Therapy Session

“Janus?” Dr.Guven said to me with a raised brow, as I entered her modest office.

“Yeah it’s me,” I confirmed, nodding my head.

“I see…How has the change been?” She asked me.

“Ok, I guess. It’s a little strange but it's not a huge difference. My skin cleared up which is kinda nice,” I said.

“Ok,” She noted before writing something down. “Do you have the letter today?” She said as she looked back up at me from her large pair of glasses.

“Yeah, I have it right here,” I said, getting it out of my messenger bag. She read through it quickly before saying.

“You wrote this before you turned?”

“It happened this morning,” I explained, stiffening a bit.

“Did something happen?” She asked softly.

“Well, to be honest I think it was caused by me making a pact with an idol after I smoked these herbs the old woman working at the occultist shop gave me when I bought a book on meditation and finding your personal idol or spirit,” I said awkwardly.

“Ooh. So a lot has happened,” She said with a straight face. “Why do you think this…experience caused it?” She asked after brief scribbling.

“It happened last night. Before I woke up like this,” I said as I scratched my head.

“I see…and you think this pact worked?” She asked with a furrowed brow.

“I think so. I don’t really know how but I think I can sense the presence of these spirits…I can feel their eyes watching me as I get close. But If I move away the feelings stop. I haven’t been able to really test If I can do magic yet,” I said.

“Hmm, That does match what I have read happens after someone’s first astral experience. But it’s still so new I have only read a few testimonials. What is your idol? Most say they are these great animal spirits, and they make a pact that you will…embody them, their personality, virtues, etc,” She rattled off getting more interested.

“Um, Mine is a bit stranger. They are like this large cosmic god of…the moon, night, the depths. It was pretty cryptic when describing what it expects of me, and some of the terms seemed contradictory. But there was a theme that it wants me to accept myself, my nature, my beast whatever that means,” I said not wanting to get too specific since thinking over it now It dawned on me how crazy this all seemed.

“Huh. That is strange. But I can agree with the idol that you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. But you have any idea what it means by beast?” She said while constantly writing.

“Not really. We only had one conversation so far and it was short,” I said remembering the awe inspiring spirit. But my brow furrowed when trying to think of the true meaning behind their words.

“What did the idol look like? Does it have a name?” She asked as she continued to write. After describing the idol in great detail, I heard the voice of the Idol in my head say what must have been its name to me. As I kept thinking about it as it repeated the unpronounceable name, along with an endless series of epitaphs. But from what I gathered the names means, “Monarch of Moons”, “Patron of Thieves, Spies, and Subterfuge”, “Ruler of the Celestial Tide”, “Keeper of Secrets”, “Beastmaker”, “Artificer of Fetishes”, “Shahanshah of The Abyssal Realms”, “Shepherd of the Lost”, “Voidweaver”...Then I started to get a sharp headache as the endless list as names muffled as the bounced repeatedly inside my skull.

“Ahh…” I grunted putting a hand to my head. “Too many titles…But before…I think their name sounds like a bunch of names said at once. I could make out only a couple, Soma…Syn…Mene…Yareah or something close to that,” I managed to say.

“Are you ok?” She said with concern.

“I’ll be fine…when I thought of what…Soma’s name is they bombarded me with names; a mind numbing amount of epitaphs,” I explained.

“I see so you can hear their voice…Do you hear it all the time?” She asked.

“No…this was the first time I started to hear their voice while I was awake,” I elaborated.

“Well we can check up on that for next sessions. Let's get into why you are really here,” She said as she turned to a new page in her notebook. The rest of the session was uneventful. Spent time talking about family relationships, how I lost my dad early on while he was at sea. How my mother had to raise us by herself and was always working. How I look at myself in despair even knowing that I changed. I look “better” I guess but I still have the same feelings. My contempt for traditions and expectations of the culture I am a part of. Nothing new. I rather not work in manual labor all my life and lament how I wish to do something more creative. But I am not sure what.