MON MAY 19

The sixth regression session with Nathaniel Snoxell. The foetal position was quickly assumed. His rictus was elongated almost to the point of jaw dislocation. Ghastly screams tapered off most unexpectedly into a mild sigh. Behaviours of the previous session were repeated: shunning my form with face distorted into an expression of utter panic; needing to express terror of the whole body which remained limp and inactive. Nat then felt very sad. I could not comfort him. He did not want to be held or hugged. It seems he cannot reach the point of tearful release of repressed sufferings from before and during birth: one of the most vital constituents of primal therapy. He skipped this phase entirely and went into a gentle repose with minimal finger movements that he later described as “writing”.

I am still baffled as to what actually caused the panic in the first place. I took Nat home. He was in a good mood. The session had lasted nearly an hour.

TUE MAY 20

I discussed with Nat the implications of last night’s work. He was fascinated by the display of raw fear, quite unlike anything that he has ever seen in film, fiction or art. Nat is gleeful that I have yet to come up with a suitable theory to match his behaviour.

He is persevering with the guitar. His younger brother is offering him musical advice but he only accepts perverse snatches of music theory. Tritones—the infamous “Devil’s Tone”—are a particular obsession. He retunes the guitar to his own desires. The neighbours don’t seem to mind this, but do take exception to the occasional wild vocal improvisations which are liberally sprinkled with screams.

TUE MAY 27

Nat has developed an intense fear of the dark. Most phobias are now generally reckoned to stem from a feeling of imminent death during birth. This fear, being too painful to recall in later life, latches itself onto something less significant but no less frightening. When patients are shown just how irrational their fears are (of spiders, open spaces, crowds etc. etc.), the fears often miraculously “vanish”. This therapy is in my opinion not wholly effective in that it fails to deal with the cause of the fear.

I attempted to treat Nat’s dread of the dark by this rationalising approach. It has had some effect. Nat now investigates any objects in his benighted bedroom which engender his terror. Once he is convinced that the objects are in order, the fear loses much of its ferocity. However, Nat’s house is so ghoulish that I am not entirely convinced that his fear is irrational. Ergo I have also advised him to turn out his concealed loft-tomb. This he was loath to do, but he seemed pleased that I had connected this with his fright.

SAT MAY 31

I am glad to say that the scars on Nat’s wrists are healing nicely. He is not, as he should be, ashamed of them, but contrariwise seems quite proud. This is not the pride of a battle-scarred war veteran, but a sort of wicked pride. I think it may well be time for some more therapy.