I glance over at Matty, who’s laughing it up with Brody and the Tonys. Sure, he’s fun, but maybe he’s not the best influence on me. And I can’t just keep going with the flow.
For so long, we’ve complained about Taylor, vilified her even. But maybe the real villain here is… me?
???
All morning, we’re immersed in the grand scheme to magically make every Quinn & Wolfe casino game and amenity cashless. This alpine retreat of a hackathonis proving to be quite the productivity booster. Even Matty has declared it decidedly less wild than the standard Vegas hackathons, with a hint of disappointment, I might add.
However, my mind is a hot mess, simmering with post-coital angst after last night. I can’t stop replaying all my dirty moments in my mind, but now, as typical, paranoia has set in.
All morning my emotions have been spinning like they’re stuck in a high-speed blender because of the stupid unsettling dog dream and last night’s X-rated encounter with JP. My reaction feels too intense for someone who isn’t my boyfriend.
JP didn’t promise me anything. Just because a man says he wants you doesn’t mean he wants to be exclusive. Guys can say the most spectacular things to get you into bed.
I had this issue with a guy I called Bumble Brad. After five dates I assumed exclusivity. He showered me with compliments, calling me an “amazing human being.”
Meanwhile, he had a whole lineup of other “amazing” human beings for each night of the week. I was just Wednesday. I promptly resigned from the Miss Wednesday position.
But who was in the wrong there, him or me? He never said we were exclusive. I never asked if he was seeing other people.
Still, I didn’t use protection with JP. What the hell was I thinking? The truth is, in the moment it just felt so intimate. So natural. I got caught up in how he made me feel.
“Get it together, you floozy,” I mutter, dropping into my chair and adjusting the angle of my laptop screen. I massage my temples and take a deep breath to regain my sanity before hitting the call button.
The smiling digital face of Dr. Ramirez pops up on my screen. “Lucy, how are you doing today?”
“Honestly? I’m a bit of a mess,” I admit, surrendering to a weary sigh. I slump back in my chair, fingers weaving through my hair. “Just another day in the life, I guess.”
“Healing isn’t a linear process. Don’t be too harsh on yourself if progress seems slower than you’d like,” she advises, her gaze carefully scrutinizing me. “What’s troubling you today?”
I dive right in, gushing about my insane dream about the Jekyll and Hyde dog.
She takes a moment to chew on my dream saga. “Well, dreams can be quite mysterious,” she muses, smiling at me. “Like an unsolved Rubik’s Cube.”
I squint back at her through the screen. A Rubik’s Cube? Could she conjure up something a bit less metaphorical and a bit more helpful?
“Dreams,” she continues, “often offer a glimpse into our subconscious, shedding light on worries or fears that we might not realize we’re carrying.”
“But what could the dog possibly signify?” I ask, frustration coloring my voice. “And more importantly, what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Perhaps the aggressive behavior of Buddy signifies a fear or anxiety you’re currently wrestling with. It could represent an impending threat or stressor in your life against which you feel powerless.”
“Could be anything then.” I sigh, sinking further into my chair. “My apartment not selling for one.”
“Let’s simplify this,” she says with an encouraging smile. “Tell me about the dream again, but explain it like you’re talking to a nine-year-old kid.”
“Buddy was a good dog one minute, a terrifying beast the next. And I didn’t see it coming.”
She nods. “This could be your mind’s way of preparing you for something difficult you’ve been avoiding.”
I bite my lip. “That’s a bit unsettling, doc.”
“Sometimes we have to confront the possibility of pain or stress that we’ve been avoiding. Our discussions, the strategies we are working on, are all aimed at making you stronger, more resilient. And they’re preparing you to confront any distressing or traumatic experiences that may surface.”
I shrug, feeling overwhelmed. “That’s all well and good, doc, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that knowledge.”
“I believe that once we initiate your hypnotherapy sessions, things will start to get clearer.”
I release a long, heavy sigh.
