Wicked Love

three hours.”
“Ohh–nooo,” I reply, “I’m not about to go through this hypnotherapy with you pushing the buttons!”
He looks at me with those golden-flecked hazel eyes and frowns. “Do you trust me Carson?” he asks.
I bite my lower lip. “It’s not a matter of trust, Krew. It’s the fear of this repressed whatever, not knowing how bad it is, being revealed with . . . you present.”
He helps me off with my jacket as if what I’ve just admitted is no big deal at all to him. “Listen,” he says softly, “there’s nothing you could say or reveal that would make me feel any differently about you. I’m not here with a Ouija Board, Princess. I’m a certified holistic hypnotherapy professional. I know you personally, I’ve worked with you professionally on the physical healing, and now I very much want to help with the emotional healing.”
I’m still not sure I want to continue. He sees my reluctance.
“How about this? We go into my comfort room, and I’ll lay out the process for you, from start to finish. If you decide against it, I’ll take you back to your dorm. Agreed?”
I exhale a sigh. “Yeah . . . I guess.”
“Great, follow me.”
We enter his comfort room, which I clearly see how it got its name. The lighting is soft; the walls are painted in pale shades of blue; the furnishings are upholstered in soft grey plush and match the thick carpet. There is a soothing water fountain in the corner, and some vanilla scented candles on the glass-top table next to the sofa.
“Take a seat,” Krew offers, his hand reaching out towards the sofa. The sofa has an array of pastel colored velvet toss pillows strewn about, and as I sink down onto it, I pull one of them against my torso hugging it like a child would a teddy bear.
“Nice,” I remark. “I see you know your stuff with the soothing, calming and stress-relieving decor.”
He takes a seat across from me on a matching love seat, and steeples his hands under his chin. “Carson, the important thing is that you feel comfortable and relaxed. Disregard any notions or preconceptions you might have on hypnotherapy, in particular, the holistic approach I use. You will be conscious, you will be in a deep state of relaxation, similar to when you might find yourself daydreaming during a class or maybe during a stakeout,” he says with a smile.
I return the smile, because already, his soft, deep, resonant voice has started delivering some calm. “Very funny,” I reply. “Please, by all means, continue.”
He does. He explains to me that 95% of our behavior is controlled by our subconscious rather than by our conscious mind, which yeah, kind of blows me away. He says the key for me is to allow my subconscious to come forth, and feed my conscious mind the information pertaining to the incident last October so that I can be free of it.
“I’ll never be free of it,” I snap.
“Yes Carson, you will,” he insists. “It’s already pushing through bits and pieces through your dreams. It’s like pulling a band-aid off slowly, and dealing with the pain in tiny increments rather than pulling it off quickly and allowing the pain to subside.”
I nod. “Okay,” I sigh, “Let’s do it.”
“Get comfortable,” he instructs, “Take off your boots.”
“Why?” I ask straightening up.
He chuckles good-naturedly, “Trust me, I’m not going to ask you to take off anything other than your boots. I want you to get comfortable on the sofa, put the pillows under your head and neck, and then I’m going to sit down here,” he says, as he walks over to the end of the sofa.
I pull off my boots, and lay back against the velvety pillows, scooting back to get comfortable. He takes a seat at the end of the sofa, and pulls my feet onto his lap.
“Your feet are a hub of pressure points. Did you know that?” he asks, as his fingers start a slow, methodical press and rub massage on one of my sock-covered feet.
“Umm, yeah, I’ve heard that,” I reply, enjoying the foot massage. “Should I close my eyes?” I ask.
“Whatever you want, but don’t fall asleep on me,” he replies, clicking a remote, which pipes soft instrumental music into the room. “You need to be deeply relaxed, but if you start to fall asleep, I can pinch you right here,” he says, pressing a place on my insole, which immediately causes me to jump a bit.
“I get it, I get it,” I reply, “Just keep up with the foot massage, Doc. Especially around the ball of my foot. I think it’s really working.”
He chuckles again. “Never knew a woman who didn’t enjoy a nice foot massage.”
“You still don’t,” I say, my eyes closing.
He puts me though some slow breathing techniques, and true to his word, I’m totally in a deep relaxed state.
“Tell me about the end of October of last year, Carson. Did you have special plans to celebrate Halloween?” he asks softly. “I checked the weather for that week last year. It was a late fall; the leaves hadn’t totally left the trees yet, and it was a week of crisp, cool sunny days, wasn’t it?”
I nod. “Yes, it was. I remember how the smell of fall was everywhere as I went to and from my classes that week. I skipped my last class on the 28th. I never did that, but I did that day because of the party.”
“Party?”
“Yeah, One of Shelby’s friends who wasn’t in college, was having a Halloween party at their house over in Washington Heights on a Thursday night. She said I should go, but to make sure I wore a costume because it could get a little raunchy.”
“And is that what you liked?” he asks.
I giggle. “No, but I know Shelby and the people she keeps company with, you see. So, I was hoping to get a few connections for the class I’d been accepted in for the following semester.