The Timeless Library

54. The First Appointment

"This way, please."

Following the young secretary, a dispirited man made his way out of the waiting room and down the indicated hallway. The clicking sound of the woman's heels on the polished hardwood floor and the gentle patter of rain on the window were all that accompanied them as they walked together, one busy reading a clipboard and the other just busy with his own thoughts, soundlessly trailing behind.

It did not take them long to reach their destination. The man made a move to reach for the door, but the secretary quickly beat him to it before he could touch the doorknob. "Please, allow me," she said as she opened the door for him, inviting him into the room beyond.

With one final sympathetic smile, the secretary turned to leave and gently closed the door behind her, leaving the man to the Doctor's devices.

Sitting behind the office's mahogany desk was an impeccably-dressed woman, who stood in greeting and gestured to a plush couch before her. "Welcome. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink? A glass of water?"

The man averted her gaze. "No, thank you. I... don't really have the urge to eat or drink lately," he admitted as he took his seat.

"I see," she said, sitting back down in her own chair. "Let us get straight to the point, then." She turned a sand hourglass that was on her desk, and then faced him. "Tell me what brings you here today."

Considering the context of his visit, the man took the question as an invitation to speak openly. "Well... I guess I've been feeling pretty dead inside, lately."

The Doctor simply nodded, watching him inquisitively. "Can you pinpoint a moment in time when these feelings first arose?"

"Oh... yes, actually," the man answered, a bit surprised. He had half expected to receive the usual lecture on how being sad wouldn't solve anything; the Doctor's actual question was far easier to answer. "It started a couple of days ago. I woke up from a terrible nightmare, and haven't felt the same since."

"That nightmare, would you care to share it?"

"Sure, of course." Another easy question for the man to answer. As long as they steered clear from the whys and the hows, he felt at ease. "It was fine at first. I dreamt that my alarm went off, and I was getting out of bed, just the usual. But as soon as I sat up, I felt a horrible pain in my chest, like something I couldn't see was pressing into me. Then I realized I couldn't breathe. Is that normal in dreams, Doctor? Feeling unable to breathe?"

"'Normal' can be a rather relative word."

"I guess that's true." The man sighed, then continued with his story. "In any case. I didn't know what to do. I just felt so... hopeless about everything. I don't remember much else after that. I woke up, and this feeling just hasn't gone away since."

"Sounds to me like you had quite the heart attack," the Doctor remarked. "In your dream, that is. It must have been quite the shock."

"Yeah. And since then, I guess, it's like... as if I'm missing something, you know? Like a part of me is just gone. It's just... things don't feel the same anymore."

The Doctor nodded, looking completely unsurprised. Somehow, she seemed to be expecting everything he said.

Hearing no further feedback from her, the man felt the urge to continue voicing his thoughts.

"Everything is dull. I have no urge to do anything. I just lay in bed all day... Sometimes I almost think being dead wouldn't feel very different."

"I see," the Doctor remarked. "Say, have you considered..." she spoke slowly, so as to get her message through without alarming her client, "...that you might actually be dead?"

There it was: the answer to the why he had been avoiding.

Having shocked the man into silence, the Doctor chose to elaborate. "This may come as a surprise to you, but my office only accepts a certain kind of guests. The... deceased kind. I am a ghost psychologist, you see." She paused for a moment, watching him. "I specialize in helping lost souls understand their situation. I also help them prepare-at their own pace-for their eventual journey out of this world."

Several long minutes passed as the dead man processed this new information. The rain continued to fall, its gentle sound enveloping the room and soothing its two quiet occupants as they each pondered what to say next.

"Coming to terms with it is the first step," the Doctor spoke up softly after a while longer, glancing at the hourglass on her table. "Unfortunately, our time today is almost up. All I ask for now is that you give it all some thought."

The man nodded, just barely listening to her request. "Okay. Yeah... I have some thinking to do. I... is it even possible?" Looking around skeptically, he scratched his head. "Am I still in that dream, Doctor?"

Reaching into her drawer, the doctor took out a small bag containing a blank notebook, a pen, and an old-fashioned phone, and offered it to her client. "Here. These items are special: your hands won't go through them. If you can, start a journal in the notebook with whatever comes to mind. We will review it together next time." She stood up from her seat, leading him to do the same with automatic movements. "Our phone number is saved on that phone: do not hesitate to call if you feel the urge to do anything rash."

Taking the bag, the man nodded. "Thank you," he said as he extended his hand out of habit.

The doctor simply smiled reassuringly at him, hands remaining at her side. "You'll be okay. Take care, and see you next time."