Dark Mind

(Rolling)

The following is a transcript from client “X’s” first and only hypnotized session, which was meant to act as a catalyst to reveal these dark and emotional trauma’s he had been suffering for months.

He had been experiencing light symptoms of dread that manifested itself as ulcers, which doctors treated as any other physicians would.

My professional opinion, they weren’t ulcers, but violent reactions to a presence eating him from the inside out.

All I could do was listen, and pray, that this evaluation would let me in to his beautifully dark mind.

(Tape begins)

“Okay ****, just like we practiced. Breathe, externalize your internal, and let me in.”

(Heavy breathing)

“Relax, deep psychosis, transient imagery. Remember, you’re not alone. You’re in a space. What do you see?”

(Slow exhale)

It’s not a place.

“What exactly is it then?”

A void. Not land, not space. A black hole. A halfway point to something wicked but I don’t recognize people, faces, or things.

“You must recognize something.”

No.

“Open your minds eye. Tell me what you see.”

(Light tremors)

There’s nothing.

“Focus ****, you need to progress or this entire session will be a waste.”

Shut the door, twinkle in the sky, I see nothing but mirrored faces, and a broken life savings.

“****?”

Can’t, dance, with this lance, or we won’t get the chance.

“****, you have to listen to me. You’re falling too far into your dream space. You have to come back.”

You, who, knew, Sue, won’t, know, the proper, prose, to whisk her, worries away.

“****, come back to me”

Gin, sin, where does it all begin? Until you’ve see what you made, we won’t be able to fix it.

(Slap)

It’s all familiar.

Flashing lights and carnival sounds are all around, but there isn’t any sound.

I walk to the entrance of a funhouse.

I'm bombarded with maniacal laughing.

It isn’t from a clown.

It’s my own.

I’m riding solo in the funhouse cart.

Incredible fear takes over.

I’ve arrived.

The cart stops so I get out.

I’m walking down a corridor of many mirrors.

Some make me look old, others make me dead.

The place is shaking like an earthquake has taken over the building.

Dangling punching bags meant for fun block me in.

I'm entangled in the large weights.

They keep knocking me back and forth.

It hurts!

My body is being violated.

I'm closing my eyes hoping the loud carnival music and laughing will stop.

"Open them back up. What do you see now?"

In front of me is a small door.

"Open it."

No.

"Just like we discussed"


It...it leads to an infinite number of other little doors.

It's nothing but an old parlor trick meant to keep me busy.

"Busy from what?"

It knows I refuse.

The house will not be ignored.

The floor is shifting, pulling me backwards, and then frontwards like a retarded treadmill bent on revenge.

I’m running, sweating, working, pulling, moving, shaking, trying, dying.

My hairs rapidly growing, my eyes are starting to fade, the house is folding around me into a giant rubix cube.

The panels bright colors are stained with black blood.

It knows, I'm here.

The cube is closing.

It's locking me in.

(Pause)

"****, you're bleeding"

That's all it wants.

"It's time to wake up, you here me? Open your eyes."

They are.

"Your earthly eyes, not your minds."

There is no difference in the void.

Once you've stepped into the box, both are sewn shut.

It's the point of no return.


END OF TAPE