Chapter 5

Brenda felt better when she stepped out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel. In her robe she made herself some dinner and when she finished her world started feeling a bit more normal. There was still an undercurrent of uneasiness that she couldn’t identify, but she pushed it under. She brushed out her hair to let it dry fully, then found some going-out-with-friends clothes.

She was surprised that, despite her initial hesitation, she was glad they’d invited her. It would be good to break out of her routine and have some silly fun with friends and almost-friends. She suspected strongly that there would be much alcohol involved, so she opted to call an Uber rather than drive herself.

At the club her friends were sitting at a table they’d commandeered and shouted her way as soon as she came in. After a round of hugs and cheek-kisses they got settled. Martha said, “We’re experts at this, we’ve been doing it a long time, so stick with us. What are you drinking?”

She decided she wanted a dirty martini and one was in front of her in short order. “Here’s to women running the world,” toasted Martha loudly, earning her a dismissive glance from a couple of the guys at the bar who had previously been considering making a move on someone at their table.

Brenda had to admit, they were serious about their partying. By the time she was through her second dirty martini, some of them were complaining that this place was a downer tonight and maybe they should go somewhere else. They tossed ideas back and forth, a comedy club, go somewhere to hear a band, a dance club. Randi, another O’Brien’s employee who also worked a counter, pulled a newspaper out of her purse. “Maybe there’s some ideas in here. Lemme find the Entertainment section...”

Her nose buried in the page she muttered, “No..., don’t think so, ... possible..., wait! How ‘bout this? I’ve heard of her before, some friends told me she’s incredible. And there’s a show starting in a half hour.”

“Her who?” asked Martha. “What is it?”

“She bills herself as The Amazing Rebecca. She’s a hypnotist and comedian and my friends told me it was one of the funniest shows they’d ever seen. I’ve never seen her, but her reviews are over the top.”

Martha looked at the ad and shrugged. “Well, we couldn’t agree on anything else. Anyone opposed to going to see The Amazing Rebecca?”

No one said no, but neither was there enthusiastic agreement. “Okay, done deal then. Let’s settle up and hit the road. It’s only a couple of blocks, easy walk.”

Less than ten minutes later they were walking east, laughing amongst themselves. “There it is,” called out Randi, pointing. We’ve just got time to get a seat.”

Actually they had more than enough time, as the performance time listed in the paper was off by fifteen minutes. So they were shown to a table and able to order their next round of drinks with time to spare. Brenda thought she’d wait a bit before ordering another, already a little tipsy.

In the middle of the table were a couple of small showcards, one listing the drink specials, and the other a short publicity blurb and bio of the night’s performer. She picked up the bio and browsed it.

Finally, she said aloud to the table, “That’s really interesting. How many performers do you know that have a Ph.D.? It says here that she got her start while in graduate school and she started working as a hypnotist to pay for school. She found she liked it and after she got her doctorate in clinical psychology, she kept doing this stage act part time for fun. She runs a clinical psych practice during the day. Isn’t that fascinating?”

They all wanted to see, and passed the card around the table. Martha commented, “So she can fix all your phobias on stage for the amusement of the other patrons? Is there a cover charge if you visit her practice during the day? Will your medical insurance cover the cover charge here if she actually solves one of your problems? Help me out here?”

Her request went unanswered because the lights went down and an announcer boomed over the PA, “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the time of your life. Please welcome The Amazing Rebecca!”

There was enthusiastic applause and from the wings came an attractive, professionally dressed woman smiling broadly. She waved at the crowd as she picked up the microphone from its stand.

“Thank you. Thank you very much. I’m delighted to see all of you here tonight, and I think we’re going to have some fun. So. Some of you may have read the bio that’s on the tables. I’m a clinical psychologist, which is kind of like a psychiatrist, but not. So why’s a psychologist here doing standup and hypnotism tricks? I learned to do hypnosis in college -- long story -- but when I decided to become a psychologist, I really didn’t have enough money to get through grad school. The pittance that grad schools give to their students in exchange for grading and teaching isn’t nearly enough to pay for books, housing, and food.

“Some people do paid tutoring to make up the difference, others are waiters and waitresses, and so on. It’s never enough. So when I was faced with the same problem, I said screw this, there’s gotta be a way to make more. I considered prostitution, but then I took a close look in the mirror. Options diminishing rapidly.” The crowd chuckled.

“So I finally wrote down on a piece of paper all the things I could do reasonably well. I could tell jokes, mostly, and make people laugh. I did that at student parties. I could play some guitar and sing. I did that at student parties until they asked me politely that I not do that. And I could do hypnosis.

“And that narrowed down the list quite a bit. So I started doing these amateur nights at various clubs, working up an act, until I got pretty good at it. And I found the thing people liked the most was not the jokes so much, but rather watching people go into a trance and being made to dance like chickens.

“No, wait, I’m joking, of course. I never do that. Turns out the poultry industry has a very strong lobby, so no chicken dance.” The audience was laughing now, as she loosened them up.

“Anyway, after I finished my Ph.D. and started a practice, I found that I missed the stage stuff, which was fun and relaxing and allowed me to show off the show-off side of my personality. So I started up again, a couple of times a week, and I found it was a good balance with my serious clinical work. I keep them separate. I won’t tell you about my patients, and I won’t tell my patients about you, either. It would scare them!

“Okay. Everyone’s over the age of eighteen here, right? You have to be to get in. So when we start the show, we may get into some scenarios that might be considered a little off-color, embarrassing. I won’t ask anyone to do anything to violate their usual norms, so no making people strip on stage.” The crowd groaned.

