Chapter

       38

“Relax now, Charles. Let your thoughts carry you through to where things started to disturb you in New York.”

“Okay,” I said hesitantly.

“Drift, Charles. Drift back to that place where the changes began. Can you see it yet?”

“Yes.”

“Allow yourself to flow into that space. Make yourself comfortable there. Feel the air, the ground under your feet. Hear the sounds. See the images. Just let yourself travel.  Move in closer. Reach out. Are your images there now? Are you touching them?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell me about them. Tell me about the images.”

“His eyes are trusting. He trusts me. He knows I’m not going to stomp my foot or wash him away. He knows I respect him. He’s going away now. He’s got what he didn’t eat with him...perhaps for the others...the ones who ran.”

“Who is he, Charles?”

“He doesn’t have a name. He’s just a bug in the hotel. A large insect that comes out in the dark and hunts for what he needs...just what he needs, then he goes back.”

“Back to where, Charles?”

“Probably somewhere down deep.”

“What do you see when you think ‘somewhere down deep’?”

“A place where it’s safe.”

“Is it dark?”

“Yes.  Dark and safe.  That’s all I see.”

“You don’t want to talk about this place anymore?”

“No.”

“It’s safe, but you don’t want to talk about it anymore?”

“No.”

“Can you drift to another place?  Another place of changes?”

 “Can we stay there?”

“In the hotel?  Is that where you want to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Sure.  Tell me about the hotel.”

 “It’s later now. It’s dark. I can’t sleep. I can hear the sound in the next room, the hallway… but I don’t know what I’m hearing. Like the sound of hundreds of tiny needles pricking into paper. The occasional toilet being flushed, vibrating water pipes, elevator doors opening, the incessant droppings of cubes from the icemaker in the hall...I smell the steam rising from the street outside...lots of steam. It billows up past my window, helping to obscure the blinking neon sign with its incessant $20.00 nightly bargain. I’m very lucky.”

“Why are you feeling lucky?”

“Just lucky I’m still whole. I’m wobbly and my body feels about ready to melt...it’s hot and the thermostat probably needs a hit again. But I’m feeling lucky and I don’t want to lose it, so I’m looking and listening until I fall asleep...looking and listening to the changes around me, ‘til I fall asleep...sleep...”

“Do you sleep well?”

“Yes.”

“With all that disturbance, why did you sleep well Charles?”

“I wake up and I feel good. I just feel good.”

Mathews pauses, then.  Were there more changes that day?”

 “There are changes all day long...all night long...

“That’s all right, Charles.  We’ve got plenty of time.  Tell me all  about them.”

It wasn’t until I’d seen the familiar translucent light through my eyelids that I realized Mathews had opened the curtains and had been snapping his fingers for some time.

“Charles?” Mathews said in a more business-like tone than usual, “You feel okay now?”

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling a few moments.  “Where did I come from.  I don’t remember where you took me this time.”

“We’re been working for a solid hour.”

“Why don’t I remember?” I asked him.

“Charles, I want you to take a break, get something to eat, take a walk. Just relax and come back in an hour. I’ve got one appointment I’ve got to take, but I want you to come back. I want to see if with all the changes you’ve told me about during those three days in New York, they might help bring us closer to that cove or the office memories.”

I sat up and looked at him peering out his window.  “I don’t understand.”

“You made it through this trip,” he said as he turned and walked over to me. “I’m not sure, but it’s possible that the Charles Randall focus has never been stronger than it was those three days. I’ve given you a post-hypnotic suggestion to merge with the cove and the office memories. If it works, you may see much more of the details in those two incidents.” He looked at his watch and ushered me to the door. “This could be something...or nothing. See you in an hour.”

He had never given me any post-hypnotic suggestion before and having one now left me feeling a bit uneasy. I had no idea what he had in mind and once again, I didn’t feel in control. I walked around the beach area, ate a sandwich and thought about not going back.

What would the suggestion do if I didn’t go back and carry it out as he wanted? C’mon, I thought, you’re talking like IT is somebody else. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s Charlie. Maybe he’s got my head turned around to climb back in bed with Charlie. I didn’t want that. Would he do that to me? He’s a doctor. He wouldn’t do that to me...

“...would you?” I asked one hour later.

