I do take you to normalize me

This morning I woke up, mouth dry and feeling nauseated as usual, after having a dream that my therapist asked me to be the flower girl in her wedding. In it, I wore a frilly white dress and a wreath on my head and I felt so, so privileged to be chosen out of the long list of her patients. In reality, my therapist is happily married, 65 years old and I haven't spoken to her in months after deciding I couldn't afford it anymore, monetarily, emotionally...or matrimonially. I began to consider the deeper meaning of all of this, but the rain startled me. I wanted to wistfully listen to it pitter-patter against my window, but I realized that the downpour was in my kitchen. Dodging the drops, I poured myself some orange juice, downed it and set my cup on the floor to catch the ceiling's drizzly discharge. Then I wandered over to my computer and wondered, "What's Michelle Obama wearing today?" And then after all of this, I thought that I should probably get back in touch with my therapist.