My first experience being professionally hypnotized the other day – after I won a past life regression in a raffle. I didn’t know what to expect, but the first surprise was the hypnotist was cute. Young, monkish, soft pleasant face, and a deeply calming voice. We dove right in with him taking me Deep Deep Deeper into Relaxation. I felt a change wash over me as my brainwaves switched gears. It reminded me of the time my brother and I went to some weird clinic in Chicago where we wore a pair of “light show goggles” that changed our brainwaves. As the monk was bringing me Deep Deep Deeper into Relaxation my defenses started to melt. Time and space expanded between us like silly putty, with him feeling 100 miles away one minute, then right beside me the next.
I still had “the program” running in the background – aware of the room and the hot stranger whispering in my ear – until the trance took on a blinder affect, and I suddenly felt like a very sedated creature that was not so connected to her body. I spoke in stretchy drawn-out tones. I didn’t say much but every word I spoke felt like a resounding vibration. He began to ask me questions about my early life. I just told him what I saw in my third eye. Something about being in the sandbox. Then we went back into my “past life”. My imagination was sparking as I saw myself working in the fields in the middle ages. Pregnant and in a bad way. There was some dark shadowy figure who kept coming in and out of my life giving me handwritten letters. In the end I died of a whooping cough. The story was complex and felt obscure and yet personal. The cute monk led me through my violent death with the whooping cough. It was painful and my throat ached like knives. Pretty depressing.
Slowly he brought me out of the trance and into reality. I felt destabilized. What was that crazy story about the pregnant wench? It must have come from my imagination, but I felt pretty into it. I was disoriented, coming back to earth. I wanted to climb on the couch and sip tea with the monk. Reluctantly, I resisted.
We talked about Aleister Crowley for awhile and how self-righteous pagans can be. He told me he used to be a military cop for 3 years before the US invaded Afghanistan and he went AWOL. How he ended up doing hypnosis I don’t know but that certainly piqued my interest. Then he “lent me a book” and wrote his phone number in it. I walked home floating in a half-trance.
Pretty hot date.