6- Our teacher´s from the past

I hope you can understand when she enters, and locks the door behind herself - she said coldly when I turned my back and focused on serving her another drink. This time when I reached out my arm, I didn't even dare to breathe near her. I wanted to feel her for the rest of time, but I couldn't be with her. Paola reached out her hand and pressed my wrist again. Then she leaned over the counter with that sensual air that I knew so well in her, and with her free hand she caressed my cheeks. I couldn't think anymore, my mind was blank. My heart raced and the voice of the doctor told me it was time to return. But I wanted to stay there, kiss her hand, and lose myself in her whiskey and mahogany and citrus perfume. I wanted to kiss her so much and live a thousand years with her. I closed my eyes, wishing that she would kiss me, but nothing happened. I looked at her again and was surprised by the way she squinted her eyes, searching for mine. She could practically read my mind, but she didn't kiss me. Both of us stared at each other without saying a word. Paola didn't let go of my wrist, and I kept it around the glass of whiskey. She marked me with a bracelet of bright stones against my skin with her slender fingers. I was afraid to let her go, I didn't know why that scene was really important. What had happened between us? Then I found myself back in the light and I climbed the stairs. I didn't tell the doctor that I was sure I had seen Paola in the last regression. I didn't want her to take away that feeling I had when she squeezed my hand. I wanted that memory to be mine alone. That tingling sensation, so familiar, the caresses between two stars. My body still burns when I remember her, and inexplicably I lose strength when I see her sitting there in that bar, decorated as if it were the set of Midnight in Paris or The Great Gatsby. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine going back, being able to kiss her, and for some reason everything is perfect when that happens, as if she was expecting me to kiss her. She no longer holds me tightly, but rather with complicity. My legs no longer tremble, instead I look at her with confidence and kiss her. I never knew who we were in that past life, I only know that I was a bartender. Maybe the bartender's wife? And she would order another drink and love me like that, even if she was married, with my feelings towards her filled with fragility.

You must know that when you don't cure yourself of melancholy, love avoids connection in this way, and you can put your self in a critical state, Anastasia. We know that you have strong feelings of pain from past lives, and that makes your energy stronger. When you finally let go of the love you feel for Paola, which is now trapped inside you, you will be able to reason about your emotions. However, by not modifying the libido that has settled in you due to melancholic labor, you can actually become depressed. Grief will communicate the loss of the object and offer life as a reward, then you can live again without constantly falling into that melancholic state. Nevertheless, grief can lead people to suicidal or self-destructive instincts. Unable to remove your fixation on the object, it is very possible that you will harm yourself just to kill the melancholy. And that ending significantly influences many cases of melancholy and pathological grieving. It is not your case currently - the doctor said seriously - but you must accept that you are sick, and if we don't work on the problem it will get worse over time. You will fall into a melancholic state that you will adopt as a lifestyle, or you could even become self-destructive or want to end your life.

Suicidal instincts? - I shrugged, still wishing to go back to the regression to have Paola with me again. I looked up and stared at the doctor, resigned - I love life, sometimes I get depressed like Bridget Jones, but nobody dies from an overdose of ice cream and Oreo cookies.

Now we know that at least you don't have suicidal instincts - the doctor concluded. She curved her lips into a smile without showing her teeth. Then she took the glass jar on her wooden table and poured herself some water. She had talked a lot during my hypnosis sessions. She practically didn't stop talking and asked me to describe everything to her while my eyes were closed. I never told her that the woman I saw in that bar was Paola.

Of course not, my madness doesn't reach that point - I said dryly.

You're not crazy, Anastasia. You're just in a melancholic state and it's questionable to dismiss any depressive episode, which fortunately you don't have. Now… let's move on to the root of the conflict of not being able to be sexually intimate with Cristina.

Oh, my god! Has Melisa told you about that? - I asked scandalized, covering my mouth.

Let me remind you, Anastasia, that Melisa and I are friends, okay? She is also going through a problem of being in love with you and not being reciprocated as she desires - she explained, smiling. Her eyes filled with a mischievous shimmer. I stayed silent as the doctor observed me with inquisitive eyes. Despite my resistance to say something about the matter, the doctor continued speaking - Alright, currently, your sexual need is very linked to your melancholic state and you are repressing it because of those latent emotions. That's why you cry every time you're about to have sex. But we'll work on that in the next session - she said firmly. But after what I saw that afternoon, I wouldn't go to another session with her. Having so much mentally to work on made me think that I could really lose control of my mind.

To think that Melisa had a problem being in a relationship with me saddened me. I didn't want it to be like that, I was the one who tried to have the first sexual encounters with Melisa. However, I couldn't go any further, I wished to know why I pushed her away, why I desperately wanted to distance myself from her or stop kissing her before crying in her mouth. When I have relationships, I never resign myself to thinking that I can only shine with beings of another race, shooting stars like Paola and me. My skin sparkled when I was with Melisa, she enjoys it and doesn't even notice my glow as something supernatural. However, I had created a new tense atmosphere between Melisa and me, now that we had more trust, she desired intimacy and I rejected it. Melisa wanted to possess me, for my glow to belong to her completely, I gave in to her, but I realized that I was bored, every gesture, every orgasm and moan. So I decided to stop it before I had to get bored or worse, hurt her feelings. On the other hand, maybe Melisa had sought guidance in therapy to calm herself down, perhaps suspecting that it was because of Paola, but without fully believing that I hadn't been able to forget her. I was sure I wouldn't return to sessions with Dr. Mercedes, but I couldn't blame Melisa for talking about our sex life with the doctor without addressing the root of the problem: the pleasure that she didn't awaken in me. A distant pleasure, forgotten, abandoned, that couldn't emerge with synchrony, beauty, or anything that was beneath the lightness of the soul.