Psycho-Babble Psychology | about psychological treatments | Framed
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Posted by Shortelise on August 8, 2005, at 16:21:12

I am in my therapist's outer office, his office door is open, there are several clocks there (none in reality) that all say different times. By some I am late, by others, early. My watch says I am on time, but I don't trust it.
I wait, not knowing if I am early and should wait, or late and should let him know I'm there, then am inside - don't know how. The two clocks there are also showing different times, all within 20 minutes of each other, all of these clocks.
We talk and talk - about what I don't know but it's very intense, very important and deep for me. Then he walks to his desk, gets a camera, one like my husband's Roleiflex (sp?), sits back in his chair and takes a photo of me, as I protest. I tell him I feel so ugly that to have a photograph of me there in his office, showing how fat and ugly I am, showing how unattractive I am there, showing WHAT I THINK HE SEES (!!)would be dreadful for me. I try to wrestle the camera from his hands, and manage to open the back and expose the film to the light. He is angry that I have ruined the other photos on the roll.

End of dream. Woke up with a cold and sore throat. Ugh.





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