Peanut Butter Dreams?

“... And again, I wake up and there he is, just smearing smooth Skippy peanut butter on me! Then I fall asleep again and I’m fine, almost perfect one could say.”

I listen to this fifteen year old recount his peanut butter nightmare, and all I can think is: This is not what I pictured when I got my Psychology degree from Stanford. “Brody, you’ve been coming in and telling me the same story since Christmas.”

“Well, Mildred, that’s when it started. What do you want me to do? You ask me ‘so what’s been bothering you lately?’ That’s it! That’s what’s been bothering me!”

Thirty-seven minutes left and then I’ll be at home, on my velvet couch, wrapped in my silky blanket, stroking my Persian cat. It’s the last therapy session of the day. You can do this, Mildred.

“Mildred? Helllooo? Are you even listening to me?”

Brody came to me around four years ago. I diagnosed him with separation anxiety stemming from the absence of his twin, PJ, who left to live with his dad, due to their parents’ divorce. Why does it always smell like peanuts when he comes into my room? “You know what, Brody, why don’t you start again, but this time tell it from the beginning, from before you fall asleep. What do you think about? What’s your routine?”

“Ok, as I've said before, I brush my teeth and say goodnight- you know, the usual. Then I lay in bed and it takes me two minutes to fall asleep since I meditate like you told me to…”

He tells the same story every week, ever since Christmas break. The summer holiday starts next week, marking six months of this recurring dream.

“...then I feel like I’m falling so I wake up and there he is, PJ, smearing peanut butter all over me. And since I'm allergic, my throat closes up, I struggle to breathe and look around for my medicine, and then BAM! I’m fast asleep again and...”

I’d kill for a PB&J right now. “I have an idea, Brody,” I blurt out, not realising I’ve just interrupted him. “Listen, what if during our sessions we concentrate on the original reason you started seeing me? You know, your separation from PJ. Then maybe it will take your mind off the peanut butter.” Mm, peanut butter…

“Why would we talk about my separation from PJ? He’s been back since my dad moved away- since Christmas.”

“He’s been back since Christmas!?” How did I not know this? Wait a second, Christmas? “Brody, didn’t we say that the dreams began during the Christmas break?”

“Yeah…” he sounded confused, but I had a theory.

“Maybe it’s your brain trying to subconsciously tell you that you want to have a better relationship with your brother. And restore what you once had. What do you think?”

“Well, yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe….”

“Brody, I want you to lock the door before bed from now on. Until next week.”

“Um, why?”

“If I tell you it may not goes as planned. Just trust me. Now, the session is over so I’ll see you next week. OK?”

“Ok… I’ll lock my door but I don’t see why...”

“Just do it. Like the meditation. Trust me.”

“Ok. See you.”

“Bye bye. Sweet dreams,” I laughed. He looked at me almost disappointed and walked out the door. I peeked outside and caught my first glimpse of PJ; I thought I was seeing double. He was wearing a white hoodie with the Skippy logo on it. That reminded me. I pulled out a jar of smooth skippy peanut butter. Mmmm, how I’ve waited for this. Every time he’s here, smelling like it. Talking about it. Peanut Butter. I just crave it.

The following week, Brody came into my office with a big smile.

“Guess what, Mildred?! The dream! It’s gone!”

“I knew it would work! How do you feel?” No way. That was a lucky guess. You go, Mildred!

“Honestly, it’s like there’s been a weight lifted off my shoulders. Also, I don’t feel as weak.”

Weak? Why would he feel weak from a dream unless…?

“... PJ and I were having such a good time together, but lately, something’s been off. It’s kind of crazy that my dad moved states when they got divorced and I….”

If his brother really is psychotic, he’ll have to lock the door before bed for the rest of his life. “Oh, Brody, that must be hard for you, but realise that it must be hard for him being away from your dad. Do you think you can handle the summer holidays without me?”

“Me? I can handle anything. PJ will get over it,” he winked at me playfully.

“Great, because it's the end of our session. I’ll see you in a month and a half.” I’ve got to talk to PJ.

“Wow, already? Well, have a lovely summer, Mildred. And thanks. For everything. ”

He walked out of the room and as I saw him and PJ heading down the corridor. I jumped up and said as calmly said as I could, “Boys, before you go... PJ, could I speak to you? Privately...”

“Sure, Dr Mildred...”

The boy looked confused as he walked into my office.






“Peanut Butter Baby .” Tenor, 2016, ttps://tenor.com/view/peanut-butter-baby-ah-gif-5900388.