.