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stress-induced.”
    “What kind of stress?”
    “Mostly work, I suppose. I’m in a bit of a decline.” Julia felt exposed voicing aloud what she had been feeling.
    “Is it causing financial problems?”
    “Oh no,” Julia said too quickly. “I make a very good living.”
    “Then what kind of decline?”
    Julia paused to consider her answer. She had felt herself spiraling downward in more than her career. Jonathan’s rejection
     had not been the first. But she decided to stick to the script. One humiliation at a time .
    “I guess the best way to describe it would be a loss in stature.” Hearing her own words made her feel trifling. “That’s not
     what I mean. How can I describe it? It’s just that for the first time in my life I sense myself sliding down instead of climbing
     up. Yesterday’s news.”
    “I understand,” Linda sympathized.
    Did she ? Julia wondered. An elegant fifty, Dr. Moreland carried herself with a grace that evoked calm confidence. A visual tour of
     the office suggested Linda’s practice had been thriving for many years. No sign of any downward plunges.
    “I did get a new assignment earlier this week,” Julia continued. “Probably nothing like I’ve done in the past, but it could
     open more doors and put me back on track.”
    “Let’s hope so.” Linda’s soft smile failed to conceal her skepticism.
    As nine ticks of the clock bellowed over the silence, Julia wondered what Linda was thinking. Dr. Moreland had no doubt heard
     far more serious problems. She probably thinks I’m a prima donna with a bruised ego .
    Julia wanted the session to end.
    “What can you tell me about your father?”
    “My father?” The question surprised Julia.
    “Yes. You said the man in the dream made you think of your father.”
    Julia relaxed some. “Right. He did. Well, at least how I’ve imagined him.”
    “In his face?”
    “No. I can’t see his face, only his shadow. Never his face.”
    “How then?” Linda probed.
    “I guess in his presence. He seems strong and kind.”
    “But you wake up frightened?”
    “More frightened than I’ve ever felt before,” Julia continued. “But I don’t think I’m afraid of the man as much as what’s
     happening, like we’re both caught up in something dreadful.”
    “What can you tell me about your father?” Linda asked.
    “Just what my mom told my sister and me. There was an affair. He left when I was little.”
    “Has either of you ever tried to contact him?”
    “Never had the chance. He died when we were five and four. End of story.”
    “And you can’t recall any other details from the dream?”
    “None. It almost feels like entering the most intense scene of a long movie. I know something bigger is happening, but I’ve
     walked into the theater just when the conflict peaks. I sense the danger, but I have no idea what’s going on.”
    Julia stopped. She had never attempted to describe her dream to anyone before, keeping it buried beneath a solitary facade.
     Linda’s attention, like a reader’s subscription, had given the experience validation. Perhaps even purpose.
    “Anyway,” she said, hoping to retake the reins. “Do you think you can prescribe something to help me sleep better?”
    Dr. Moreland grinned, revealing a gentle patience likely acquired working with clients far more high-strung than Julia. “I’m
     afraid I don’t make a habit of writing prescriptions during the first thirty minutes of meeting a new patient.”
    “Of course. I’m sorry.”
    Still in command, Linda launched the second wave of her invasion. “Tell me about your love life. Are you in a relationship?”
    “Nothing steady. But I date.” The question triggered defensive feelings in Julia similar to those felt during college dorm
     life. Girls sized one another up based upon their latest sexual conquests. She’d hated the demeaning game, even when winning.
    “So there has been no breakup?”
    If only my relationships lasted long enough to