333 That Saturday Girl

Well, yes, I have always been a daydreamer. Ever since I was a little girl.

Away with the fairies again, they used to say about me; but I was just simply always looking for a way to escape the greyness of my childhood.

In my daydreams, I could be whatever I wanted, and feel, however, I needed to feel. Mummy and Daddy, aunties and uncles always told me, I would never amount to much if I didn’t take my head out of the clouds and focus.

But trust me, I was focused. I knew every beating pulse of every one of my desires. And I truly believe now that each little intricately played out fantasy in my mind, was another stepping stone to gathering this power I have today.

Okay, so I wasn’t focused on the same world, everyone else seemed to be shackled to. But I was very focused on the myriad of visions I had created for myself, which in turn made for very bright, loud and powerful campaigns bouncing around my head 24/7.

Eventually, I would find a way to morph the imagined power and money into real life. Always did. I mapped out as I went along, not made up as I went along, but saw and felt and lived it in my soul way before it happened in reality, because I wasn’t just a plan, you could write down with bullet points and scribbles. How boring would that be?

So in truth, there was never a plan in place that I could look back on and think, yes, I got exactly where I wanted to be, doing just what I planned. Because I didn’t know where I wanted to be, or what I wanted to achieve, let alone how it would happen. I just did it.

And I’m thinking now that if I really had to analyse this universe of mine, then all I can see when I look back and reflect on my pathway so far, is a series of dreams I once had, that all came true, and lived happily alongside each other.

But are now real life because I told them to be real. In fact, I feel a deja vu a lot more than most, I guess, as everything I do always feels as if I have been there and done before. In essence, this may be the case though never physically – just in my dreams.

I can also weirdly enough, see links between all those dreams from beginning to end. Even if they don’t make sense to anyone else. I can see how naive and simple and blushingly young my dreams were when I was first setting out.

But then I can also now clearly see them progress – dream by dream, to the me I am today. I truly believe this happens because I live in the moment.

And when I daydream and feel I am in my dreams already, then it’s natural for my peaceful mind to be open to new suggestions. And this is the key moment in the process, which always tells me what to do next. Some might call it God answering prayers, or some other variation of a higher power. I just think it’s my moment, taking my soul on to the next step forward. And I continue without hesitation to trust my soul, to lead me wisely and successfully, because it has never let me down.

Before all this self discovery, though, I was the world’s worst procrastinator and had to put in all kinds of daily reminders and safeguards to get me going, to get me started on some small path forward to achieving whatever my job was. It didn’t have to be a huge dramatic situation I needed to handle, it could have just been to iron my top. But even for something so simple, I needed it spelling out, I had to find a starting point, then an ending point, and then the steps in between so I could start to achieve.

Yeah, I was that bad. Daydreams fixed all this, for me anyway, my natural healer, just putting me in that place so I could feel and sense how much I wanted whatever the dream was offering me, and how it was my own mind guiding me relaxed, yet productive.

And because dreams are so real to me, when my head is in the cloud flying away with the fairies, I can really feel every shiver and tingle within them. And it stays in my physique and soul. And anytime I want to replicate those shivers and tingles, I can just take myself back into that daydream and feel it all again.

It makes you want more. It’s a drug, that a drug, could never get close to. And then as well as all the shivers and tingles and natural highs making my head spin and the resulting success created with a dream and morphed into reality repeats itself over and over again as your soul takes you by the head, merging each dream into a new reality. And it works perfectly for me. And my like minded lab rats may I add.

The very first really important daydream that really thrust me into a big world of opportunity, although I didn’t know it at the time, was when I was 15 or 16, and working Saturdays in a local office block as a receptionist, stroke cleaners, stroke wafer thin security guard.

Well, I say it was an office block. It was a really big old Victorian house converted into smaller offices for rent, very tall ceilings and doors. Very few rules. Pretty much set up for those whose businesses fly by night. I just got paid for a few hours Saturday morning to answer the phones on behalf of the tenants and cleaned around a bit.

But it was always dead and took no effort at all. In fact, I always suspected something wasn’t quite as it seemed with this Enterprise Centre, as no one ever appeared to use the offices. Even walking past during the week it looked like it might appeal to squatters more than Wall Street wannabes. Well, except the hypnotist in room three – Billy.

The manager at the place called Billy the Dark Lord, as a bit of a joke. But mainly he said, the hypnotist was a bit dark around the edges. He always said he couldn’t put his finger on it. But there was something mysterious about Billy, and that it was probably best to avoid him.

But that just intrigued me even further. And I not only failed to avoid him, but I actively and resourcefully went out of my way at every opportunity to be super nosy. I mean, over time, I managed to get myself in a position of doing odd jobs for him if he might drop in on a Saturday. Or he might leave a note for me to do something. And he would be extra patient with my head in the clouds as I asked what were probably the most insane questions to such a learned man of the mind. Well in any way. It’s funny how big the gap can be between your preconceived images of people and how they are stripped bare.

