Across Frozen Seas by John Wilson

Author:John Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV016170
Publisher: Dundurn Press Limited
Published: 2006-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

For all my fascination with the dreams, they scared me. Not just because the tension was beginning to mount, but because I had never heard of anyone else having a series of dreams as consistent, and persistent, as mine. Was this how madness began? Was my unconscious mind trying to tell me something by dredging up some long forgotten memory? Or was it just an insane fantasy put together, as Jim had suggested, from pieces of stories I had heard years before? I began to wish I could tell someone about all this; someone who would understand my dreams, be able to explain them, and reassure me that I wasn’t going mad. I craved the dreams but, the longer they lasted, the more I worried about what they could mean. I was becoming lonelier all the time, cutting myself off from friends at school and growing more distant from my parents. The loneliness was beginning to frighten me. I had to talk to someone, but who?

I chose Mom for a number of reasons. No one at school would understand, my Dad was too preoccupied with his business to give me any time, and I had already tried talking to Jim. Mom had always had an interest in dreams. Dream therapy was one of the many things, along with pottery and Thai cooking, that she had taken classes in. I think she took courses to get away when things with Dad got too intense.

“Its not natural,” she said when I told her how vivid and frequent my dreams were and how they seemed to be telling some kind of story. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.”

This wasn’t very comforting, but Mom did have one idea—she suggested I see her therapist in Saskatoon. He was her response to the latest crisis with Dad.

“Chris might really be able to help,” she said. “He is very sensitive to all kinds of issues.”

At first I was reluctant to go, but Mom said that Chris was up on the latest theories about dreams and could help me understand what was going on. Anyway, it was worth a try and I was glad for a chance to get out of Humboldt.

The therapist’s office was on the second floor of a low building downtown. It had a small reception area with a single secretary and one door with the words, “Chris Penner, Family Therapist” on it. I don’t know what I expected to find behind that door, perhaps a leather couch, certificates on the wall. There were a few certificates, but no couch, just a couple of comfortable-looking chairs. One complete wall was a window that looked out over the town and made the room bright and cheerful. There was also a desk in front of the window with a bookcase on one side. In the back corner there were a couple of large cushions and a box of children’s toys and picture books.

Chris ushered us in, sat down and chatted for a while about nothing in particular.

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