I explained to Nat that his psychoanalysis cannot go any further unless we unearth whatever it is that troubles him enough for him to desire to take his own life. He agreed to try the hypnotism, probably out of the sheer boredom into which his life has degenerated. I wasted no time. I began the routine of asking the patient to tighten, then release one by one, toe to head, every muscle in the body. This should occur at a slow pace, in conjunction with deep breaths, tensing and exhaling whilst releasing the muscles, in order to achieve maximum relaxation. (Apparently Nat had never relaxed in his life!) The patient then raises one arm at full length, just above the head with thumb outstretched, the path of which is then followed by the eyes as it gradually falls, to the somnambulistic coaxing of my voice. When the eyes are shut, the patient pictures himself descending ten steps, which I count down until the full hypnotic trance is reached.
This phase went well enough with Nat. He stayed in the trance for two hours experiencing the usual heightened awareness, well-being, rapid but pleasant passage of time, and memory of being in similar though less deep states. He is happy enough to continue tomorrow and is surviving the festive season reasonably well.
FRI DEC 28
This time I showed Nat the power of hypnosis. I always feel more like a witch-doctor than usual at such times. The hypnotic trance being rapidly obtained, I placed a sterilised needle under the skin atop his right hand, with no pain induced. Nat seemed duly impressed and eager to use the new-found force to reveal the source of his misery. His ideas were running wild on the subject: from having been molested as a child, unfortunately more common than he thinks, to maybe even committing and then forgetting a murder, happily not so ubiquitous as he imagines. His fantasies were all quite normal: the vast majority of the concepts lie safely within the bounds of flight of thought and at quite a far remove from the frenzied excesses of schizophrenia.
THU JAN 3
On the third day of hypnosis I took Nat back to his childhood. All quite in order; butterflies and sunrays particularly prominent. A beautiful memory was retrieved: once, he stuck out his tongue and saw tiny, brightly coloured people dancing in a circle upon it. Fear of school, sibling rivalry. All natural events.
After this, Nat began cutting out. He refused to let go. He was not, however, anal-retentive. His mother, who gladly parted with this information, had wisely allowed her children to learn bowel control at a natural rate, and they had matured faster and more happily because of this. He spent more and more time in the hypnotism sessions veering towards the fully conscious state. I let him know in no uncertain terms how infuriating I found this. It seems pointless to continue.