His office was small, like a medium sized bedroom, I guess. And it was quite simple and clean. No clever decor, just a desk and posh chair like I imagined the chief pirate to have in his office on the pirate ship, the ex-captain’s chair after he had been made to walk the plank – no idea where that image came from. And then a cool little couch and matching armchair. IKEA style, if you can imagine, but it was cosy. Oh, and there was like an old oak wardrobe your Nan would have in the spare room. He just kept stationery supplies in there mainly and a few rows of external hard drives with training video clips on them. Years and years of recordings to study and evaluate in his never ending thirst to cure the ills of the mind. 

I never did clarify with him what was the ethicality of recording clients under hypnosis without their consent? Maybe best not to know. Anyway, I watched a load of these over the next couple of years. Well, it was always so quiet on a Saturday in that building. And as all the bins I had emptied on the first day of my job still had nothing in them, when I had some time to kill, or use wisely in my newfound education, I’d flip it to convince myself. 

So armed with the offices bunch of skeleton keys and a coke and a chocolate bar from the vending machine in reception. I would settle in office three. My Own Private cinema showing off Linda’s guilt at shoplifting or marks tiny penis but fails to grow now, and trust me, I made it my business after seeing these research clips to find out just where there’s Linda and Mark hailed from and check out their backstories and get a good old fashioned nose into their world.

Again, I never did clarify with the Dark Lord about any human rights or data protection safeguarding client confidentiality issues with me doing this – even on non-legal recordings. You can see the edges of darkness starting to appear now, can’t you?

But I was curious. Maybe mystery shadows and darkness are the glittery things to me. Me the mother of magpies, and my nose won’t stop twitching until his curiosity is petted.

I always assumed wrongly that to the hypnotist I was probably fairly annoying. This little squeaky girl following him around asking excitedly her most important questions, when he always seemed to be busy in one direction or another. But to be honest, he never made me feel in his way.

In the clear light of day I had no right to be there and certainly if my parents and family found out, they would have banned me from that place. He saw I was there. And that was that.

But there was an immediate connection between both of us, certainly and unsaid connection and never in a billion years a cringey cliche one, like the Big Brother I never had or long lost uncle. It was some form of a bonding. And it can be expressed by simply the raising of an eyebrow. 

‘I don’t have to give you my life story, you already get it.’ Slow raising of eyebrow.

‘I don’t have to explain why such and such is dark and dangerous, because you already know that’ – slow raising of eyebrow.

There was a lot that never needed explaining, but just got done. A way to get it done was found without drama, or instructions. And that was his curious edging of darkness, the little mystery all in the raising of an eyebrow.

Anyway, I asked a lot and answered a lot. And he saw that as a desire to need to know which of course it was no way. So he fed me with his thoughts which would probably be met with suspicious frowns and crazy eye rolling at his local bar. But it kind of made sense to me. And I am by no means as gullible as I am coming across here with my sneaky but well placed self depreciating humour. 

And it was always the hypnotism that attracted me. Not that I had ever shown an interest or had any childhood passion to join the circus as a hypnotist. But that kind of image was exactly all I thought I knew about hypnotists I guess when I first sneaked into his rented office I expected to find swinging gold chains and chicken outfits and hats with rabbits in. Well, I don’t know do I? But there was no show man here. No stage act and certainly no man straining for the spotlights.

‘What I do is away from the bright lights’ he told me ‘if you ever have a choice than always choose anonymity. Pure freedom you only get when you can move unnoticed.’ 

Hypnotism or learn from the doctor isn’t about shiny things and public humiliation. It will help you remember again, or forget forever, or stop being sad right now. And stop being happy with just one click of your fingers.

It was some time before it sank into my cloudy mind that the dark unregulated out of the lights hypnotist could not only help you stop smoking, but could also help you start. I mean, if he can help you, and he can more than easily help help you, then he can help you help you – help him or not. I know what I mean any-ways.

And if my thinking is right hit, and I’m more into this thing than ever right now, the choices he is opening up within you are the choices he has for you. Probably. 

Maybe, well more than probably, this doctor is no ordinary doctor, aside from the fact that he is not a qualified doctor at all. And never tried to qualify and not even once has ever referred to himself as a doctor. But I do call him doctor out of respect. You know for the fact that he should be the doctor of all doctors, of all dark and shiny doctors in my eyes. 

I got to thinking over time that the question should have been in whose interest is hypnotism? Not that I wanted a clean ethical answer. I was just figuring out what it could do for me. Help me – help you – help me. Is this hypnotism really like the Lord of saviours hand held out for you as you climb up the steps and out of the cold icy suffering which was adopted for you as a child and wrongly defined you?

Is it the same hand that lovingly holds you and guides you and takes you down the warm steamy, soapy appealing steps into a masked and carpeted incomprehensible suffering ahead of you? Because someone you didn’t truly question has adopted you and moulded the next definition of you, a cycle which will only continue until you break hands and define you, yourself, in line with the you living right now in this moment. Is the guiding hand just leading you from one drama to another to make sure you keep holding tight and stay safe under the control of your Saviour.

