Chapter 4: If it's healing you need...

When I awoke the next morning I pulled my twisted and tortured body out of the futon, I had passed out on that very uncomfortable sofa want-a-be the night before. Making my way groggily to the kitchen I looked back at the futon thing wondering if such a meager, unpleasant, slouchy spread had ever, in the history of sex, inspired a woman to say, "Take me on your futon." With that thought I started rooting around in the refrigerator looking for something to eat.

As I rooted, thus far finding nothing to my liking, for some inexplicable reason the lyrics to a song I heard a few times popped into my head; "she takes you in with your crying eyes, then all at once you have to say goodbye wondering could you stay my love?" I could only guess that I'd thought of those particular lyrics because they reflected how I felt inside. I sighed.

The phone started ringing.

I hurried over to the phone and picked it up catching it this time, "Yes," I said into the mouthpiece.

"Oh thank goodness! Sam!" A female voice, "I've been trying to reach you for two days now. Why didn't you answer your phone? After you missed your appointment and then didn't answer I thought you might have ... well, let's just say you had me very concerned Sam. But, you're all right now aren't you Sam. Sam, you are all right, right?"

"Who is this?" I asked.

The female voice took on a much calmer, softer, more reassuring tone of voice when she said, "Sam, what's wrong? Do you feel as though you've digressed? We were making such good progress. We'd come so far. Have you been taking you medication regularly? You know how important taking your medication is."

"Who is this?" I repeated.

"Sam, you're starting to get me worried again. You know very well this is Katherine Lozier, your doctor. Now tell me what's going on with you Sam."

I suspected right away when she had used the phase, "We'd come so far", and then mentioned being a doctor that Dr. Katherine Lozier was most likely a psychiatrist. My many years sitting in front of the television had taught me only psychiatrist used terms like that.

"Oh my head shrink," I said attempting to confirm my suspicion.

"Now Sam, you know I don't like that term. Now what's going on with you? I'm concerned." She said

So, Sam Eldon was under the care of a psychiatrist. I didn't know if my knowing what Doctor Lozier was treating the new Sam Eldon for would be useful or not but getting the information was free so I figured I'd go along for a while.

"I'm not sure doctor. Why don't you tell me what's going on with me?" I answered her question with a question.

"Now you really do have me concerned Sam," and her voice did sound concerned. "Sam, can you come down to my office right away and make up the session you missed? I'll have Cora reschedule my next two appointments so I can fit you in. I really do think it important that we talk right away. This morning."

I hesitated in giving her my answer trying to decide if taking the time to deceive this Ph.D. would be worth the effort for what I might get out of it.

I guess that hesitation must have held some significant meaning to Dr. Katherine Lozier because suddenly she said, "Sam, are starting to feel insecure again. You haven't felt that way in years. All right Sam. I'll come to you. You know, just like we used to do. I'm coming over there Sam. Now don't you leave okay? You stay right where you are. Do you hear me?"

Whoa! I hadn't ever heard of a psychiatrist making house calls, yet not only was that what Dr. Katherine Lozier was suggesting but apparently it was something she had done in the past for this new Sam Eldon. Now I knew the new Sam Eldon had money. He must be paying Katherine Lozier a fortune.

"I won't leave Doctor Lozier. I'll be right here waiting. When do you think you can get here?"

"In about an hour. Now, you wait there. Don't you go anywhere. I won't be that long."

Man she certainly seemed troubled that her patient would bail on her. I wondered if the new Sam Eldon had done that very thing in the past.

"Okay. Yes, I'll wait. I will." I made those words sound like what I thought someone that was paranoid would sound like.

"Sam? Sam ... no, just wait there, I'll be right over." She said and then she hung up. I guess my paranoid thing had worked.

I vaguely remembered seeing one or two prescription bottles inside the hall bathroom medicine cabinet during my drunken scavenger hunt, so I headed in there to have a closer look. It turned out there were three prescription bottles not two. All three were issued to the patent Samuel Eldon and prescribe by Katherine N. Lozier Ph.D., M.D.

Bringing the prescription bottles with me I returned to the living room and turned on the computer. After it booted itself to life, and having determined that it was connected to the internet I googled all three prescriptions and discovered that two of them were very powerful antidepressants and the third a strong sleeping pill. Just by the prescriptions alone it seemed to me that this new Sam Eldon was one screwed up fellow.

I took a shower, shaved, and then dressed in tan slacks, a collared, dark blue, pull-over shirt, with an emblem of an alligator above the left breast, white socks and a pair of Reeboks.

I had just finished combing back my hair and brushing my teeth when the doorbell rang. I went to the door and pulled it open. I hadn't even thought about what Dr. Katherine N. Lozier might look like but she certainly wasn't what I would have imagined had I thought about it. She wasn't the female version of Sigmund Freud, with gray hair tied in a bun, and large black rimmed, thick lens glasses. As a matter of fact, she was very attractive. Light complexion, big, dark eyes, shoulder length auburn hair, and full painted lips that matched the red color of her blouse, earrings, and two inch heels.

