CHAPTER 3: The Book On Hypnosis
Edmund shows Lorraine the artistic rooms on the fifth floor, luckily the last floor, as it was almost time for dinner, I assumed, when my stomach rumbled. I glance down at the card in my hand. Strangely enough, there's a small, circular object I feel through the card, but flipping it over in my hand, I don't visibly see anything on the back. Just a plain shade of white.
"Was he right?" I hear from beside me before a finger flicks on the card, long and slender. Edmund stands next to me as he sees what I'm looking at.
I keep my eyebrows furrowed, "Which part?"
He turns to me, "About not sharing your thoughts, feelings, or secrets because you're afraid someone will use them against you?" He questions stoically, but couldn't be blank enough to show me that he was interested to know.
I blink, "No, I still think he's a con artist." I mutter, looking back down at the card with a constricted feeling. I could have just been paranoid. Instead of crossing my thoughts with the card, I throw it in the bin, stepping past Edmund and towards Lorraine.
She nods at me, "All classes are seriously full. There doesn't even look to be time for personal questions, just consistently working and writing. Remind me why I love business so much again?" She says to me dryly.
I lean on the doorframe, "Because it can open so many doors, Lorraine. That's why." I murmur, glancing through the door to see how full the class was. There was still a fairly large proportion of the empty lecture room, but the majority was filled, condensed instead of packaged in groups of individuals.
Lorraine turns to Edmund, who was standing patiently behind us...patiently-didn't seem like a word in his vocabulary, not even in his metaphorical thesaurus. The man didn't have a patient bone in his body, "Is there much group work?" She asks curiously.
I don't see his reaction, but hear it, "The majority of the work collated here is individual, but some tasks can be endured with a partner or two."
I furrow my eyebrows, "In a workplace, most of the time endured is within a group? That doesn't make sense if the training here is specialized under individual conditions?" I turn to him, confused.
He gives me half-closed eyes, a glare I see, but this one is more exhausting than annoyed, "They train you to be entrepreneurs, CEOs, the highest in the hierarchical management structure. They want you to strive for the best. It's not hard to work out the pattern of conversing with a group at a later time." He says considerably.
I squint at him, "CEO's still converse with their main managers, and they shouldn't be restricted to only speaking with those who could equalize them in the system...that's a rather barbaric way of learning?"
Now, he gives me a deadpan look, "Do you ever stop analyzing every detail? If it's the way the system is and it works, why change it?" Lorraine even looks skeptical of this.
"Every system always looks for improvement and...it's in my blood...to analyze." I gesture to the classroom. He merely rolls his eyes.
"You have one classroom left. Then we can be finished here." He mutters, annoyance seeping back in. He didn't like what I was suggesting, especially because he runs an oil enterprise or some. Being told that any system, all systems, will always require improvement is like a slap in the face for someone who believes routine works for everyone, he is now slowly coming to terms with the fact that not all his employees will run successfully under one pattern.
One rule.
What a pitiful life to live in!
Lorraine shrugs my way when she sees my pointless expression directed to the now rather silent Edmund, who walks gruffly down the darkened hall. The lighting in the room was all the same, white light...it was giving me a headache when there were lights uselessly placed on the ceiling.
He shows us the last study room, "This is mainly for second years and up, but it's good for you to know where it is for next year." He mutters, gesturing inside the quiet room where I see only a few students with laptop screens open. I glance towards the books just as the door is closed by Edmund.
"Good, do either of you have any last questions?" He looks to Lorraine first before turning to me. I flick my eyes back up to him, shaking my head once and silently. Lorraine sighs in defeat.
"You haven't shown us where Professor Forthright's office is. Just so we don't get lost when we're scheduled for one of those...compulsory sessions are?" I close my eyes in annoyance. Lorraine gives me a raised eyebrow as Edmund narrows his eyes my way. I don't give anything away in my features.
I turn to Lorraine, "We can find it on the school map another time, Lorraine." I murmur, turning away. I was merely ready to eat dinner and sort out my schedule before bed, but Edmund seemed to have a change of heart when he said behind me,
"Lemon, he has two offices. One on the first floor and another on the third floor. The map requires an update." He says blankly as he walks past me and takes the lead. His dark coat flows around his lower legs behind him. Like a lurking shadow, he walked soundlessly yet still. An echoing effect entered the atmosphere.
