I had been tossing and turning all night, sleeping badly and dreaming intermittently until morning. One of the sporadic dreams that I could manage to remember was rather disturbing. I had dreamt that a cat was fervently trying to communicate, but I couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell me. It was a little disconcerting, to say the least.

I woke up with a start, just as the weird dream was ending. I shook off the remnants of sleep and began to get ready for my day. I was trying to forget about the strange dream that I had…

Living happily ever after,

in a world of verse with rhyme

But, just what happens

at the end of storytime?

Do clouds have silver linings

as they dance across the sky?

Do princes slay the dragons

crouching close nearby?

Does the good witch really save the day?

While the bad witch slowly dies?

Or are the storied fantasies

just deceptive lies?

Does a jewel need to be returned?

Or a princess saved from harm?

Are pixies granting wishes?

Amulets casting charms?

Where are the queens and fairies

in the world that we call real?

And how do I battle without…

Because . . . is there anything more irresistible than a furry kitty tummy?

Newly divorced, I drove away from my old home with little more than the clothes on my back and a fluffy cat snuggled under my arm. My cat Princess wouldn’t have had it any other way. We’d been through thick and thin together, so were off on our own again.

Princess loved being with me and we were inseparable. Her soft, thick fur just invited being caressed. However, she guarded her highly sensitive tummy with her life. As much as I would have loved giving her snow-white fuzzy belly a rub, it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. …

I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky. — R. Kelly

The thing about clinical work is that each day you never know what’s coming. You can be working with a patient in the most clear-cut treatment plan with everything going textbook perfect and suddenly . . .

“Hi, Joe. Nice to see you.” And it was. Joe (not his real name) was a regular in my therapy room, but unlike some others, a willing and enthusiastic participant in his treatment program. He worked hard in session and practiced the suggested exercises in the times between visits. He was open, expressive and insightful — all elements of the “perfect patient.” …

We all read articles from time to time that hit us unexpectedly. Some give us welcomed insight and new perspectives. Others . . . not so much . . . insights perhaps, but not welcomed ones.

This morning I read one that basically informed me that I was an “old hag.” It also more pointedly described me in a harsh and vulgar term that meant I was no longer a desirable specimen with whom to have sex (i.e., unf***able). All of this because of my age — specifically, over 50.

The author was not trying to be mean or shame…

“But it was long ago, and it was far away

Oh, God it seems so very far.

And if life is like a highway,

Then the soul is just the car,

And objects in the rear view mirror may appear

closer than they are…”

- Lyrics by Meatloaf

The popular rock personality “Meatloaf” is by no means a trained psychologist. Nor is he a qualified researcher in the social science arena. He has not attended graduate school. He has no clinical experience. His message is poetic and anecdotal rather than based upon statistical and psychometric standards. He is simply a…