The First Impression

That morning, I had an appointment with the hypnotist. It was only an introductory meeting. Mind you, before I let some stranger play with my mind, I’d like to know what he looks like. If all went well, then perhaps we could proceed on another day. In any event, the lapse of time would provide a buffer zone in case I changed my mind.

My first impression of the hypnotist was not the best one ever made. He was a short pudgy balding gay guy with formidable yellow teeth. He had a bounce in his steps, as if the heels of his feet never quite reached the ground. He was dressed conservatively yet, shabbily, like horseplaying boys in boarding schools. Not terribly impressive, still he looked rather harmless.

I understood from doing some research that hypnosis could be used as an adjunct to therapy. That it was a state of inner absorption, concentration and focused attention. A period during which the senses are more acute, enabling a person to gain control by being more engaged in the inner world. Although there is deep relaxation involved, the mind is perfectly alert. This is the zone where that individual can resolve inner conflicts. And that was exactly the reason why I wanted to do it.

So there we were, sitting in his office, talking about what had brought me there. It was rather pleasant; a cup of tea would not have seemed out of place in that setting. After all, from all the local websites I had searched, hypnotherapy was often linked to crystal balls and tarot cards. Thus, if I could not find out what had happened in my childhood, then perhaps I could have a chat with my guardian angel! Either way, this could prove to be quite interesting if not plainly amusing.

As I mentioned in an earlier chronicle, this hypnotist was not especially versed into the therapeutic aspect of his work. Actually, he was rather clueless about the consequences his words could have. And so, blissfully unaware, eventually asked if perhaps I might have been sexually molested in my childhood? Huh? Well… not that I recall… Oh boy… What had I gotten myself into?

But the comment stuck to my mind; it had made an impression. To tell you the truth, I was stunned. Nobody had ever asked me such questions. Could I have been - I mean molested? I didn’t know. But the possibility didn’t feel far fetch. It was just not something I had ever considered. I guess that’s why I was so surprised, because it didn’t seem so ridiculous. It actually made sense.

I was scheduled to meet with him again the day after to address the issue. Now, I wasn’t so sure anymore it was a good idea. One thing was clear though, it was time to take advantage of the buffer zone for an emergency meeting with my best friend, Marco.