I roll my eyes at his need for the theatrics while Lorraine jogs to catch up; I don't bother, considering he chooses to take the stairs. He showed us the door of the one on the third floor, only to see the light off, and instead, he rotated back towards the stairs, where we had stepped down two more flights to the first floor.
He steps down the last step before nodding to someone on the left side; we move around him as I watch Iris step forward, "Are you almost finished with their tour? We're headed to dinner." She says to him, not bothering to glance at Lorraine or me.
So polite.
I think one of them, Erik, hands him another folder, "It's what you missed in Report Contracting." He says with a nod, glancing over at me briefly before looking away. He must have known me then. Edmund nods in gratitude.
Before turning to me, "You know what? Your attitude this morning dampened my mood. Professor Forthright's office is down this hall and to your left. I am very much done giving you a tour, lemon. Lorraine, I wish you good luck." He says, shaking her hand. He gives me the dirtiest of looks before moving through the middle of his team members. Head held high and defiant. They follow him with leaning smirks.
Lyndon is the one who moves his sister forward as he says to me in a taunting whisper, "Getting on his bad side was your first wrong move. Good luck, junior." He says lowly before moving away, with Iris letting out a small giggle.
I blink twice, "Do you think they're taking this a little too far?" I ask Lorraine, who still has both her eyebrows, where she stands.
"Maybe. It's hard to tell. He gave you a nickname but said he's completely done with you. You were right when you said he was bipolar...I didn't know its legitimate extent until he showed his true colours." She explained that I had glared at her for a second before she brought her words back to the 'safe zone.
"I heard you wanted to see my office?"
Lorraine squeaks in fright as she snaps her head over to the lurking voice that I had a strange reading on when we first stepped down the stairs, I slowly turn towards Professor Forthright, who holds two sheets in his hands as he turns from Lorraine to me.
He draws his eyes to mine. He looks bizarrely mirthful, while mine narrow once again. He gestures to follow him with his paperwork, "My main office is just down this way. This place can be quite the maze. It won't do anyone good to get so lost early in the semester." He says over his shoulder. I was thankful he didn't slow down to walk beside me but stayed in front of me while Lorraine was on the other side, giggling lightly with a girly sigh.
"Professor Forthright, you scared me for a moment there." She says aloud.
He turns to her, feigning concern with a smile, "Oh, I'm so sorry, Lorraine. I hadn't meant to frighten you. You two focused on Edmund's rather harsh words than on me behind you. Melanie, how are you feeling?" He asks me, opening his office door and letting us in first.
I watch him from the corner of my eyes, "Just fine. Thanks." I mutter dryly as I look around his rather dark office, but the blinds were open, so we could see the natural setup of the room and the strange ornaments. I had expected live rats and dead brains. He only has pictures of the nervous system on the red wallpaper. Two black cabinets were positioned against the walls on either side of the desks. I heard the door close behind us.
I turn to him, "Would you happen to have our schedules? I'm required to fix my student log-in and could not retrieve it?" I ask, watching him closely as he snaps his eyes back up to my face from wherever else he was looking. I wasn't sure, but...I don't think I even wanted to know as he furrows his bushy eyebrows.
"Oh, I can print out both your schedules for you," He offers, moving over towards his curved desk, before he adds, "I can contact our IT manager to get your log-in sorted out before beginning your classes. You'll be getting many notifications from your classes regarding your assignments. I don't want you falling behind over a petty thing such as logging into the school website." He says, sitting down on his desk as Lorraine sits in front of his desk, on one of the chairs, looking at the many books on the shelves.
Before she asks, "Have you read all of these?" In casual conversation, I don't sit down but remain standing as I look around the office. Nothing seemed completely out of the ordinary.
He smiles to himself, "Yes, all at least twice. I find great relaxation in reading, whether it be about the science of the body or natural mental development in mind, I could read for hours without realizing it." He answers just as the printer starts and the sound filters the room.
He rotated around the desk, handing Lorraine hers, "Here you go, this is your timetable for the next four weeks. I have given you a schedule for your sessions with me. All first years are provided three sessions a month and...Melanie, here is yours," He whispers to me, handing me mine.
I look at the sheet, moving it from him and being careful not to touch him as I flick through the two sheets. I furrow my eyebrows, "My first session with you is this Friday evening." I say aloud, cautiously.
