May 29, 2007 14:55
I am in my aunt's house, and we're trying to solve a murder mystery. A psychologist is there, attempting to help us piece together the information and clues. He's a typical handsome Hollywood-type kind of guy. My mother starts explaining what she thinks about the mystery. The psychologist then jumps in and asks, "You have anger and temper problems, don't you?" He explains that what she was suggesting was really just a projection of her own feelings and how she would have responded if she were the murderer. Everyone falls quiet. Then I start talking, and again, the psychologist interrupts and says, "You have some emotional problems. You've been emotionally abused." And he sits down next to me. We're all sitting squished together on a 1920s style sofa, the psychologist, me, my mother, my aunt, and maybe my cousin, uncle, and uncle's father too. The sofa is actually in my aunt's dining room, pushed up against the dining room table, and leaving even less space.
Then, it's later in the day. The psychologist is sitting on a couch in the living room when I come in and sit down next to him. He propositions me. I respond to him, "You just got out of a really quick relationship with a girl you wanted to be in love with," and it is like the tables have been turned. We laugh. He lays down on the floor and I get on top of him. He starts touching me, but I start to get nervous and embarrassed because I remember that the seam of my underwear is coming out, and it looks like there's a huge rip at the top. I have my sense of touch, and I am actually able to feel the sensations of sex.
sex,
clarksville,
aunt,
psychology,
murder