He was always on time for group therapy, promptly at nine am although even though he thought therapy was generally a waste of time, he went so that he could keep his career.  Why listen to other people’s problems?  He knew what this was – nightmares and headaches, but more importantly…(had to leave this blank)

            The group therapy leader went around the gaggle of five patients, asking each individual what thought intruded into their mind the most – and bothered them the most as well.  One patient said, “God talks to me, tells me I am not his son Jesus, but I look like him with my long hair, so now I must act like him before he calls me back from my earthly mission.”  He played with his shoulder length hair and smiled triumphantly. 

            The leader asked, “Does that bother you Hank?”

            “Well, yes.  Mostly because I think he will soon ask me to be crucified too since Easter is coming soon.  Seems I have so much to do with so little time remaining.  I hope I don’t have to be crucified because I am averse to physical pain.  I hope he’ll call me back before Easter arrives.”

            Wyatt stared straight ahead, arms crossed, emotionless face, despite the overwhelming urge to sprint to the exits with his arms pumping hard.

            “What about you Wyatt?”  The therapy leader purposely avoided saying ‘doctor’ so as not to give Wyatt away to the other patients.  “Do you have anything to share with the group?  Don’t be shy Wyatt.”

            Wyatt paused, ignored the disturbing images and said, “I sometimes dream that I go fly fishing in the mountain stream naked, because my dog took my waders and pants away, but I can’t catch any trout because they laugh at me and say, “Sir, you better be thankful we’re not flying fish because we would fly circles around you, then steal your flies and spit them back at you, hoping someday you’ll learn how to present the correct flies to us properly in the water. And by the way, most trout aren’t scared by noise as much as they are of naked humans wading in our homes, uninvited. There is a mountain stream dress code you know.”  Wyatt wasn’t sure how he was able to come up with this silliness so quickly, but he tried not to laugh at his own concocted fish story, at least initially. But the rest of the clients maintained stone cold serious faces.

            Wyatt eventually had to put his partially closed fist to his chin and mouth, to make sure that he didn’t laugh out loud at his fictional story. And then, the tall one, Karl said, ” I had a dream or vision more likely, like that too. I was fishing and a fish jumped up and bit me in the ass, and then never even said he was sorry.”   After that, the session that day was no longer effective for any of the participants.  All the patients wanted to talk about was trout fishing and the proper clothing for such activities.  Thereafter, all the patients addressed Wyatt as the Trout Whisperer.

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