Being Four Years Old All Over Again

This post was amongst the hardest one for me to write. It triggered such a strong emotional reaction every time I tried that my mind went blank. But however long I postpone its writing for, I know I could never write another story until this one is told.

There I was, back in the hypnotist’s office, deep in a hypnotic trance. I was four years old all over again. Except that I was not. Rather, I was in the presence of the four years old I once was, observing her. During a hypnotic regression the – you - comes back as an observer as if you had inadvertently landed in the middle of a play with no role to play. The players don’t seem to notice your presence; you are free to walk around, to observe them, to scrutinize their interactions with each others without being emotionally involved. It is fascinating. There are times where you can also reach out to your alter ego and make contact.

At first, the hypnotist brought me back to the age of five but there was nothing to see, except perhaps statics. Statics like we used to get on TV at the end of the programming. Then we regressed further to my earliest memory. I was four years old. I was a beautiful little girl, blonde with long hair held in a pony tail by a red ribbon. I was wearing red pyjamas with little blue flowers and red fuzzy slippers. I was in the basement with my brother Richard. My dad had installed swings there for us to play during the winter. It was winter and it was dark. The little girl seemed happy on her blue swing, she was giggling. My brother was standing in front of her, his back against the wall, watching intently. Although pretty mundane a scene, it crept me out. Something was wrong. My brother had an erection; in fact, his penis was out in his hand. To a four years old, this wouldn’t mean much, but as an adult I was horrified and there was nothing I could but observe. A few minutes later she had been molested for the first time. To make matters worst, when it was all over, she saw her mother watching the scene.

She was four years old. A beautiful young naive and candid four years old. Her childhood was over. She had died before she could live. She would be nine by the time her torment be over. Forty before she could reclaim a life for herself.