Jim’s fiancée, Tracey, wasn’t a bad person, not at all. She was certainly, really smart. That was kind of the problem. As nice as she was, she was… a little pedantic. She always wanted to have these lofty discussions, and talk about highbrow things. That was okay sometimes, but I could tell it was starting to wear on Jim. I knew it might kill the relationship if he couldn’t get some relief, and I had an idea of just how to do it.
I’m a hypnotist, both onstage and off.
Tracey didn’t believe in stage hypnotism. She knew therapeutic hypnotism had some real impact, but she always poo pooed my profession as just “play acting.” So, when Jim finally convinced her to come see my show, I knew just who my audience volunteer would be.
I made certain Jim and Tracey had front row seats for my latest club show. It wasn’t a huge bar, but the audience numbered in the forties. When the opening jazz quartet finished their set, I took the stage. I launched into my usual routine, moving quickly to seeking a volunteer.
I approached Tracey.
“Would you be so kind as to be my volunteer?” I asked her.
“Oh no,” she said with a small laugh, “Pick someone else.”
“Please, madame, I won’t hurt you.”
“It won’t work,” she said seriously, “I’m a combined brain thinker and we are nearly impossible to hypnotise.”
I’d heard it all before.
“That sounds like a challenge, I said with a smile. “Audience, do you think she should do it?”
There were always a few who wanted to be the subject instead, but most of the audience cheered loudly.
“Please?” I asked again.
“Oh, alright,” she conceded. Peer pressure was a powerful force.
I led her to the stage.
“I’m telling you,” she repeated, “it won’t work.”
We’d see about that.
“You seem very bright,” I began.
“I like to think so,” she responded.
“So bright, a light at night.”
She looked puzzled, “What-“ she began.
“No need to speak right now. Listen to words, absurd? Unheard. Words taking you in. Down. Listen to bliss and never miss.” The confusion induction was beginning to take hold. Bombarding such a logical mind with confusion will let her slip into a trance with ease.
“So bright, at night, not slight, that’s right,” I sped up my words somewhat. A hush had fallen over the audience, as it always did, and I could see Tracey’s eyes were getting that slightly glazed look.
“Look up at the light, see the light, so bright?” She looked up into the stage lights, bright enough to fill her vision. In a moment, the audience was gone. The light, and my words, were the only stimulus left.
“Let the bright, fill the night, fill your sight, feels so right. Light. Light. Feeling light. It’s bright, the light, don’t fight, don’t fight.” Another chunk of her wall of resistance crumbled.
“Night. Night. Feel the night. Do not fight. The night and the light, and you don’t feel so bright. Don’t fight. Don’t fight. Feel light, not bright, it feels right, so right. Don’t fight? Why fight? The light is right. Not bright, good-night. Feels right, no fight, just light, and night. Not bright, good night, no fight, no fight, it’s right, it’s right.” Almost there.
“No fight, not bright, I’m right, I’m right. So right, no fight, good night, not bright. Out light. Out light. Out light. Good night, mind white, no fight, just light, not bright, I’m right, good night, eyes tight, eyes tight, eyes tight.”
Her eyelids sank closed. She was under.
“Tracey,” I began, “You are in a deep sleep. A deep sleep. This feels like a dream. A fun, happy, dream. You are safe, warm, and comfortable. Nothing will hurt you. Nothing is wrong. This feels right, right?”
I waited eagerly, watching her blank face, eyes still closed.
“Yes,” she replied in a dreamy, faraway tone.
“You are listening. You are open. You are receptive. It feels good, and right. Safe, warm, comfortable. Nothing can hurt you. You can be yourself; you can be open. It’s fine. Safe, warm, comfortable. Repeat it.”
“Safe, warm, comfortable,” she obeyed.
“That’s good. That’s very good, Tracey. Now, Tracey, there’s something you need to remember. And I know you are very smart. So, you should easily remember it. You need to remember that when I say the word ‘calculus’, you will always return to this deep state of relaxation, openness, and freedom. Safe, warm, comfortable.”
“Safe, warm, comfortable,” she responded, with no prompting at all.
“Calculus. Tracey must remember. Tracey needs to remember. Tracey is smart, and will remember. Right, Tracey?”
“Yes.”
“Calculus. Drop deeper. Calculus. Always drop. Calculus. Smart girls remember. Calculus. Down, down, down. Calculus. Remember. Tracey will remember.”
“Yes.”
“Soon Tracey will awake. But all this will be gone. Faded like a lost dream. Only the subconscious remembers. Only the hidden mind. There it remains. Calculus. Imprinted. Calculus. Tracey understands.”
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” I hit her with the big gun. I could see a slight shudder pass over her body when I did.
“Now Tracey, calculus, when I tell you to, calculus, you will awake, calculus, unaware of any time having passed, understood?”
“Yes.”
“Very well, Tracey. Wake!”
Her eyes snapped open. She looked at me with an ever so slightly smug grin.
“I told you it wouldn’t work,” she said. Now, no longer afraid to interrupt, the audience broke into laughter. I could even see Jim holding back a chuckle.
“Well, I guess you proved me wrong. Calculus.”
She dropped immediately, eyes closed, head hanging slightly limp.
“Very good, Tracey. This feels right. This feels natural. Tracey is safe, warm, and comfortable.”
“Safe, warm, and comfortable.”
Up next, I needed to fill some time. I went through the motions of making her cluck like a chicken. It’s a cliché, but audiences eat it up.
Then I got a little more complicated. I made her forget the number 8. Gone. Like it never existed. Then I had her jump through some mathematical hoops. It seemed harmless, but it was my first step at making her question her much vaunted intelligence.
Now, the real fun could begin…
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