Branded

The doctor tells me he will treat me well.

I believe him. Not quite the doctor, of course, he still has three more years of med school, an internship and possible specializations abroad plus that damn board to take before he can become an official doctor, but there he is, telling me he will take care of me even if I didn't want to be taken care of by anyone.

I am thinking of someone else as he tells me this. I am putting a different face and a different voice to those words. I say he is nice. He cringes at the implication of nice. Perhaps I can grow used to nice. How bad can nice be? Many relationships have worked out because the boy was nice, though the girl was not.

But in the dream, someone else is kissing me.

It was a full-on make-out session, ladies and gentlemen, so much so that more than saliva was exchanged - our teeth got swapped somewhere in the middle and our tongues became so knotted that we had to figure out how to untangle them afterwards.