“Charles, I’m on your side, for God’s sake. I haven’t suggested you deal with anyone other than yourself. You’re convinced you’re a man named Charles Randall. That’s who we’re dealing with, okay?”

He walked over to the Bonwit bag again and held it up. “You’ve got to be aware of what’s happening, though. You’ve repressed any thoughts of him, Charlie, deep inside you. It’s possible he’s buried somewhere under all the changes you feel. Neither you or I can fully control when the thoughts might come forward again.”

He dropped the bag in the trashcan. “We can do everything possible to prevent it though...can’t we?”

“Are you telling me it’s okay to keep Charlie away? Okay to leave him with other people...forget him?”

“You’re the driver, Charles,” he said.  “I’m just helping to navigate.

That’s how the “different” kind of session started. He cautioned me that he would be guiding me through a different kind of “terrain,” as he called it. I was to discover another word for it.

As he worked me backwards, drifting me closer and closer to that first day, I kept seeing the rushing divider lines of a highway as if my head were tilted down, resting against something that kept it at a steady angle...the view from a bike...probably the Harley.

‘Is that what you feel?  Is it the vibration of a bike…the Harley?”

“I’m not sure.  My back is cushioned and… my front is pressed against…”

“Yes, Charles.  Don’t lose it...pressed against what? The wind? Are you carrying something in front of you on the bike? Look closely.”

“The lines are passing faster now...no more broken lines...just one straight yellow one.  My back is... “

“Let your back relax, Charles. Lean back further and feel what it is that’s cushioning your back. Is someone riding on the back of the Harley? Press back, Charles. Press back.”

My armpits were the first to tell me this was a different kind of “terrain” as he called it. I could feel the trickle of fear running from my arm down and seeping through my shirt as I laid there on the couch. The heat rose off my chest, my forehead, melting my resistance to this new and frightening darkness, only illuminated by the yellow line, the endless yellow line.

“Are you pressing back,” Mathews repeated. “Charles, are you hearing me?”

“Yes!” I found myself yelling, “Yes! Can you hear me? You probably can’t...the wind just swallows everything up at this speed.”

“How fast are you going, Charles?”

“What?”

Mathews raised his voice, but I still couldn’t hear him. “How fast. How fast are you traveling?”

“Why are you asking me? I don’t know.”

“Why can’t you just look at the speedometer and tell me.”

 “What?” I can’t hear you!”

“Look up at the speedometer... how fast?”

The yellow line turned into a double yellow line. The highway was getting narrower. “I’m trying to raise my head, but it’s as if the bike is driving itself. My head’s tucked down, following the double yellow line that’s starting to be obscured by the fog rolling across the road...dense fog...getting thicker...I’m losing the lines.”

“Charles, don’t lose the yellow lines. Don’t look up now...just let the yellow lines take you where you’re going...Charles?”

“Just fog...nothing but fog. Where is everything?”

“Have you lost the yellow lines, Charles? Charles, can you hear me?”

I could hear him, but my ears were trying to block him out so I could hear through the fog...water...a shoreline?... “Water...there’s water somewhere. I’m around water.”

“Is it the cove, Charles?”

“The cove...I don’t know...just the lapping of water against a shore.”

“Is it the lake...the lake in Central Park?”

My brain felt like it had just been ripped from its axis, one side colliding with the other, like an earthquake shift of land mass, screeching, scraping rock against rock, mass against mass...it hurt...my head was twisting away from itself... “God...I don’t want the lake...I don’t want the lake... “

“It’s okay, Charles. Take yourself down deep into that safe place, that dark safe place you told me about... “

“Down with him?” I whimpered. “I can go down with him?”

“Where are you? Where are you, Charles? Charles, tell me where you are.”

“I’m at the little windows...looking down through the little windows in the sink. He’s just below... his eyes trust me...I didn’t stomp my foot. He’ll let me come... It’s all right? It’s all right to go?”

“If that’s where you feel safe...go. Go there now.”

As I looked down into the darkness around the creature, I could still see his trusting eyes reflecting from the light bulb above my head, “Will you come with me? Will you come into the dark with me, Doctor?”

“Why do you want me, Charles? Didn’t you say it was where you felt safe?”

“Yes, but...I might get lost.”

“I’m here...you won’t get lost. But I think it’s better you go with him alone. Just the two of you. He trusts you. He doesn’t know me, you know?”

