“Don’t look so worried Peter.” my mother said.
“I’m sure he’s done this hundreds of times before.”
“Well maybe not hundreds….” the doctor said.
“…but you’ve nothing to worry about.” he assured.
‘Nothing to worry about’…
that’s easy for them to say.
All I recall from last night’s dream was looking at myself in the mirror,
clad in feminine garments and being told that the upper garments I wore were ‘special’ training ones for boys.
‘Special’ because it’s designed in such a way that it cannot be removed by the wearer.
It’s not the sort of dream that I want to recall,
either consciously or subconsciously.
I seldom seem to have ‘normal’ dreams,
just weird ones where I’m somehow forced or encouraged to wear girl’s clothes.
More often than not, I wake in a cold sweat and struggle to get back to sleep.
“Pay attention Peter…
the doctor’s speaking to you.”
my mother said as my mind visibly wondered.
“Sorry.” I gulped.
“You were saying?”
“I was saying that after a little dream analysis… we’ll hopefully get to the bottom of why you’re not sleeping too well.” the doctor reiterated.
“Hopefully.” I gulped.
“Now, if you’ll just concentrate on the watch, and try to clear your mind of all other thoughts….”
The watch swung like a pendulum.
I followed it as best I could.
I tried to clear my mind whilst the doctor calmly recited a repetitive string of hypno-clichés;
relax,
clear your mind,
concentrate on the watch,
your eyelids are heavy,
you’re feeling drowsy,
empty your mind,
follow the watch,
blah blah, blah.
“Right well thank you… we won’t keep you any longer Doctor.” my mother said.
“Come on Peter… let’s get you home.”
“Good bye Peter… and don’t forget about that diary.” the doctor said, smiling and nodding as if to say ‘leave’.
I’ve witnessed hypnosis on TV numerous times and since I’m unsure whether or not he actually hypnotised me…
I’m presuming he did.
But asking one way or the other seemed silly.
Surely I’d know.
I don’t recall having a conversation about a diary, yet I knew exactly what he was talking about.
I’m to keep a diary next to my bed so I can write my dreams down the moment I awake.
Maybe that proves that he really did hypnotise me.
It felt strange as we left the surgery,
like I’d just woken up and hadn’t quite come round.
I climbed in the passenger door of my mother’s car.
“Am I going straight to school or home first?” I asked.
“Home first… you can go in this afternoon.” she replied as she fastened her seatbelt.
She turned the key and as the engine chugged to life, said “Well that was certainly an eye opener.”
“What?”
“Listening to your dreams.”
I gulped and feared the worst.
“What did I say?” I nervously asked.
“Why don’t you have a listen.” she said, pulling a cassette from her pocket and handing it to me.
“What’s this?” I knowingly asked.
“It’s the recording of your hypnosis.” she replied.
“Pop it in.” she suggested, nodding towards the in-car cassette player.
“I’d rather listen to it at home.” I replied.
“Was I out for long?”
“Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes or so…
don’t you remember?”
“Well, no… one minute he was dangling that watch in front of me and the next you said ‘lets go’.”
“It must feel very strange.” she said.
“I’ve never been hypnotised before.” she added.
I didn’t reply, but did try to recall if I felt anything at all.
Very little was said as we drove home.
I stared out of the window and watched the urban sprawl morph into suburbia and eventually into open countryside.
The cassette felt warm in my hand.
I know my dreams are weird but I tend to forget them soon enough…
I’m not sure if I want to hear them in detail.
Mum slowed down as she approached the hamlet.
As usual she smiled and waved at the locals on the way through.
Our house is on the far side and as sod’s law would have it, we have to wait for a humongous cattle herd to cross from one field to another before we can continue on the final fifty yards of the journey.
“It’s times like this I wish we lived in town again.” Mum said as we waited.
Unlike traffic lights, the herd can take five or ten minutes to cross and they do it twice a day.
“We could have listened to all of that at this rate.” Mum said, noticing the cassette that sits uncomfortably in my hand.
Eventually, the cows crossed and the road was re-opened.
The farmer gave Mum a cheery wave and she smiled and waved back, before chuntering under her breath about building a tunnel.
“Why don’t we give that tape a listen?” she suggested as she pushed the ‘eject’ button on the kitchen cassette player.
“I’d rather listen to it on my own… in my room.” I replied.
“And I’d rather you listen to it with me, in here.” she told me as she held an expectant hand out.
“Thank you.” she chirped as I placed the cassette in her palm.
Listening to ones own voice is always slightly odd.
“That doesn’t sound like me!” was my initial thought.
It began with the doctor asking me to confirm some simple details such as my name,
home town,
if I knew what day it was
and strangely, the colour of the sea.
I couldn’t help but snigger when I heard my reply; a greeny-bluey-grey.
Did you have any dreams last night Peter?
Yes
Can you describe it for us?
I was in my room and my mum…
well, I think it was my mum…
it could have been an aunt or someone…
anyway…
she was telling me how nice my undergarments were and, I looked down to see I was wearing girl’s undergarments.
As in… knickers?
Yes… and bra.
I glanced nervously at my mother and insisted that I don’t recall any of this.
Mum advised me to just sit and listen.
What colour were they?
Blue
Anything else?
They were really tight. I tried to get the bra off but I couldn’t.
Mum… or, the woman said it was a special bra that I can’t remove by myself.
She challenged me to try again.
And?
Could you get it off Peter?
I don’t know. I don’t think so… I think I woke up.
“I remember the very last bit.”
I confessed to my mother, “…about the bra.” I gulped.
“Shush.” Mum hushed.
“It’s important that we listen.”
Ah… and the night before last…
did you have any dreams?
Yes.
Can you describe it for us?