different.”
Dr. Richards wrote a bit more on his pad, and Dylan again gave into the urge to try to take a peek, only to have Dr. Richards tilt the pad upright, out of his view. “None of which changes the fact that I still can’t stop thinking about the dream girl, which is what I’m here for. Doesn’t change that I want her out of my brain, now. Will the meds do that?” “Psychiatry isn’t a magic pill, whatever you might see in the movies,” the doctor said. “Medication can help, but it doesn’t fix the root problem. It’s obvious that you have a great deal of unresolved anger towards your mother–”
“No, I don’t!”
The doctor’s only response was a level stare.
“I’m just upset for Dad’s sake. I realized a long time ago that since I never knew her, I didn’t really lose anything.” “Our job is to get to what’s at the bottom of these dreams and work on resolving it. We can only do that if you’re honest with me, Dylan. More importantly, with yourself. Then, hopefully, the dreams and obsession will fade away on their own. And that takes work and time.” “I don’t have a lot of time, doc. I leave for grad school in just a couple of months.”
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