“Sorry, but us professional stage hypnotists, we got standards. I got mine in a box of Cracker-Jacks. However, there are other things that might stretch the boundaries, just so you know. We don’t want to embarrass anyone, but admit it, you sometimes get a chuckle at seeing someone slip and fall from a banana peel, right? Or a pie in the face? It’s true, we like seeing others in an awkward situation, glad that it’s not us.

“So even as you chuckle at seeing your friends and spouses and co-workers doing something on stage they’d never do elsewhere, you’re thinking, ‘I’m glad it’s not me!’ So treat them kindly afterwards, ‘cause it could well be you next time!

“Here’s the question everyone asks: Can everyone be hypnotized? The short answer is no. Some people are too controlled, not responsive to suggestion, so in an environment like this, probably won’t happen. Maybe in a clinical setting, but not here. However ... a lot of people who insist they are immune to hypnosis turn out to be remarkably suggestible. If you’ve never had it done to you before, you won’t know till you try.

“Right, then. Why don’t we get started? We’ll start with something simple. If this is going to go anywhere at all tonight, I need a couple of volunteers. Who’s up for some fun?” She looked into the audience, where every table had some people trying to get others to step up.

She filled the empty space with some humor. “Things can get strange in clinical psychology. A colleague had a new patient walk into his office, completely naked and wrapped in Saran Wrap. The psychologist says, ‘Good thing you’re here. I can clearly see you’re nuts.’” That was met with some laughs and a few groans.

“Okay, it looks like we have a couple of folks who’ve clearly had too much to drink and have volunteered. C’mon up here, this way. There’s stairs at the sides of the stage.”

Two audience members, one male, one female, not quite sure if they were doing the right thing, stepped up shyly. She set the at ease, asking their first names and where they were from, had they ever been hypnotized before, like that. She sat them on chairs that had been arramnged in a line at the back of the stage.

“Okay, Sam and Sarah. Do you two know each other?” They shook their heads no.

“Right, then, so I’m gonna get you two to relax, get comfortable. We’re all going to have a good time and maybe get a little silly, too. But all in good fun. Okay, here we go.”

She got them to focus on her, talking quietly and soothingly, in a calming, rhythmic cadence, her voice beginning to sound like a drone. She went on for two minutes, telling them how relaxed they were becoming, how pleasant they felt.

Then the sound of her voice rose and she told the two of them, “ ... I’m going to count down from five, and when I reach zero, you will fall as deeply asleep as you’ve ever been, hearing only the sound of my voice and nothing else. Five, four, three, two, one, ... zero. You are deeply asleep.”

The two heads lolled to one side, the man with his mouth half open, which made his friends laugh.

Facing the audience, she said, “Until I address them they won’t respond, nor will they register what I’ll say here. Now, I’ve been doing this for awhile, and I know there are a lot of hypnosis skeptics around, convinced these are just paid shills who help me put a con on the audience.

“Nope. Both these folks came with friends who know them pretty well and can say with some authority, they’re not shills. Hypnosis is just a state of intense focus that allows us to concentrate on the mind or the body. For example,...”

She walked over to the male. “Sam, can you hear me?” He mumbled yes, loud enough for the mic to pick up. “Sam, I’m going to give you an injection, harmless, but it will allow your muscles to achieve super strength. Would you like that?”

He nodded. “Good, then I’ll inject you now. She reached out and pinched his upper arm between thumb and a finger. “There you go. That didn’t hurt very much, did it?” He shook his head.

“That’s right, but now you can feel increased strength flowing like an electric current through your arm, making it incredibly strong, almost invincible. You’ve never felt anything like it before. You feel like you could lift a car with one arm. Sit up straight in your chair, Sam. Good, now extend your right arm and make a fist. Do you feel how much power is contained in your muscles now?

“Hold your arm straight out, Sam. It’s so strong that nothing can dislodge it. It’s immovable. Can you sense that?”

Sam sat in his chair eyes closed, arm sticking straight out. She stepped over to put the mic back on its stand, then walked back to Sam, put both her hands on his arm, and pushed down, leaning into it, obviously straining. The arm didn’t budge, not an inch. There was an intake of breath in the audience.

“His mind controls his body, to a great extent. He doesn’t know his own strength, as most of us don’t. Hypnosis allows us to focus the mind.” Turning to Sam, she said, “Sam, the vitamins are wearing off now, and your arm is returning to normal. You can put it back in your lap.”

“Sarah, I’m so glad you could come tonight. Tell me a little about yourself. Do you have any hobbies, things you like to do?”

Sarah spoke quietly. “No, not really. I like to read, I sew some of my own clothes.”

“I like to do those things, too. What have you always wanted to do, but perhaps you’ve been a little afraid to?”

“Umm, I’d like to travel more, but I’d prefer to go with friends and they don’t like it as much as I do. And I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I’m too shy.”

“Sarah, I’ll bet you have a wonderful voice. Do you watch a lot of singers on television, like on America’s Got Talent, shows like that?”

“Yes, I like watching those shows.”

“Me, too. But as we’re talking, Sarah, you’re finding something odd happening. That shyness, the self-doubt that always seemed to be there in the background, is drifting away like a morning mist in the sun. And suddenly you are filled with an overwhelming urge to sing, to share your joy with everyone else. Would you sing us a little of one of your favorite songs?”

The change in Sarah was palpable. The woman who had looked nervous, a little embarrassed, trying to fade into the background, sat up straight and her face opened in a glorious smile.