CHAPTER THREE: Dr. Simms

November 12th, 2013

“Are you depressed?”

Fred glanced up from the patterns on Dr. Simms’ oriental rug. “I’m sorry?”

She gave him a comforting smile. “Are you depressed?”

He scoffed. “Uh… n—no. I mean, I don’t think I am. Do you… do I seem depressed to you?”

“No, but I found your email telling. From the things you said and the emotions you expressed, it seems a fair question.”

“Well..." Fred thought about the email he had written. Did he say too much? Could a person say too much? "How does this work?”

Dr. Simms raised her eyebrows at the question. “Therapy?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, since it’s your first visit, we’ll address what led you to schedule an appointment,” Dr. Simms said. She spoke with a gentleness that, although somewhat pandering, put Fred at ease. “Therapy works how you wish it to work, it’s organic. You come in and you say whatever’s on your mind. Sometimes I’ll ask questions and sometimes I’ll just listen. Sometimes the most powerful sessions happen when a patient has no agenda at all. The most important thing is there’s complete doctor-patient confidentiality, so don’t be afraid to speak your mind.” 

Although Fred himself struggled to understand women, he had always been more conversational with them, which was why he had searched for a female therapist. Fred was cognizant, and somewhat ashamed, that lust had decided for him; Dr. Lisa Simms had the most attractive photo in the online therapy directory, and so he clicked on her first.

With her perfect posture and her prim manner, Dr. Simms was an elegant beauty. There was a slight edge to her wardrobe that made him pain with longing. Her clothes were conservative, yet sharp and revealing. With her perfume, her shoulder-length brown hair, her red lipstick, and the focused gaze of her blue eyes, Dr. Simms had enchanted Fred the moment he walked into her office.

“So I can say anything at all?” Fred asked.

“Nothing you say will leave this room,” Dr. Simms replied. “What do you think of that?”

Fred nodded. “Therapy sounds nice.”

“It is!” Dr. Simms said. She sat up and rubbed her palms together. “So, getting back… and I know it’s a funny question, but… Are you depressed?”

“Hmm.” Fred tapped his lips. “You know, I remember I read something a while back about depression.” He held out a hand towards Dr. Simms in a gesture of respect. “Obviously, you know better than me. But I read it’s like you’re so upset that you stop eating, you stop sleeping — or you eat and sleep too much. You do it to cope, I guess, but… for me? I’m not doing anything like that.”

“Has your behavior changed in any other ways?”

Fred scratched his head. What was his life before that night? Beth would say that he was sleeping too much and Fred could admit he was lazy with finding gigs and hustling (so much so that the word “hustling” annoyed him — like, okay pal, relax!). And sure, he was also eating too much before too. None of that behavior, as bad as it was, had changed, however.

The notable difference was not in his behavior, it was the dark energy around him. There was a weight, a black cloud that crept along with him throughout each day and then attacked him at night. That’s why he was here.

“I’m having these like… strange episodes… like dreams. When I wake up, I feel like shit. One morning I woke up in my living room, then another time I was in my bathtub. Sometimes there’re cuts on my legs, my feet, my knuckles. It makes no sense.”

He looked up at Dr. Simms, who was stoic in her attention.

“So,” he said. “I figured I was doing a little sleep walking around my apartment, bumping into walls and things, but… then one night — Halloween night, actually — I went to bed early and, like two hours later, I awoke in the middle of the street, blocks from my house, wearing nothing but boxers. Crazy, right?”

“That’s frightening, I can only imagine,” Dr. Simms said.

“Thank God no cops saw me, but I think I scared a few kids,” Fred said.

Dr. Simms leaned forward, her eyes squinted and her lips pursed. “Has this happened to you before?”

“No, not at all. It’s like I was sleep… running? Have you ever heard of that? Sleep-running?”

She peered at the large bookshelf behind her computer desk and seemed to search her memory for a reference on sleep-running to pull for Fred. “I’ve never heard of sleep-running, but it sounds like night terrors to me. Sometimes a person’s having such traumatic dreams that instead of reacting in the dream, they react with a physical urge in-person while still asleep. Perhaps that’s what you’re going through?”

“Well, as much as I enjoy getting exercise while I’m unconscious, it’s damn scary,” Fred said with a giggle. He had been looking forward to using that line for days.

Dr. Simms scribbled something in her notebook, put down her pen and looked up at him. “It’s serious, Fred. I’m glad you came to me.” 

Fred felt awkward that she wouldn’t laugh at his jokey little lines. Perhaps it was serious. In his mind, he had only referred to them as those “funny episodes”, but night terrors? Night terrors sounded much more serious.

Dr. Simms closed her notebook and put her hands in her lap. “We’ll get into the dreams, but first… in your letter you said this all started about three weeks ago? What could have triggered this?”

“Well…” Fred said, embarrassed. Dr. Simms offered a nod of encouragement. “Okay, well, I don’t know, maybe I’m a bit love sick or something?”

Dr. Simms nodded. “I see.”

“Yeah… it was a Tuesday night and when I got home from the gym, my cell phone was missing…”