I’ve been interested in hypnosis since 2003, when I started having dreams about it being used on me. I’ve been having dreams since then about this. Here is a little character diary entry from someone who has been traumatized by the overuse of brainwashing techniques and shock hypnosis (or stage hypnosis).
I’ve been remembering so much. Every time she comes up to me, she pushes me on the back, in a particular spot. Every time. And every time I freeze. I don’t know for how long, but things have definitely changed by the time I can recover, and what happens to me during the time I am frozen? I wake up- my pants are pulled down. I am in a public place. How did this happen? What else has happened?
I’m remembering being coached on the phone. “When you open the door, you’ll see someone you care about, someone you trust.” Is this how she masked her face and voice from me, for so many years? The criminal investigations which all relied on me as witness, and I told them the truth- I saw people at my doorstep that could not have physically been there, and I never saw Evelyn. I never saw her- only a few times, only when she screwed up and used the wrong information to try to program me, and those mistakes are the only reason I am alive, and able to remember.
“When you pass through a doorway, you will forget everything that happened since you first heard my voice.” And after the man was hit with a brick and lay bleeding on the sidewalk, after a baby was maimed and I had to listen on the phone, I wanted to call for help- I did not have a working phone and I needed to go elsewhere, so I tried going to work, to my laboratory where I could use the phone. And I passed through a doorway, each time, and I could not remember anything immediately after. I stood in front of the phone, looking at it, panicking. What had I been about to do? Who was I calling? Why?
It took me ever so long to dredge up the pieces of these crimes from my subconscious, because, like all criminals, Evelyn makes mistakes- she made enough mistakes, and I finally had enough data, that I could piece together all the parts of the puzzles I had been left with.
“I’ll leave you alone, but you have to tell me my name.”
Guess what? I know your name, Evelyn. I know your full name.
I remember one night in Riverside, CA- I was at my friend Maggie’s apartment, and you looked like her to me, and left leaving the door wide open, with a pile of designer bags. And you made me watch a show on the television, and I did not understand why you wanted me to see it- but I watched, and I know the show’s name and I know the face and voice and name of the man on the screen. And maybe you programmed me further- to fail to be able to see or hear him, perhaps, maybe something else. I don’t know, because I remembered all of this now in the context of what I know, and when I looked up his image online, I also saw yours.
I saw you. And I saw your name.
I know your actual face. I’ve known for some time. And when the time is right and I have been able to confirm my suspicions, I will say your full name. Only this time, not just to you.
To the world.