Scenes From A Memory by confusedalarms . (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📖

The dream wasn’t going away on its own, I knew that much. So I looked around on the internet for a therapist in my neighborhood. Conveniently there was one located just outside the town where I live. ‘Baynes’ Hypnotherapy’ it was called. As soon as I heard that name I knew that that was the place to go. I have no idea why, but I just did. Their website stated that Mr. Baynes specialized in regression therapy, the kind where the therapist hypnotizes you and you can go back into your own memory. That sounded like just what I needed. The dream suggested that there were things in my memory that I’d somehow blocked out, things I’d forgotten. I wanted to know what they were. So I rang them up. A reception desk lady answered, speaking in that typically haughty and distant voice that seems to be the property of all reception desk ladies, the voice that tells you ‘I have better things to do than talking to you. Say what you need to say and fuck off.’ I always wondered why they used that voice. Shouldn’t they be friendly to a customer, especially at a therapist’s office, where the people who call to make an appointment obviously have some kind of emotional issue? Anyway, she said:

‘Baynes’ Hypnotherapy co., how may I help you?’
‘Hello, I’d like to make an appointment for a therapy session.’
‘Well, I’m sure that can be arranged. Your name?’
‘Nicholas. Nicholas Lifeson.’
‘All right, Mr. Lifeson, it looks like we have a spot open for an hour-long session next Monday at 3:00 pm. Would that be all right with you?’
‘That would be fine. I’ll see you then. Have a nice weekend.’
‘You too, Mr. Lifeson.’

Nothing else interesting happened that weekend, apart from me having the dream two more times. I was looking forward to a Monday for the first time in my life.

On Monday I awoke to a beautiful May morning, with rays of sunlight streaming in from the window, which looked out eastward. My spirits were high; I felt like I was about to be rid of the dream that plagued me so, like I was about to find out what it meant, like I was close to something great. My wife and son not so much; For them it was of course just another Monday morning. My son was preparing for his finals week, my wife had her job to get to. I sent them both on their way around eight o’clock, their stomachs full of healthy breakfast, and then the waiting began. I read the paper with some coffee, again not taking in much, and watched my Radiohead live DVD again. I often watch that when I have the place to myself. I’m a huge fan and find it very relaxing to read the paper and have Thom Yorke sing to me in the background.

Time passed and eventually it was two o’clock, time to go. I left the house and got in my car, an old beat-up Ford Escort. My wife had the more up-to-date car, a Focus. It was an hour-long drive to Baynes Hypnotherapy Co. I thought about the dream some more. The previous night it had gone on longer than ever, to the point where I could see the girl’s face clearly. I screamed to her: ‘Why am I here? Can’t you tell me?’ As her face became clear I saw she was looking at me, but not hearing me. Her eyes were green and full of sadness. Real sadness, not the kind little girls usually display, for instance when they fall and bruise their knee. This sadness went much deeper, it tore at her soul. Then she got up and walked out the door, and the dream ended.   

Publication Date: 12-02-2012

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