The Hypnotist's Love Story: A Novel by Liane Moriarty

Author:Liane Moriarty [Moriarty, Liane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101584989
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2015-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

You’ll never forget your first age regression!

—Flynn Halliday

Describe what’s going through your mind,” said Ellen. Alfred Boyle, the humble accountant who wanted help with public speaking, was sitting in the green recliner displaying all the signs of an ideal hypnotic state: His cheeks were flushed, his eyes moved restlessly behind his eyelids, his well-polished black business shoes splayed outward.

It was Ellen’s second session with him and she was doing an age regression.

After their first appointment, it had become obvious to Ellen that Alfred’s fear of public speaking was a full-blown phobia. He trembled and stammered just talking about it. It was having a serious impact on his life. He regularly called in sick on days he was due to give a presentation.

Alfred had already regressed to his first job as a trainee accountant, when he’d made such a hash of a short presentation, his boss had eventually interrupted, “Don’t worry about it, mate.”

Now Alfred was describing an incident in high school where he’d had to give an impromptu speech on the topic of music.

“I feel sick,” said Alfred. His voice sounded younger. Not as deep. Even the awkward way his jaw moved reminded Ellen of a teenage boy. “I’ve got nothing to say about music. Music. What is music even? Like, sounds and shit? I cannot think of a single word to say about music. They’re all staring at me. They think I’m an idiot. I am an idiot.”

“Where do you feel the fear?”

“Here.” Alfred pressed his hand to his stomach. “I’m going to vomit. Seriously. I’m going to vomit all over the classroom floor.”

Ellen looked at him uneasily and felt her own nausea rise.

“We’re going to use that feeling like a bridge,” she said firmly. “And we’re going to follow that bridge to the very first time you felt that way.”

She was on the hunt for what was called the “Initial Sensitizing Event.”

“As I count backward from five to one, you will travel back in time. Five, you’re becoming younger, smaller … four, you’re following the feeling … three, you’re nearly there … two … one.”

Ellen leaned forward and tapped Alfred lightly on the forehead with her fingernail. “Be there.”

She waited a beat.

“Where are you?” she said.

“Preschool,” said Alfred.

At the sound of his voice Ellen felt a cold shiver. It never ceased to amaze her when this happened. There was a fifty-two-year-old man sitting in front of her, but she was talking to a small child.

“How old are you?”

Alfred held up his palm and tucked back his thumb.

“Four?” said Ellen.

Alfred nodded shyly.

“And what’s happening, Alfred?”

“It’s quiet time, but Pam is crying in the reading corner. She’s really sad. I think I should cheer her up and give her a present.”

“How?”

“I’m giving her a present.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea. What is it?”

“My snail.”

Oh, dear. This was clearly not going to work out well.

“Your snail?”

“Yeah, I found it on the footpath this morning and I put it in my pocket. It’s huge! And guess what?” Alfred’s face filled with boyish enthusiasm.

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