I shook my head.
“Our bodies regulate themselves with a series of chemical releases throughout the day. Adrenaline wakes us up, gives us that jolt of energy. When the sun goes down, when we lay down to sleep, our body does the opposite by releasing a hormone called melatonin. Melatonin causes us to feel drowsy, prepares our bodies to shut down. As we enter a sleep state, when we’re right at the edge, we sometimes experience a muscle twitch called a ‘hypnagogic jerk,’ which feels like falling to the nearly unconscious mind. It usually feels like it jolts us awake, but immediately after we drop off. When a person is hypnotized, we try to get them to that point, to the sweet spot either right before or right after the hypnagogic jerk. That’s when the door between our conscious and subconscious mind is open widest. When we try to recapture memories through hypnosis, we’re peeking through that door. It’s believed our minds don’t really forget anything. Memories are just stored in different ways, some deeper than others either because our brain considers them to be unimportant, or because they’re traumatic. In your case, if you were really there when the accident occurred and the moments you’ve been dreaming about really took place, we should be able to access those memories, regardless of why they were repressed.”
She finished my coffee and set the empty cup on the table next to her bed. “Of course, your mind might have repressed these memories because they’re unbelievably horrible, possibly even damaging if recalled. If we do this, there won’t be any turning back. Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“Okay, then.”
“Here, take this.” Kaylie handed me a small, white pill.
“What is it?”
“Just a Valium. You need something to help you relax. You’re a bundle of nerves right now. This won’t work if you don’t calm down.”
I swallowed the chalky pill dry.
She straightened the quilt on her bed and told me to lie down, then rummaged through a drawer under the Kenwood receiver atop her dresser. She produced a microcassette recorder. “I’m gonna tape this. Is that okay?”
I nodded.
She handed me a pair of over-the-ear Bose headphones, plugged them into the receiver, and told me to put them on. They must have had some type of noise-canceling feature built in, because when she spoke again, her voice sounded distant, as if shouted over a long distance. I could no longer hear voices in the hallway or the adjoining dorm rooms. She told me to close my eyes, and I did.
She switched off the lights, and the pink behind my eyelids went black.
There was an electronic hum as she turned on the receiver. A steady click filled my ears, a recording of a metronome.
Tick…tock.
Tick…tock.
Tick…tock.
“Okay, Jack, I want you to listen to the rhythm of that sound, like a comforting heartbeat. Breathe in through your mouth, out through your nose, let your breathing fall in time with the sound. It’s all about the sound, that comforting sound. A heartbeat. Visualize a heartbeat, that sound. The rush of your blood, the life flowing through every inch of your body. Warm and comforting. My voice brings you deeper, faster and deeper, faster and deeper in a warm, calm, peaceful state of relaxation. Like sinking deep down into a warm bath.”
Tick…tock.
Tick…tock.
“Sinking down and shutting down. Sinking down and shutting down. Sinking down and shutting down completely in the enveloping warmth,” she said from so far away. Repeating. “Warm and calm, a blanket, snug and—”
When my eyes opened, Kaylie had her back to me. She was on the phone. I pulled off the headphones.
“…not what I agreed to,” she said into the receiver.
“Kaylie?” I said. My throat was dry.
She turned then, her eyes wide. Kaylie hung up the phone.
I sat up slowly on the bed, my arms and legs heavy, as if waking from a deep sleep. I didn’t remember sleeping, though.
The window behind the towel was dark. But that couldn’t be right. It was only around noon when we started. “Who were you talking to?”
An odd flavor lingered in my mouth for a second, then was gone.
Chocolate milk?
“Did it work?”
