I've had better mornings, I guess, but I'm awake now. Unfortunately. Gonna need some quacks who managed to brute force their way into the psych field to analyze why it was so important for my brain to decide to dream about the Hatebot being blue. Literally nothing else. I'm sure dreams have some amount of meaning but I'm having a difficult time ascertaining what it could be here.
Yeah. They're letting them into colleges and shit, giving them degrees. Went to therapy and had one of those funky motherfuckers sit me down and asked me to tell it how I felt about all sorts of shit.
At least, that's what I'm assuming it said. Didn't have an interpreter at the time, so it could only really communicate with interpretive dances and sufficiently empathetic duck noises.
Sorry, Rox. Unfortunately, only avians are allowed to practice. I'm sure you could keep around an emotional support cat and pretend it's a licensed practitioner, but the field doesn't exactly favor them. It's discrimination at its finest, but nobody wants to actually fucking talk about it. What a corrupt society we live in.