I hold the bloody urge to scowl as he nods profusely, fidgeting with his hands, "Yes, you will begin your first classes starting Tuesday, so...tomorrow and your last one Friday ends at six. The sessions with me normally last two or so hours, but because you're new, it will likely be shorter, unfortunately." He says. He takes another strong inhale, leaning towards me once more, I subtly lean away.
I see it as greatly fortunate. However, I would have preferred not to see him at all.
"Are there no female councilors? In case a particular student or students would prefer speaking to a female under private conditions?" I ask him. He blinks over at me, finally stepping aside, but not enough for my liking.
"Unfortunately, No, but I have found that many female students are comfortable enough with me to speak about such personal things such as hormones or more personal conditions that they find relaxation from within, but I cannot disclose any information as you know, the school cares deeply about student confidentiality." He explains that his eyes change for a moment when he has given examples, darkening almost, before he unmasks his expression.
That's what I had observed; he had many moments where this professor would close his expression immediately when thinking deeply about something. Like the way the mind works and the way the body breathes.
I consider him, which brings out an interesting effect as he smiles at me, thinking I have another question he could answer: "Do you use hypnosis as a relaxing technique?" I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, "I have in the past when students are unaware they struggle with nightmare disorders, but there are many different types of therapy I supply that allow the diagnosis of these students to vary."
I look at him, confused, "I apologize. I don't quite get what you mean?"
He goes to open his mouth, stepping forward to explain, but Lorraine cuts him off and asks, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but this schedule is Melanie's as well. I think you printed hers twice by accident." She says, showing him the script. He masks his features once again and takes a look.
"Oh dear, silly me. I apologize, Lorraine. I could have sworn I selected yours to be printed as well. I'll get right on to that. Here, you can look at the books just before you, basic relaxation techniques and such...anyway, Melanie, where was I?" He had hurriedly turned back to me, basically handing Lorraine a random rose-gold book from his shelf. She was already interested in that one, so she didn't catch his change of manner when he turned back to me.
He moves to offer the chair for me before taking a seat himself in front of me, the two chairs in front of his desk. He smiles at me, "What was I saying?" He says in thought.
I blink, "The different approaches besides hypnosis as a means of relaxation." I say. He looks down at my lips before pointing at me,
"Yes. I have also used Behavioural therapy and lucid dreaming therapy, specific to nightmares. Would you say you have any re-occurring nightmares, perhaps from when you were a child?" He asks me, leaning over the desk to grab paper and pen.
"You're writing this down?" I ask, pointing at the script as he sets up some sort of grid.
He chuckles lightly, "This is just background information. All students go through with it at the beginning of my sessions. Listing all your stresses is the first step before pinpointing the ones that carry the most weight. My questions will get personal. I just want to reassure you that whatever question I do ask you, you are allowed to pass the question if you believe it may be too personal but, as you will see in the future, the more sessions we have, the more open you'll be in allowing me to look into your head and pinpoint those problems." He explains, finishing off the grid as Lorraine sits on the couches and seems to be in her world as she reads the novel he gave her.
I look at her skeptically before turning back to him when he gets comfortable in his seat, "Alright, let's begin. When you first wake up, what are the three things you absolutely must do?" He asks me.
That sounded like a safe enough question, but I pressed a few buttons on my phone to record it in my pocket. He doesn't even notice as he intertwines his fingers in front of me and watches, waiting.
I tilt my head as if in thought, "Ah...alright, I brush my teeth, make a cup of tea and check my phone." I list from the top of my head. He wrote this down but spoke directly after I had finished speaking.
"Good. Do you find you always check your phone in the morning?" He asks. I merely nod.
"What would you do if you didn't check your phone in the morning?" He asks next.
I furrow my eyebrows, "Are you asking if this is a habit of mine or that there might be a problem with checking my phone every morning? Most of the time, it's just checking for the time.
He writes this down and says, "So, it's not often you'll check your phone for notifications, social media, meetings on specific dates and times?" He asks next.
"Not within the first three things in the morning, no," I answer vaguely.
He nods, "Alright. Let's use a scenario where you forget to check your phone in the morning. Would you feel out of place, rather disoriented, or would this not bother you? We're speaking hypothetically if you have not once done this before." He says to me.
I look up in thought, "Truthfully, I may feel delicately stressed if I weren't to check my phone, regarding notifications for school and teachings, not for social media, no."
