Cynthia wasn't looking forward to her therapy session. Dr. Hansen or Johnny as he preferred his patients call him, was her therapist. He always greeted her with a hello and a hug. Johnny wore faded blue jeans, dark glasses, and a plain button up. For a Doctor, he didn't have expensive taste. Cynthia was looking forward to seeing Johnny but was not looking forward to her session.
She had just come from piano practice. It was only her fourth session, but she was picking it up quickly. Hobbies helped her keep her mind occupied. As if it had any free time, it would run rampant in the streets. Cynthia tried everything she could, meditation didn't work, exercise only burnt her out more, and her friends didn't understand.
Cynthia was early, and she hated downtime. The waiting room provided almost no distractions for her. Even the decor provided more of an entertainment than Dr. Hansen's secretary. She was on her phone, as usual, she could text at 150 words per minute. I always wondered how she let Johnny know I was here. She never broke her gaze from her phone, and it seemed like she was working on the next best seller. It never failed, when Johnny greeted me, he apologized, and stated, "June let me know you were here." How did June do it, Cynthia thought.
Eventually, Cynthia's imagination would knock on the front door. It would beat at the door until the frame broke off. Once the door was down, there was nothing left to stop it. No last defense, no final stand, just Cynthia, alone and exhausted. Only when her fingers were busy, and she is creating a swarm of sound, did she feel free.
Dr. Hansen explained that this 'state' was her meditation. Cynthia didn't quite understand at first. "What do you mean, my meditation?" She asked. Dr. Hansen removed his glasses and met her gaze. He used this tactic to grab the attention of whomever he was speaking. Dr. Hansen was born blind; there was no freak accident, he has never seen the world the same way a human being with working eyes has.
"Your meditation." He stated. Was this a test? Cynthia didn't understand, she struggled for an answer but couldn't find one. Johnny had left her with more questions than answers during their last session. Music could be her meditation. "It's the piano. It brings me joy." She stated. Did she mean it? Looking back at it, Cynthia felt that her answer was incorrect.
Cynthia sat patiently in the Doctor's waiting room. There was only one object that stood out to her, the clock. Time moved slower and slower as if it would stop seconds before her appointment time. She never paid attention to the tank full of colorful fish in the corner. The stack of antique books in the corner had never caught her eye. Nothing existed but June and time.
Dr. Hansen's door opened, and Cynthia felt relieved. "So sorry, June told me you've been waiting. I was finishing up a call, shall we Cynthia?" Johnny motioned for Cynthia to walk into his office. His office wasn't typical. It reminded Cynthia of an Inventors room. The windows were glass, but from the third floor, you could see out into the forest. There were Rubix cubes hidden like an Easter egg hunt. Cynthia had no clue how many were really in the place but had found five different ones total.
Johnny had a pinball machine labeled Alien vs. Predator, an arcade game called Time Crisis 2, and another called Street Fighter. He had appointments regularly, so Johnny found it was best to keep some stimulation at the office. Some thought it was an interesting choice for a blind man. The floor had pads for meditation and massage chairs. If you'd seen it, you would wonder why all psychologists don't have an office like his.
Cynthia sat down one of Johnny's oval chairs. There was three total, all of which were giant eggs. You could completely sink in, and not worry about a thing. They were very comfortable. "I think I know what my meditation is," Cynthia said as she removed her shoes. Johnny raised an eyebrow and took a seat in a corresponding chair. "Continue," he said. Johnny never diagnosed his patients, and he helped them figure out what was happening on their own.
YOU ARE READING
Artificial ImaginationScience Fiction
Cynthia was no one special, but she had an overactive imagination. Johnny Hansen is a professional psychologist, and there's no challenge he can't tackle. One day her imagination uncovers a truth that Johnny would rather stay buried. Johnny is from...