Jules sat in the chair on the client side of the desk and tapped his fingers on the arm. He eyed the couch along the wall with the plethora of potted plants and wondered if he should lay down. The couch was still beckoning him with it’s plushness when the doctor walked in.
“Mr. Verne,” said the pleasant-faced middle-aged physician as he held out his hand, “I’m Dr. Robinson.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Jules. He stood up to shake the doctor’s hand and glanced over toward the couch. “Should I?”
“Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”
Jules smiled and sat back down in the chair. “I’m afraid I might fall asleep.”
“Yes,” said Dr. Robinson. “I see from your file that you’ve been experiencing nightmares.”
Jules nodded. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve been dreaming that I was alone and shipwrecked, and ended up on a deserted island.”
The doctor smiled. “That’s funny.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Well, your name…”
“Yes, what about it?”
Dr. Robinson opened his mouth, hesitated, and opened up the file on his desk, muttering, “Mysterious Island, or never mind,” Jules wasn’t sure which. When he glanced back at his patient, Jules was squinting at him.
“You were there…”
“I was where, exactly?”
“On the island.”
“But you said it was deserted.”
“It was. In my dream, I was you.”
“I find that highly unlikely.” Dr. Robinson’s face reddened, as though he was lying.
“You remember being there, don’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about sir.”
“You do! You most certainly do!”
Dr. Robinson stood, paused, grabbed the file and ran from the room. Jules chased him, only to watch the man jump overboard. He imagined the last thing Dr. Robinson saw before he drowned were the words “Ship of Fools” emblazoned on the side of the boat.