The Hypnotherapist

jacqueline | Aug. 10, 2022, 11:05 p.m. Attempt At Short Stories

Hello everyone, 

Today's story comes from the deepest depths of my heart and imagination. I hope you like it. As always, thank you for reading.

SHORT SHORTY - THE HYPNOTHERAPIST 

The sound of the fan was the only thing to lull her to sleep. 

Silence was always defining. Echoes of her past bouncing off the walls from shadow to shadow. Midnight terrors and dread of the future crippling her breath. It was the gentle winds that blew them all away. Shushing her to sleep. Her dreams would sprinkle in and woo her as she slept. 

Reality and fantasy toying with each other. It was peaceful until it wasn't. The shadows found their way into her ears and screamed, waking her up.  The fan would still be blowing bustling the dust around the room. 

The calm was not in the room. Her anxieties and fears filled the air. No amount of power from the fan could cover them unseen or unfelt. Sitting up on her bed watching the shades slightly sway from side to side, she sighs. 

If there is nothing is this world to bring her peace, she must find peace for herself. Sleeping seemed to no longer be an option. 

The sun finds its way to her windowsill and morning makes its way around the house. Coffee dances up the stairs and to her nose. One last flash of chills run down her spine as she realizes she needs to face the day once more. A deep and painful breath lift her feet from the bed to the floor and she feels her heart find peace in the rays of sun touching her toes. 

She watches her nail polish glisten and shimmer finding a simple joy in it and smiles. She knows she is not her fears and anxieties, she just wishes she could forget them. She'd like to be like everyone else, as she sees them carrying their pain much better or having no pain at all. 

The coffee is strong today. As she takes a sip, it warms her throat and enlivens her senses. She looks around the kitchen table and see the paper unfolded and opened to the third page. Someone in the house must have been reading an article and left it there, on that specific page. 

To the right of the character drawing of a politician, she sees an ad for hypnotherapy. 

HAVE YOU EVER CONSIDERED HYPNOTHERAPY?

CALL US TODAY AND SET UP AN APPOINTMENT, 

WELCOME TO YOUR NEW LIFE!

There was an image of a woman sitting on her bed with a fan blowing in her direction as she covered her ears in pain. 

Could that just be a coincidence? The woman looking so much like her, with a fan just like hers? She was always peculiarly drawn to synchronicities like this, as she believed the universe has its way of talking to you, when you really do pay attention. May it be good or bad, she could never tell, but she was always willing to find out. 

Picking up and dialing the number she saw, the phone rang. 

Three rings later, a woman answers, her voice was kind and inviting. She listened to everything and had all the correct answers, eventually inviting her to make her appointment and start preparing herself to arrive. 

The instructions were specific and personal. She must bring with her three personal items she still owned from her childhood, three items that brought back unpleasant memories, and three items that bring her joy. 

She did as she was instructed and had her things ready for the day that she called her taxi to arrive and take her to her first session. She was determined to be happier and feel better but first she must deal with whatever may be happening within her subconscious. 

This felt like the only way out, and the only way in. 

Her hands were clammy from not sleeping and expected anxiety. She could barely turn the doorknob as it opened on its own. A tall man with circular glasses and large warm eyes opened the door. She looked up at him, taken back by his size and thanked him for opening the door. 

He greeted her by name and assured her she would be safe. The room was made for giants. All the furniture was made extra-large, and the ceilings felt as if they rose to heaven. The walls were made of an old pine and the smell still filled the room. The tall man offered her a place to sit and place her things beside her. He sat in front and between them was an hourglass. The couch she was on felt like pillows made by angels. 

There was no silence, but there was also no speaking for a moment. Just the sensation of presence between the two. She was unsure if she should speak, so she didn't, and allowed for the moment to consume her. She did not feel fear, she felt comfort, and that was very pleasing. So pleasing she began to feel very relaxed. 

The man continued to sit there, still no words left his mouth, but he watched her with his eyes. He then motioned for her to grab, without looking, one thing from the bag. He covered his eyes and she covered hers. 

She reaches in and pulls out her first item. When she holds it in her hand and looks at it, her heart sinks, she doesn't want to talk about the pain that was just invited into her heart by seeing this, but she held it there, wondering why she still had it, wondering why she was here, wondering if she made a mistake.

Suddenly the man stands and walks over the hourglass and turns it. The sand begins to fall through the small hole, who knows for how long, but she looks up in curiosity as each piece of sand falls to form a tiny mound on the other end. 

The man finally speaks, and his voice is deep and entrancing. So deep that the sound sinks into her heart and soul. Filling the room with his deep, deep, deep voice. 

She awakens. 

She looks at the hourglass and the sand has fallen all the way through. Frazelle'd, she gets up, had she fallen asleep? Where had the time gone? How much time had passed? She was still holding her item. But it meant nothing to her. It looked like trash. Just a crinkled-up plastic bottle with resin all over it. What actual meaning had this held that she brought it? 

The man calmly walks over to her and places his hand on her shoulder. 

Tomorrow, if you'd like, we can try again. 

Let me know how you feel when you get home. 

Not exactly sure what had just happened, she collects her things, Thanks the man sheepishly and pays the woman at the tall counter. The woman looking down reaches out her hand for a pleasant shake and says farewell. 

The taxi ride was silent and peaceful. She allowed for any thought to come through her, but nothing did. It was so very silent. 

She made it up her stairs and to her room. She still had her bag of personal items that she had brought. 

Three items that she still owned from her childhood. 