“Okay... Okay. Maybe you’re right. He might think you’re that aggressive bellman. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Charles...this is just a hypnotic regression, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You can come back up out of the darkness anytime you want, okay?”

“Sure. I understand. He’s leaving me now, though. I’ve got to go.”

“Charles...who am I? What’s my name, Charles?”

“You’re my doctor...” Suddenly the fog was there again...the yellow lines were curling to the right...a turn...the fog...

“Charles...my name...what is my name?”

I heard the shifting plates of rock against rock; my head was twisting back the other way...I couldn’t get through the little windows...the voice...Oh, God...the whispering voice...coming up from underneath the dark...the safe dark was burning...the safe dark was on fire...the hushed voice.... “There is no safe place...there is nowhere beyond here... “

“Charles!!” My ears heard two voices...two whispering voices...one from below the dark and the other in my ear...

“Charles!” Mathews said again and again, that whispering voice that had been so soothing and effective for so many months was no match for the other whispering voice through the fog, through the darkness, through the fire burning my house down, taking my child, my wife... “You’ve taken my life, but you won’t take his...Fucker!”

Only Charlie would talk that way, I thought.

My face still hurt, even though my red cheek had returned to a normal tone.  I peered into Mathew’s bathroom mirror. He stood behind me, his face still showing the fright he must have felt just before he slapped me out of...

“You’re the doctor,” I said, my shirt, pants, everything wet. “Where the hell was I? That was your post-hypnotic whatever it was?”

“Charles...I’m sorry, but that wasn’t anything to do with me. That was...yours. I don’t know what you were into, but... here’s a towel.”

I whipped around. “I don’t know what I was into either, but let’s never go there again, Doctor...never. I don’t care if I ever capture the memories. I’ll go on from here. Charles Randall is never going to lie on that couch again...never.”

The concern in his eyes was struggling desperately with the fire that must have been in mine. He swallowed once...twice and then, “You must, Charles... “

“Must what, Doctor?”

“Must go back to the couch just one more...”

“Never! Jesus, let me out of here.”  I dropped the wash rag and towel and started for the door.

 “Charles! Just once more...you’ve still got the suggestion in your mind. You can’t leave here with it there...do you understand. You can’t leave with that suggestion.”

I stood with my hand on the doorknob. My grip tightened, sucking all the remaining energy I had. My head fell limp to my chest...a head that was ravaged with pain and exhaustion. I turned and leaned against the door, sliding to the floor. “Mathews...Don’t let me go there again...Please.”

The voice I knew would not hurt me...the voice that had to get me right again, said, “It’s going to be okay, Charles. I won’t. It’s okay.”

I lifted myself and moved slowly to the couch.

I didn’t remember anything of that last couch session, but Mathews seemed satisfied that he’d at least removed the post hypnotic suggestion.  As I was leaving his office, he said, “We are without answers to many things, but we’re closer...much closer.”

“And can you tell me now what the suggestion was you had to take away,” I asked.

“I suggested you take the two of us to the cove. I thought a session right there might be helpful, but, well, I decided the suggestion had to be removed.”

“You could have just talked to me normal about the idea. Why a hypnotic suggestion?”

“I had my reasons Charles. I’ve not always been orthodox. You know. I’ve told you all about that. I believed, rightly or wrongly at the time, that physically going there would be an easier route to take. But the earlier session told me it was a place you were having increasing difficulty with, so...I’ve been honest with you from the beginning, Charles, and at the risk of violating professional do’s and don’ts of retaining certain perceptions, I’m not going to stop being completely up front with you. Do you understand?”

I had thought about his confession and I wondered just how strong I really was. “Do you really think going there again, with you, would help?”

“It might, but I’m leaving that up to you now. We can talk further about it later. Only you know if you can handle it.”

The words “Only you know if you can handle it...only you know...only you...only you,” had continued running over in my mind as Mathews walked me all the way to my bike. His last words to me were, “Your mind and body know of a kind of war few ever encounter, Charles. You’ve taken on much more than most are capable of. You’re going to win. You’re going to be the you of whoever you are.”

I had looked closely into his eyes at that moment. “But, am I ever going to know who… who Charlie is?”

“Maybe it won’t matter, Charles. Maybe it won’t matter.”