Transference
278 Words
Some pain is never spoken.
It is transferred.
When the client left the session, something remained in the room.
Not a word.
Not even a thought.
A weight.
Lâl could not immediately name it.
There was only a dull ache on the left side of her chest.
A sensation that did not belong to her life.
She closed the chart.
Extinguished the candle.
Opened the window.
It did not leave.
This is how transference works.
Without awareness, the body receives.
Words do not pass — emotions do.
Not memories, but imprints are carried.
The trauma belonging to the client’s family was already visible on the chart.
A suppressed shadow in the fourth house.
A loss never spoken of for generations.
A grief without a name.
But the chart revealed something else:
This pain no longer belonged to one person.
Lâl could not sleep that night.
In her dream, she saw her own childhood — but the faces were unfamiliar.
The house was known; the memories were not.
The same pain…
A different body.
When she woke up, she looked into the mirror.
The face was hers.
But the eyes carried someone else’s mourning.
For the first time, she understood:
Some clients do not read charts.
They read the one interpreting them.
The boundary between astrologer and client exists in theory.
But once transference begins, boundaries dissolve.
Pain changes place.
Stories change bodies.
And the universe leaves the burden with the one who can carry it.
Lâl wrote a single sentence in her notebook:
The same pain.
A different body.
Because now she knew:
This was not a fate written in her chart.
Yet it would still be lived.
- Writer
