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"Doctor, it's like a nightmare, but it happens when I'm awake; I try to move, but I can't; I try to go forward, but I have to stand still; I can't take it any more! It's driving me crazy!"

"These feelings are quite common, in today's stressful society. I wouldn't worry."

"But Doctor, it happens all the time!"

"I see. Most unusual. Where do these incidents of standing-still happen?"

"Lots of places -- sometimes at the post office, waiting to buy stamps, or maybe at some big box store in the mall trying to pay for a pair of socks. And just last week the worst of all -- the express checkout lane at the supermarket."

"Why can't you move at these times? Is someone restraining you?"

"No, it's just that things happen. Bad things...."

"Tell me about these bad things."

"Well, one night last week we had an irresistible urge for ice cream, and I ran in to grab a container of rum raisin for dessert. The lot was packed, so my wife waited in the car, in the 'No Parking' lane. There were long lines at the regular checkout lanes, and the self check-out lanes were backed up -- one lane was out of order for a change. But there were two express lanes, 'Ten Items or Less,' that looked like the best bet. I got in the shorter one. There were three people ahead of me -- I figured I'm out of there in five, six minutes, tops. The checker-kid's badge said, 'Hi, My Name is Michael.'

"The woman in front was paying. Two people to go. I glanced at the tabloids posted over the counter: 'Sinatra, Elvis spotted in Vegas!' I looked back. The woman was still paying -- with a check. The kid complained that the check was drawn on a bank in New Zealand. She shrugged. He picked up the phone. 'Manager to register six!' We waited. Beads of moisture were forming on the rum raisin. The manager showed up. Can't take the check. Woman dug cash out of purse. Quarters, dimes, and 11 pennies. Good. She's done. Move up one.

"Michael started ringing up the next batch. I'm still calm, Doc -- I looked over the impulse items at the counter -- do I need an eyeglass repair kit? No. Then the scanner beeping stopped -- the bar-code reader was having trouble with a veggie in a wrinkled wrapper. Michael yelled to the kid in the other express lane, 'Carol, what's the code for parsley?' 'Try 4011!' she yelled back.

"He entered the code but it rang up as bananas. 'Price check, register six!' Fine. Checkout started again. Then stopped again. The register had run out of tape. Michael fumbled under his counter for a replacement. No tape. He looked at Carol, but she was mediating hostilities between a woman with exactly 10 items and a guy with a wagon full.

"The manager came with price check and new tape. The tape went in, the customer went out. One man ahead of me. Only five items...easy stuff: bread, eggs -- but four coupons. The rum raisin felt squishy as I put it on the belt. Michael rang up the guy's coupons. One had expired. Oops! He dropped egg carton, eggs crack. Man goes to get another one. We waited. Michael chatted with Carol, whose lane was momentarily empty. 'Seeing Pete Saturday?' Michael asked. 'No, he's busy.' Should I jump into Carol's lane? Too late. Filling up again. Man came back with the eggs. He swiped his card. Nothing happened; swiper not working. He pulled out a checkbook and wrote an exquisitely neat check. Produced ID; Michael scrutinized it. OK. Man goes.

"At last, Doc! My turn!...But Michael was pulling out his cash drawer! Another kid was taking over! 'Hi, My Name is Daryl,' his badge said. The kids were doing their little cash-drawer dance! Michael tells Daryl that Carol is not seeing Pete Saturday. They laugh. Daryl, for Pete's sake, move it! I thought. OK. Daryl scanned my rum raisin. I paid. 'Have a nice day,' he said.

"It was was over, Doc. I went out to the car and could only slump into the seat. The ice cream was leaking. My wife had gotten a parking ticket. That's the kind of thing happening out there, day after day...but I don't care. Not caring is a sign of depression, isn't it Doc? I'm desperate. Can you help me?"

"Of course I can help you. The solution to your problem is quite simple. All you have to do is...oh, excuse me, there goes my pager...It seems I have an emergency. Can you come back next week?"

Bernard Jacks lives in Marlboro.