Chapter 4

“Is there anything that you would like to talk about?” asked the doctor.

“Do you want to hear about the high school football player who publicly humiliated me when I told him I had a crush on him?” Alice said, a little defensively.

“Not if you don’t feel like talking about it. Men are beasts anyway. Maybe you have a more interesting topic in mind.”

Alice glanced again at the doctor. Dr. Prober would have asked her how she felt about that, and that would have been her invitation to throw a pity party. The party would end with another one of his standard lectures on taking responsibility for one’s own happiness. Go and sin no more. Alice was temporarily at a loss for words.

“I had a dream last night,” she said at last. “Excellent!” said Dr. Deluse. “I find dreams endlessly fascinating. Tell me about it.”

Alice related her dream.

“Dreams are the mind’s way of sorting things out,” Dr. Deluse explained. “The subconscious keeps on working all the time. Sometimes it offers us solutions to problems through dreams or confronts us with the fears we deny while awake. The false reality of dreams brings us symbols, forgotten memories, even premonitions. Our dreams tell us who we are.”

“So what does my dream tell you?” asked Alice.

Dr. Deluse pondered this, tapping a pencil against her teeth. “I think that you are lonely. You want more excitement and romance in your life. You want to be beautiful and desired.”

Alice sniffed. “Who doesn’t want all of those things?”

Dr Deluse laughed, displaying strong, sharp teeth.

“You’re right, of course, but most people find at least some of the things they seek. I think that you feel ugly and unloved.”

“Let’s be real,” said Alice bitterly. “I am ugly.”

“Not really. Stand up straight and smile. Do something with that hair,” she laughed to soften the edge of her criticism. “Maybe you don’t have the figure of a runway model, but you would be surprised at how many people find a woman attractive when she has a little meat on her bones.”

Like Dr. Prober, she was laying the blame on Alice, yet somehow, the advice seemed more helpful coming from her. She made Alice feel almost optimistic.

“What else does my dream tell you?” she asked.

“It shows me that you have an active and vivid imagination. Do you dream in color?”

“Of course, doesn’t everyone?”

The doctor shook her head. “No, it’s rather uncommon. Do you ever have lucid dreams? What I mean is, are you aware that you are dreaming during your dreams?”

Alice thought a moment. “Sometimes. Once in awhile I feel myself waking, and I force myself back to sleep so that I can finish the dream.” Too late, she realized what she was admitting, that sleep was preferable to her dreary waking life.

The doctor seemed excited by this news and turned to her desk to seize a clipboard and scribble a note to herself. Writing, she said, “I am affiliated with a clinic in Boston where they do dream research. Would you be interested in going there as a research volunteer?”

“This isn’t your way of getting me to commit myself?” Alice joked.

“Is this some deep seated fear we’re talking about here?” asked the doctor. “Do you have an obsessive aversion to men in white coats?”

Then, seeing that Alice’s face suddenly fell, the doctor favored her with another of her easy laughs holding up her hands to signal a time out. “Hey! Just kidding, okay? I really do need volunteers though, and I promise that nothing painful or embarrassing will happen to you there. I could even arrange time off for you—with pay.” There was something coy in her voice that made Alice suspicious.

“I don’t think so” Alice demurred.

Dr. Deluse just shrugged. “Think it over. It could be fun. Would you mind scheduling another visit next week? You may be suffering from depression, and I can help you with it.”

She wrote a prescription that Alice threw in the first trash bin she saw on the street.

Alice sat in front of her keyboard wearing only her nightgown and holding the disk in her hand. In her dream, Rick told her that she would be given a disk. The next morning, the real Rick had sent her this program. Perhaps it was not such a coincidence. Computer disks were as much a part of her life as the movies she fed on; yet just holding this one sent an irrational chill through her. She almost wanted to throw it away.

She ran the program.

The first thing to appear on her screen was a warning. This program is the exclusive property of Muse Inc. Unauthorized use is illegal and potentially hazardous.

“Sure,” said Alice sarcastically. Many games began with bogus warnings, designed to give the illusion that users were participating in something forbidden. She continued.

The program that followed was a disappointment. While her monitor screen filled with images of happy people enjoying life, having picnics, running on the beach, and playing with children, a narrator spoke over the images. It was a baritone voice, speaking slowly, sounding bored.

“This is the Muse program, designed to put you in touch with your subconscious mind through subliminal suggestion and dream images. No effort is required on your part, simply relax and enjoy the video portion of this program while the patented Muse affirmations do the work for you. With a single use of this program, you will find yourself transported to the realm of the imagination. Though this technique is still experimental, most users have reported improvements in concentration, alertness, and attitude. Some have even experienced positive physical changes and incidents of synchronicity or extra sensory perception.

“Relax,” droned the voice. “Let the program work. If you feel sleepy, don’t try to stay awake. Let it flow through you. Feel the tension ebb from your muscles. You are warm and safe.

“Relax.”