"Do you not have any social media accounts? Facebook? Snapchat? Twitter? Instagram-is that what you all use nowadays?" He asks. I shake my head, and he furrows his eyebrows.
"Did you just not want any of these accounts, or does this have a deeper meaning where you don't want to be followed or looked at by the public?" He asks.
My eye twitches, he begins writing something down, and I hold a smile. I can purposefully twitch my eyes or make a facial expression opposite to what I think, but it's testing him, specifically.
"No, I just don't use social media. I don't have the time for it." I mutter.
He nods, "Alright, would you call yourself a sociable or an unsociable person?"
"Both are equalized." He writes this down.
"Let's discuss what happened this morning with Mr. Edmund Creed...was this your first meeting with him?" He asks, looking up at me as he rearranged himself on the seat.
I blink, "Yes, it was." I glance over at Lorraine, who seems to be leaning on the plush red pillows, still reading. What the hell was in that book?
"Did you feel there was chemistry between the two of you?" Is his next question, which snaps my head back to his.
"No. You believe in anger being ignited from certainly relatable sparks between two people?" I ask. He grips his pen tighter but subtly.
"Acts of anger have involved close relations between two people. It's not unmissable of the flare Edmund had for you this morning." He murmurs, placing one hand on the side of his head, analyzing my features as he awaits my answer.
"I'm not looking for a relationship, Professor Forthright, and my focus is on my degree," I explain to him professionally. Not understand where he's going with this.
He nods once, "Yes, that is understandable. Especially in our community, not many relationships enlarge. Most of it is more physical than anything else. You don't have to want a relationship to know there is chemistry between one another. I'll just ask you one more question before we continue the session on Friday. Is that alright?" He asks me, closing the pen lid and sitting up in his seat.
I gesture he continues with the wave of my hand. He nods, before opening his mouth, "Would you openly disclose personal information of your feelings towards your surroundings? Would you accept that they do certainly interact with how your mind thinks and how your body moves with added stress? The exhaustion, the anxiety. Do you believe our surroundings certainly coincide with the development of our thoughts, feelings, and emotions?" He asks at least a dozen bloody questions in that paragraph.
I ask him, ' could I care less about this?'
"I suppose."
He nods, standing from his seat as he places the folder on his table, "That's progress. We'll pick up where we left off here on Friday. Will that be alright?" He asks, moving towards his monitor on the table before I believe he's reprinting Lorraine's schedule. I step over to her, grabbing the book from her hands.
Did he give her a fucking self-hypnosis book?
I give him a strange glance. Just as Lorraine snaps back into reality, she looks around, her head in the clouds, "How did I get on the couch?" I blink at her, closing the book. I memorized the author as I hand it back to Professor Forthright.
"You gave her a hypnosis book?" I question, thinking this couldn't possibly be allowed.
He nods, "This book is used in all first years to see how long it takes before one is under full hypnosis, but each stage is recorded. It's completely harmless. It just puts the subject into another state of calm and serenity, with mere words. It's a rather powerful piece, but you won't need to read this one, Melanie. When the time comes, and you may like to try hypnosis, it'll be me speaking to you and putting your mind into a calm state when you feel you may need it most." He says to me, stapling Lorraine's pages together but looking directly into my eyes, something swirling in his.
I grab my schedule and help Lorraine stand, "Should I feel hungry?" She asks aloud.
I furrow my eyebrows more, "We haven't had dinner yet. I would assume so."
"I'm probably just going to head to bed. That mattress has been calling me all day...ah, is that my schedule, Professor? Thank you." She says, stepping towards the sheets. I ignore the fact he's looking at me as he hands them to her.
"We best take our leave. Thank you, Professor." I say, grabbing Lorraine's arm and moving her towards the door, where I go to open it, only to find it's locked.
What the hell?
I glance over my shoulder as he presses a button under his desk, "Sorry about that, it has a sensor where it naturally locks. I still have yet to fix that setting. It should be unlocked now." He says, moving behind his desk. I open the door, thankfully.
"Please, enjoy your evening, Lorraine...Melanie." He says politely. I raise an eyebrow, not answering, while Lorraine thanks him, and we both step out. I check the time to be nine in the evening. We were in there for an hour and a half, and dinner is likely to have already been served a while ago.
Lorraine rubs her eyes, "How did I get so damn tired?"
I facepalm, literally, "You hypnotized yourself."
"-the fuck?"