Probably. Is why you should just let go and hold your own hand. You know when that sound really cleanly hits the headphones and you just get drawn into a song? And it feels it was written for you – about you. But not because of the words they they drift over you. But the sharpness of the piano keys and its melody which in turn pulls in the melancholy voices and strings, and it makes you want to stand out and walk across the room and stare vacantly out of the window across the city lights at night, or walk with a scarf blown behind you along the windswept beach. 

A film clip on a piece of melody which becomes a soundtrack to your mood in that very moment. For me in this moment, it’s all about letting the music inside me. Let the music bounce from goose bump to goose bump across my body, and round and round my mind like the brave motorcyclists risking their life and limb racing the wheel of death. I just let it lead me. And it always does. Never just on the first hearing, but as it repeats itself over and over, and flashes through my empty eyes into the moment and space I stare into. 

I know that and at this point, the birth of my next moment is in creation. I start to picture what I know to be, and would wish for, and in front of me the Next Steps Open up. Is it biblical? Is that the clouds parting as the steps leading me through the white fog to Heaven’s Gate of happiness and contentment open one by one to my rightful place? Is it a vision of a righteous award? Is it f*!K – the steps go down, not up in my future. There’s no fog it’s – crystal clear. 

But I wouldn’t be honest, if I didn’t say that they were lonely moments, times that no one could understand the purpose of these kinds of moments. 

That’s why we need the world to have fake doctors, and needy broken drama queens, otherwise, no one would ever have that opportunity to find a context in each little scene, they play out.

That for once in their life, they would identify with someone who just raises an eyebrow, and lets you know they get it too –

‘Shush now, don’t say a word. We both know.’

And that for me, is it; right there ……..   the addiction to that high, the first moment your soul brushes another passing soul with a raised eyebrow. 

That you want that feeling over and over. 

Like a first shot of your drug or drink of choice.

That first amazing feeling before it goes wild west on you. 

Before you create a mess and you promise you’re never chasing that high again after waking up in the gutter hoping that it’s just mayonnaise on your lips.

Best bits only.

The more you chase a soul designed for you by this world you’re living in, the more your heart shreds each time it’s broken. And after time you’re hardened and empty. And the dreams you have for yourself are just watered down and you can only feel energized by a new energy feed. If you’re lucky enough to find one. 

Other people’s dreams to get into theirs and manipulate their outcomes? Maybe, maybe! But this new high never ends messy. 

The doctor – Billy, he inadvertently taught me these things, never an actual lesson. But sometimes he would clearly create a fake job in his rented office, like arranging his filing into a different system from last week, or filing envelopes with things that would need taking backup the following week. So I could earn a few pounds. And he had some company to sit around the metaphoric campfire and talk Doctor related things.

I was a good student. I lapped it all up and thought and tested and questioned each word. Well, actually -a student, I wasn’t. I know that now. But his footsteps were bigger and faster than mine. And I was determined to fill them one day, or at least my feet on top of his. 

Sometimes I would use my supercharged mischievous head in the fairy clouds imagination, to take the doctor through my scenarios with me, and scatter and sprinkle a billion what ifs over him, until he would stand up like I imagined Einstein did in a eureka moment- and declare to me what he believed to be the answer. 

Always made me laugh.

He was quite clearly taking the piss and playing to me as an audience at these times. I called this his dad joke mood. You have to laugh, even though you knew you shouldn’t. 

Look, I am making him out to be an eccentric and crusty, which he definitely wasn’t. He was a dark and dry. And his eyes whilst they shone hope and danger, they would hold me fixed with their edge of sarcasm.

That his eyes would be just another question mark you hit when you looked deep into him for some confirmation, or another. Is that his nature, technique? – or just eyes?

But the first time he put me into a trance was a super Wow. I mean to just trust somebody to do this to you to be able to go to trance and be manipulated in front of your own eyes is some experience. 

Of course to get him to do this I told him I was scared of something, and asked would he be able to relieve me of that fear? Of course he would. You know fear of spiders and flying all sorts. I caught myself on the hop with this particular conversation. I wasn’t fast enough with my thinking. And words couldn’t instantly suggest not one thing of billions of anything in the entire universe that I wasn’t afraid of. And so as always muddled my words and mumbled….

‘Oh I’m scared of smoking and no, wait I am trying to give up spiders.’  

But as always with the doctor, he smiled and reassured me, because behind his dark edges there was a kind heart, well kind within reason, and kind, within a certain price bracket.

‘Just relax I’ll get rid of all that useless bad stuff and I’ll give you some superpowers while you’re here’ he said like I was a three year old.

And to be honest, I heard it with my three year old ears, giggled and then….. gone. 

One second I was adjusting myself on a long comfy sofa as he instructed me to relax and be comfortable, and explained what he would be doing and the next I was on another planet, colours and comfort in all the sounds and images, and I could feel and taste my new…… right now.

My body and mind calm as my pleasures flashed before me. His voice feeling far away in the background was telling me to feel how good this feels, and to make it my soul.

And I did.

And this soulful feeling became at that very moment my high and I chase it every day and it opens more doors as I chase it.

And I hope I never catch it because what then?

Part 2 Follows with adult content.