SUN JUN 1

I have just completed a long-winded, tedious regression session with Nat. He kept giggling during the relaxation stage, especially when tightening and releasing the muscles in his buttocks. I tried to ignore such childish jests and sniggers, saying it was okay to laugh and the more he laughed the more he would become relaxed. To my amazement, this worked. Actually, he became so relaxed that it seemed a shame to take him back to more troubled times. Indeed, only after considerable hectoring did he assume the foetal position. He emitted no screams, merely whiffled and whined and, aside from a panic attack familiar from the last two sessions, there was no violence. Most of the time was spent with his body splayed out in total abandon, with just his right hand “conscious” making the spidery movements which he still insists on calling writing, although he cannot discern the text. He was mildly elated after the session, having experienced euphoria and a more permanent sense of well-being during it. Sadly this was not evident from the outside, for Nat was not displaying any easy-to-interpret signals.

I drove Nat home. In the car he speculated on what he had been “writing”. Most of it, as far as he could tell, was the “literary equivalent of gibberish”. Occasionally he gained an insight into what he was writing and he felt it to be terribly profound.

MON JUN 2

I saw Nat today. The usual routine. I checked he was all right in the wake of another hour of regression. He seems very bored by the whole affair now. I persisted in discussing the matter with him, because I think it is important. I suggested that he had been scared in his cradle, which would account for his panic attacks in recent sessions. This shred of theoretical information stimulated his imagination. However, I find the idea much more mundane: any number of things could have frightened the infant Nat, so intrinsically weird is the house where he was born and still lives. I stressed that both events, the “bad birth” and the possible disturbance in early infancy, actually happened nearly twenty years ago.

Perhaps, I suggested, he should take a broader perspective and not allow them so much influence over his present state of being, recognition of the problem being half the cure. Nat heard me out but I could tell that he was trying to espy in his mind’s eye just what exactly had scared him in his cradle.

WED JUN 4

I have sufficient confidence in Nat to leave him for two weeks whilst I take my holiday.

THU JUN 5

I sent Nat a postcard. Told him to be good.

WED JUN 18

I arrived home to find that Nat had returned my compliment: he had sent me a postcard, in a perfect act of sarcasm, of Black Langley. He had even scrawled a greeting and message about the weather using the self same shade of purple felt pen that I favour!