She might have been in her mid-forties. More likely she was in her early fifties, with a fit body that made her look even younger. She was well-preserved and trying hard to stay that way, and from my view-point she was doing a damn fine job of it.

She was dressed in a brown, woven fabric, skirt business suit, with white dotted pinstripes. The skirt was knee length, and both the jacket, and the bright red silk blouse underneath looked to have been impeccably hand tailored in order to accommodate her extra large breasts. The attire allowed her to look feminine and sexy, yet offered little doubt that she still meant business. I was impressed.

Her 'in person' voice sounded about ten years older than she looked, "I'm pleased to see you waited for me Sam. May I come in?"

"Of course, please do," I said extending my arm in invitation. "Have a seat on the futon torture rack."

She walked in and I closed the door.

Wisely, she pulled out the chair on wheels and sat down on it instead. Then looking around she said, "I'm a little disappointed Sam. We talked about you buying some new furniture and decorating a little to help make this place a bit more cheerful. You haven't done anything we talked about. Is it the insecurity coming back?"

"I don't know." I said attempting to find a comfortable position on the stupid bed-in-a-box thing but finally gave it up as a lost cause and just let it jab me in the back.

She withdrew a small black notepad and pen from her coat pocket as she said, "Sam, we've been having these sessions for nearly ten years now and we've come so far, and now this ... well, I'm a little concerned," then pushing her expensive pen to paper, "Please tell me what you're thinking right now?"

"I'm thinking I'd like to know what makes you think we've come so far." I answered.

"Well, for one thing you must remember how frequently you used to talk about how maybe you wouldn't be here tomorrow. You haven't done that in quite some time. And other than today you haven't felt insecure in a very long time. Don't you consider that as our having come far?" When she finished her sentence she did something to her notepad and when she was done doing whatever it was that she was doing to it a fresh sheet of paper appeared and the tip of her expensive pen was in a holding pattern just above the paper.

"I'm not completely satisfied with your expressed examples to draw my own definitive conclusion that we indeed have come a long way doctor." I answered.

She looked up from the paper and her expression reflected concern when she said, "Sam, you are always very articulate but rarely do you talk about your feelings so easily. That concerns me. You are feeling insecure again aren't you? I can see it. Would you like to suckle on my breast like you used to do?"

Now that shocked me. Had she really offered her breast to me to suckle on? No couldn't be, I must have been mistaken.

"Excuse me?" I said, but the shocked expression on my face must have still been plastered there because she said, "What's wrong Sam? It's been a while but we've had primal therapy sessions in the past."

"Primal therapy sessions?" I questioned.

"Yes, primal therapy." She answered matter of factually. "I've already explained this form of therapy to you a number of times in the past. I don't understand your confusion Sam."

"If you wouldn't mind doctor, please explain primal therapy to me one more time. Just so I know I have it right. Please." I asked with a pleading look on my face.

She took a deep breath of resignation and then said, "Very well. Primal therapy is one of the most powerful tools in psychotherapy, and utilizes physical touch as its primary tool. The reason for this is that touch, can bypass the most complicated third-line defenses and take us directly into second or even first-line, very early, memories. This is because the part of the brain that registers physical touch is much more primitive than the part of the brain that registers emotion, second-line pain, or rational thought, third-line pain. As you know I'm a very staunch believer in primal therapy, and I know when used correctly it can break through even the most difficult barriers the human mind can construct. Suckling a woman's breast is one of the very first things engrained into our memories and even later in life suckling can have a tremendously positive effect on insecure individuals by helping that individual learn how to feel secure once again. All right?"

"Yes, thank you doctor. Now I remember." I said.

"Good. And try to remember how much this has helped you in the past Sam." She said getting up and removing her jacket and then folding it neatly before carefully laying it on the desk. She tugged her blouse free of the waistband of her skirt and started undoing the buttons from the bottom up, gazing into space as if she were recalling a distant memory.

With a shrug, she slid the blouse off, pulling at the left sleeve, which stuck to her wrist with static, then lowered her head and stretched her arms behind her back like wings to unclasp her bra, raising one shoulder and then the other as she slipped off the thin straps. Her breasts were large and heavy, capped by large, dark, upturned nipples.

I sat stunned just looking at her standing in front of me dressed in her skirt and nothing else on top, then suddenly I felt that same on again off again magic tingle at the base of my neck that I'd felt back in 1979. How could that be? I was in 2006 in an old mans body, and yet I felt it, a strong attraction for this woman standing bare breasted in front of me. This attraction wasn't as strong as the love I felt for the women in my family or Clarity, but I felt it none the less. I wondered how this could be happening in 2006. I'd certainly never felt that magic in 2006 before. Then a singular thought filled my mind and gave me hope; if I was still somehow connected to 1980 could I use this feeling, or could I interpret it to mean, that there was a way for me to travel back to 1980 and all I had to do was find that way? That thought made me feel a lot better about my situation.