A Dream and Then, Sam
My subconscious must have been anticipating my session with Sam because I woke up with a very vivid and compact dream that seemed to sum up quite of few of my neuroses in a few deft scenes. It was also my second dream of the week to take place at Wesleyan, something I have been consciously anticipating since I left Middletown on Sunday.
As I explained to Sam as soon as it was my turn to be client, both dreams were bereft of the usual confusion around graduation and missed classes. There was something "matter-of fact" about them. Being in Middletown seemed as natural as being in New York. In fact, by the morning of the second dream, I was already mixing people I knew from St. Michael's with the students and alum from Wesleyan. The climax took place during a concert the venue for which seemed to be a complete amalgam of the Wesleyan student center, the chapel and the balcony at St. Michael's. It was a classical music concert that was being beamed out through closed-circuit television; the screens were small enough to be contained on the backs of the pews.
Sam went first as client. I was glad that he agreed to come over and that he seemed to be in good spirits when he emerged from the elevator on my floor. He quickly confided, however, that he was "coming down" with something and, despite all outward appearances, was actually exhausted. So, I offered to counsel him first.
And, this was when I noticed once again a certain phenomenon that I have probably been taking for granted for decades: that whenever a client begins to take their turn, you can almost see their lizard brain taking over. All pretense fades from their eyes. The bright and chipper middle-classs mien melts away. With Sam the transformation is particularly compelling to watch because, like many gay men, his normal posture is to project good cheer and a sunny disposition at all times, "Smiling through the tears" as it were. To watch his eyeballs turn invward, only to reemerge with a kind of heavy-lidded -- I almost said, "menace" -- "gravitas" is probably the more accurate term -- can be intimidating.
I think Sam realiizes this and takes pains to reassure me that his attention is in complete balance. He'll say things like, "Ron, you're so sweet" and he'll make an effort to get closer physically. Physical counseling seems to work wwell with him although on this particular Saturday morning I was reluctant to make him get on his feet and start pushing me around. If a client tells me he's tired or not feeling well, my go-to tactic is to treat him like he is a child staying home from school. He gets to play hooky. He gets to relax. He even gets to sleep during his session, if the trust level is there.
Sam is the oldest of four children, IIRC, so it isn't easy for him to relax and be the one that is taken care of. His immmediate reaction to my suggestion is to suggest that it is the same as wasting his session. So, we compromised. He spent his session scanning early memories around feeling disappointed with himself.
I spent my session unpacking my dream. Dreams are tailor-made for getting a new counselor up to speed as far as your chronic material is concerned. The key moment came near the end of the dream when a pair of young adults - a white male and female invited me to go to the concert with them. But, soon after we entered the inner sanctum where it all took place, the guy asked me whether I wanted to go with him somewhere else. I didn't particularly. He was a nice guy, a toussle-headed blonde who didn't really resemble anyone I knew in real life. He was a complete blank slate. So, it took me by surprise when, as soon as I demurred leaving the concert with him, he turned to the woman and very clearly propositioned her and they left together instead.
The dream ended shortly thereafter and I told Sam that I felt that my being "completely present" and not particularly restimulated by the young man's good looks, had cost me an opportunity to "hook up" with him. When Sam asked, how that made me feel, I replied, "I think that's been the story of my life."
As I explained to Sam as soon as it was my turn to be client, both dreams were bereft of the usual confusion around graduation and missed classes. There was something "matter-of fact" about them. Being in Middletown seemed as natural as being in New York. In fact, by the morning of the second dream, I was already mixing people I knew from St. Michael's with the students and alum from Wesleyan. The climax took place during a concert the venue for which seemed to be a complete amalgam of the Wesleyan student center, the chapel and the balcony at St. Michael's. It was a classical music concert that was being beamed out through closed-circuit television; the screens were small enough to be contained on the backs of the pews.
Sam went first as client. I was glad that he agreed to come over and that he seemed to be in good spirits when he emerged from the elevator on my floor. He quickly confided, however, that he was "coming down" with something and, despite all outward appearances, was actually exhausted. So, I offered to counsel him first.
And, this was when I noticed once again a certain phenomenon that I have probably been taking for granted for decades: that whenever a client begins to take their turn, you can almost see their lizard brain taking over. All pretense fades from their eyes. The bright and chipper middle-classs mien melts away. With Sam the transformation is particularly compelling to watch because, like many gay men, his normal posture is to project good cheer and a sunny disposition at all times, "Smiling through the tears" as it were. To watch his eyeballs turn invward, only to reemerge with a kind of heavy-lidded -- I almost said, "menace" -- "gravitas" is probably the more accurate term -- can be intimidating.
I think Sam realiizes this and takes pains to reassure me that his attention is in complete balance. He'll say things like, "Ron, you're so sweet" and he'll make an effort to get closer physically. Physical counseling seems to work wwell with him although on this particular Saturday morning I was reluctant to make him get on his feet and start pushing me around. If a client tells me he's tired or not feeling well, my go-to tactic is to treat him like he is a child staying home from school. He gets to play hooky. He gets to relax. He even gets to sleep during his session, if the trust level is there.
Sam is the oldest of four children, IIRC, so it isn't easy for him to relax and be the one that is taken care of. His immmediate reaction to my suggestion is to suggest that it is the same as wasting his session. So, we compromised. He spent his session scanning early memories around feeling disappointed with himself.
I spent my session unpacking my dream. Dreams are tailor-made for getting a new counselor up to speed as far as your chronic material is concerned. The key moment came near the end of the dream when a pair of young adults - a white male and female invited me to go to the concert with them. But, soon after we entered the inner sanctum where it all took place, the guy asked me whether I wanted to go with him somewhere else. I didn't particularly. He was a nice guy, a toussle-headed blonde who didn't really resemble anyone I knew in real life. He was a complete blank slate. So, it took me by surprise when, as soon as I demurred leaving the concert with him, he turned to the woman and very clearly propositioned her and they left together instead.
The dream ended shortly thereafter and I told Sam that I felt that my being "completely present" and not particularly restimulated by the young man's good looks, had cost me an opportunity to "hook up" with him. When Sam asked, how that made me feel, I replied, "I think that's been the story of my life."