4 Maladaptive Daydreaming

"Chunhua?"

I jump so badly I nearly spill my coffee all over my desk. I slap the button to darken my desk monitor and leap to my feet all in one motion, heart in my throat.

"Robin! I thought you left for your 12:30 already."

I plaster on a huge, fake smile, and pray he doesn't read too much into my flushed cheeks. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding. It's deafening to me. If he can't, it's a miracle.

"Sorry." He's grinning, amused. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," I lie.

God, I'm a terrible liar.

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Fetish for anything can lead to frequent daydreaming. Daydreaming can help solve problems, trigger creativity, and inspire great works of art and science. When it becomes compulsive, however, the consequences can be dire.

When daydreaming turns addictive and compulsive, it can overwhelm normal functioning, impeding relationships and work.

There have been periods in my life when daydreaming just took over everything. I was not in control. I would retreat into fantasy any waking moment when I could get away with it. It was the first thing I wanted to do when I woke up in the morning. When I woke up in the night to go to the bathroom, it would be bad if I got caught up in a story because then I couldn't go back to sleep.

I have always loved the daydreams, but I've always felt it was consuming my real life. I went to parties with friends, but I just couldn't wait to get home. There was nothing else that I wanted to do as much as daydreaming of my billionaire boss making love to me.

For daydreamers, the draw of an alternative reality borders on addiction, choking off other aspects of everyday life, including relationships and work. Mostly, daydreamers would be starring themselves as idealized versions of themselves—as royalty, raconteurs and saviors in a complex, ever changing cast of characters—addictive daydreamers may feel enhanced confidence and validation. Their fantasies may be followed by feelings of dread and shame, and they may compare the habit to a drug or describe an experience akin to drowning in honey.

For me, it was different. I was already perfect..perfect to be the "object of intense desire" for a billionaire.

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Robin glances away from me, and nods at the monitor. "I didn't mean to interrupt your, ah… alone time."

Alone time. Did he see my screen? Oh, god, did he guess what I was doing?

"I just didn't hear you coming. Did you need something?" Deflect, deflect. Anything to keep him from asking too many questions about why I just panicked and turned off my computer screen.

"Actually, yes." He nods past me toward his office. "It's a bit… sensitive, though. Could we talk in private?"

He doesn't wait for my response, just strides past me into the office.

I cast another panicked glance around the floor, but there's nobody else here, no one who can spare me from this. My heart sinks. Robin never asks me to speak in private, much less about sensitive issues. He's normally an out in the open kind of boss. The only time he shuts his door is if he needs to tell someone they've done something wrong. Which means this is it.

He knows I've been writing dirty fantasies about him. He caught me reading them at work—what was I thinking? —and he's about to tell me he needs to move me to another department.

Heart in my throat, I step into his office. The second I shut the door behind me, Robin gestures to the chair across from him.

Oh no. Worse and worse.

We don't normally stand on ceremony, not between us. If he wants me to sit, it must be bad news. I perch on the edge of the chair, too nervous to sit back or relax.

"What is it?" I ask, eager to get it over with.

I've never liked waiting, especially for bad news. I'd rather just rip this band aid off straight away. But Robin leans back in his chair and considers me for a long moment. Dragging it out. His gaze drifts past me to the windows and back again, like he's double-checking that we're alone.

Finally, he sighs. "There's no easy way to say this, Chunhua."

I clench my fists in my lap and resist the urge to shut my eyes, to brace for the blow.