Or you could be my patient, Atsuko nearly blurted out when Marisa laughed at her but she kept her hypothesis gripped by wrinkled brows and pursed lips. Anyway, it won't make sense. If Marisa was the patient and this was Marisa's dream, then why was she unaware of it? Dream therapies were all done with the consent of the patient so that Paprika would be invited to explore. And that was another thing: why was she not Paprika?
Curiouser and curiouser, she wanted to say. So far, the parade of fridges and cabinets hadn't arrived yet, at least...
She stood patiently by the supermarket Marisa had taken her to and explored it from the outside while the blonde offered her some foreign-looking bills Atsuko glanced at and shook her head to. "It's all right, I've got my credit card..."
And then Marisa asked her if she was a doctor. Atsuko wondered how long it took her to realize that.
Anyway, she wasn't wearing her ID so she was excused. She nodded and smiled at Marisa. "I'm a psychotherapist," she answered simply, honestly.