Three items that brought back unpleasant memories. 

Three Items that bring her joy. 

She placed them out on the bed. 

As she looked at all of these things. She felt something very different inside her. She searched for her feelings about these items but couldn't find any. She didn't recognize most of the things in the bag. She knew of them, but they all meant nothing to her. 

She sat back on her bed, looking at her fan. 

It wasn't necessarily a hot day today. 

The only thing she could think about was her perplexity about the day. The tall man, and the room, it all felt like an all-encompassing moment in her life. Something that changed her very being. She had no thoughts but also no fears. She was calm and at ease. 

She got up from her bed and grabbed all of the things placed there and put them back in the bag. She had questions. What happened? What did the tall man do to her? 

She went back to the kitchen and called the office again. After three rings a woman answered. It was the same woman from before. Again, the woman listened to her concerns and offered her another appointment for tomorrow where she could speak to the tall man again. 

Again, the woman asked her to bring her personal items. 

She agreed and thanked the woman for her time. That night, she didn't sleep with the fan on, that night there were no shadows screaming her awake. 

The taxi arrived on time, and she opened the door quickly and with ease eager to get answers. The tall man was standing behind the door to greet her again by name. He escorted her as he did before to the room that now seemed smaller and more fit for her size. Although the furniture felt the same, she felt different. 

Sitting on the couch with the pillows made by angels watching the man again sitting in front, she speaks willingly. All her questions had poured out. The man listened attentively and patiently, with his hands folded together on his lap. He understood her concerns and asked her again to collect an item from the bag. 

She does so again and pulls out her teddy bear, the one she had as a child, and looks at it. Again, feeling nothing like before. As she looks at it longer with curiosity the man begins to speak, the same words as before. His deep voice filling the room and the hourglass is flipped. This time she consciously watches each grain of sand fall. She listens to the man's voice and once again like before she awakens to the hourglass finished and the time gone. 

She is still holding her teddy bear, but this time her heart fills with love. Hugging it as if it was her first time ever being gifted it. Looking at it with new eyes, its worn tattered look is beautiful and deeply loved. Every stich recognizable and mapping the memories of her life with it. 

Tears form on the sides of her eyes and drop down to the stuffed bear. The man once again stands and walks over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder.  

Tomorrow, if you'd like, we can try again.

Let me know how you feel when you get home. 

Unsure again she thanks the tall man and pays the woman behind the counter and leaves. The taxi pulls up to her house and up the stairs to her room she goes. Back on her bed she places the items once more out for her to see. 

Every moment, every memory filling her with joy and sadness. Every emotion possible flowing through her. Going through each item and reliving everyplace she was with them. Feeling her heart pitter-patter with every face that floods her mind. Her life felt like an exciting movie replaying itself in her thoughts. She lied back on her bed, not sleeping a wink that night, just in absolute gratitude that she was alive and got to live and breathe and be. She would cry tears of joy, so blissfully happy, she wanted to thank the tall man. She felt cured. 

She runs to her kitchen, unable to sleep and calling at a very strange hour, three rings and the same woman answers. She excitedly explains to the woman everything she is feeling and needs to see the man again. The woman listens and makes her another appointment. For tomorrow of course. 

The taxi arrives, and she jumps in and out, racing for the door, but the door was already open. holding her bag of personal items, she rushes through expecting the tall man behind the door to greet her by name. 

And there he was, as expected, warm and inviting. She felt like a little girl in a candy shop. She was so full of love and gratitude. The tall man finds his place at his seat, and she finds hers on the couch. The hourglass between them. 

The man motions for her to reach in the bag for another item, but this time asks her to do it with intention. To not just aimlessly pick, she much choose something that will bring up the reason she is here. She closes her eyes and sifts through the bag. Why am I here? 

She feels her journal, and pulls it out, looking at the black stained worn cover. Holding it out, she looks at the man. 

This. 

My memories were so painful. I've kept them all here. In this book that brings me joy. I let them go and write everything down here. 

She flips through the pages and watches as the pain in her heart returns, and the joy is gone, as she reads every sad day she ever recorded. Why did this bring her joy? What about writing her horrors down brought her peace? 

She wasn't cured, not yet. The pain was more crippling than ever before. 

She looks up at the man, she can't understand why these emotions are coming up, and the man begins to speak, the same deep entrancing words as before, flipping the hourglass with a very definitive motion this time. The sand begins to fall faster than ever before, trying to keep track, she awakens once more. Holding her journal, looking down, feeling very foggy this time. 

The man stands and lets her know this will be the last session.

She didn't want to hear that. She would pay more if she needed too. The tall man walks over and places his hand on her shoulder. He sighs.

Hypnosis does not erase your memories; it can only help you react to them differently. 

In your mind I found that you have an on/off switch.

I tried turning your feelings off, but you returned, so I turned them on, you felt too much, so now I've turned them off. I cannot turn them on again. I'm sorry. 

She should be angry at this, but she wasn't, he was right. 

When she felt so much, it was too much. 

This was the best option. 

She thanked him, paid the woman, got the taxi, and went home. 

On her bed, she looked at all of her things, and threw them out. She didn't need them anymore. She was cured. Her thoughts were silent. She reacted to nothing and felt nothing. 

That night, she went to bed, and the next morning, she got out of bed, had coffee, read the paper, and lived her life. Never again questioning her emotionless response.

She understood why her feelings couldn't be turned back on, as she had felt what it was to feel it all. She didn't need to anymore. 

She found her peace.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................

Happy endings are in the eyes of the beholders.