The Crazy Horse Electric Game by Chris Crutcher

nods.
    â€œA friend of mine and I were thinking about writing a television series once. It was going to be about a talking horse with an IQ of fifty. We were going to call it ‘Special Ed.’”
    Willie stares a second before he gets it, and laughs. “I…have…a friend…you’d…like.”
    â€œSend him around. I could use the business.” Cyril looks at his watch. “Uh-oh,” he says. “Ran us right on past dinner. That’s why they don’t let me stay in one place with an office of my own. I can’t get the hang of the fifty-minute hour. That’s the most important thing you have to learn at counselor’s school, you know. You have to learn to wrap everything up in fifty minutes. Then you can get a whole bunch of people in every day and become fabulously well-to-do. I didn’t do well at counselor’s school.”
    Willie stares at him, smiling and shaking his head.
    â€œSo,” Cyril says. “I’ll bet you’re figuring, ‘If this guy’s a fer-real counselor, why the hell isn’t he counseling?’”
    Willie raises his eyebrows.
    â€œThat’s a fair question.” Cyril pushes his wooden chair onto its back legs and folds his arms. “I got no magic, Willie. If I did, I’d go on Carson. I can’t make any of the things that have happened to you go away, but I might be able to find some ways to help you with them. First, don’t take any more drugs.”
    â€œDon’t…worry,” Willie says. “I…may …look stupid…”
    Cyril nods and goes on. “A lot of what happens now depends on truth. When you’re afraid your girlfriend is going away or your friends are keeping you around just because they feel sorry for you, you have to say that to them. You have to do something with your life that doesn’t set you up for that in the first place. If you present something for people to feel sorry for, they’ll feel sorry for you. You have to set goals just like you always did and bust your ass going after them.”
    Right , Willie thinks. I’ll set goals. Let’s see , STOP DROOLING , that could be one , but he just looks at the counselor and nods.
    â€œI know you think that’s not possible right now,” Cyril says, “but it is, and we can work on it. Now, if you’re having trouble with your family, bring ’em in and we’ll have some sessions together. If you want to have some sessions with your girlfriend, bring her in. Hell, bring in Sal Whitworth if you want to.”
    Willie smiles and nods. “The…dreams…”
    â€œYou’re not gonna let me get out of here till I don my swami’s hat, are you? Like I said, the dreams are easy. You dream better than most people talk. I would guess the tracks are just exactly what they appear to be. They don’t come together, just like your system doesn’t come together right now. That’s your fear, and your dream just plays it out. And if you played the Crazy Horse Electric game again right now, the ball would hityou in the back of the head. You’re not what you used to be, and you’re resisting the hell out of it. Your dream is just telling you what you already know.”
    Willie looks disappointed.
    â€œNo magic, remember? But you can get a leg up on the dreams. Just tell yourself before you go to sleep that you already know that crap and you don’t need to be reminded. Get it in your head that if you dream it, you’re going to recognize it for what it is. That can take some of the power out.”
    That makes some sense to Willie. “Okay.”
    Cyril leans forward in the chair and the front legs come to the floor. He takes off his glasses and rests his elbows on his knees. “Willie, I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. What you’re going through is a lot of loss. It’s like death. You’re