An OSCAR-Worthy Performance

Have you ever pretended like you were asleep so you could listen in on someone else’s conversation? Admit it. I have.

My older sister Julie was in high school when she had her friend Ann over to spend the night. I was “asleep” in my trusty trundle bed, kind of regretting that I had gone to bed so early because I wasn’t even tired. (Now that I look back, I think I had intentionally gone to bed early so that my bed wouldn’t be offered to Ann which would have had me sleeping on the floor.) But now, right in the middle of the girls’ conversation, I couldn’t suddenly just “wake up” and leave the room. I had to stick it out. I didn’t even feel comfortable rolling over or changing positions in any way because I wasn’t sure what kind of expression I should have on my face. What does a sleeping person look like? And what if I accidentally smiled? The jig would be up.

Not to digress, but I will. I just looked up the derivation of the phrase “the jig is up.” In England, back in the mid- to late 16th century, “jig” was slang for a practical joke or trick. If the jig was “up” meant that the trickster had been found out. I think I need to update my own slang if I’m using phrases from 300 years ago. Okay, back to my story.

It seemed as though I had been fake sleeping forever and yet I was learning nothing juicy about my sister’s life. Nothing about boys either of the girls liked. Nothing about illicit adventures they had planned. Nothing.

But again, maybe they knew I was not really asleep. Maybe they knew I’d been awake the whole time and were actually speaking in some sort of code.

Then I thought about how Julie knew I was a really deep sleeper. (She often bragged about stepping on my back to get out of bed in the morning without waking me.) Maybe they weren’t saying anything interesting because they had nothing interesting to say.

I remember another occasion from when I was a kid when I pretended to be asleep. I was young enough to still be losing my primary teeth but old enough to know my mom was the tooth fairy. It was morning and it was a school day. I had lost a tooth the day before and yet it still lay under my pillow. Where was she? I need to get up and ready for school! I kept fake–sleeping until finally, I just gave up on the fairy ever coming. I went to school that day with one less tooth and just as broke as I had been the day before.

I’m sure there were probably other occasions where I pretended to be asleep, but none of them stands out. Until I gave an OSCAR-worthy performance pretending to be hypnotized.

My friend Chris and I were on another vacation together; this time to Colorado. We decided that the “new and different” adventure on this trip would be our getting hypnotized. Again, I think we resorted to the yellow pages (should that be capitalized?) to find a psychotherapist who happened to practice hypnotherapy. We made two appointments.

We each had a list of things we wanted to change about ourselves. We were hoping our hypnotist would be able to fix all the problems we had identified, in one 50-minute session each.

My list included the following: I wanted to enjoy doing exercise; I wanted to start liking vegetables; I wanted to start preferring water over Diet Coke; and I wanted to lose weight. Brother! All having to do with the way I looked! (Must’ve had self esteem issues.) At any rate, I wanted to have a healthier lifestyle and I wanted to want to have a healthier lifestyle. I thought hypnotism would be the way for me to attain my goals without my having to work to do it myself. A perfect fix for a lazy, procrastinating person like me.

Our hypnotist is a man and right off the bat he disappoints me. For the first twenty minutes – I kid you not – this hooligan is telling me about a theory he has developed about the five or seven boxes that make up a person’s life. I think some of the boxes were sleep, sex, work, food, blah, blah, and blah. I’m not really listening. I keep thinking, “Just hypnotize me already!”

Finally, he ends his spiel. I read to him my list of objectives for this session. And this is where my awesome acting begins.

I can’t remember how the hypnotist – he’d probably prefer to be called a psychotherapist, but this is my blog – supposedly put me “under.” He could have had me stare at something, or maybe he told me to close my eyes and think about something. In any event, I ended up with my eyes closed. I am not “under,” merely playing along. I am a skeptic and know he will be unable to hypnotize me.

He proceeds to tell me, in a lulling voice, to picture myself walking along a beach or somewhere I feel warm, safe, and comfortable. I remember his telling me at one point, in the same lulling voice, to picture myself standing naked in front of a full-length mirror. To look at myself. To admire how I look. Is this guy for real? I can hardly keep myself from making a wisecrack.

And then I think,”For all I know, this guy is naked himself, his pants down to his ankles, standing in front of me. Maybe he’s doing deep knee bends, laughing to himself about the control he has over his patients/clients. My eyes remain shut. After all, I’m pretending to be in a trance.

Then it happens. I feel a little tickle on the lashes of my left eye. A bug? I do not like bugs and I particularly do not like bugs that are on me. I cannot twitch or swipe at the tickle because I’m “hypnotized” and shouldn’t be able to feel it. Oh, my gosh! This is killing me! More tickles. Get this bug off of me! I try, by focusing my mind, to get the bug off my eyelashes through telekinesis. No luck. Tickle, tickle. I’m dying – and yet I know my face is impassive. I am a rock. A solid performance.

Then I think, “This guy is trying to test me, to see if I’m under his spell.” Another tickle. I’m starting to crack. I so want to swipe my eye. I refuse to twitch. I need to twitch. I cannot twitch. He will know I’m faking.

Oh, no! Now the lashes on my right eye tickle! What is this guy doing to my eyelashes? Is he touching them with a pencil? A toothbrush? Why would he have a toothbrush in his office? Right. To tickle eyelashes. My face remains statue-like. Unmoving. Still.

The tickling stops. I keep myself from exhaling in relief.

Eventually, and without any mention of green beans, Diet Coke or exercise, my hypnotist “awakens” me.

He tells me he can’t believe how deeply I went under and how quickly, especially for this being my first time being hypnotized. Me, I’m checking his belt to make sure his pants are up and secure.

I also remember his telling me, apparently because he recognized my need for continued therapy, that he’d be able to provide therapy long-distance over the phone, if I’d like. Fake nod of acknowledgment. I do improv too.

I’m pretty thirsty and I’m hoping that Chris’ session goes quickly because I could really go for a Diet Coke.

Before we leave his office, typical me buys one of our hypnotist’s cassette tapes on self-hypnosis for weight loss. I’ll give it a go. The label warns me not to listen while I’m driving. Too bad. That’s my plan. I’m a multi-tasker. I’m going to lose weight while I drive.

After both of our sessions are over, Chris and I go out to dinner to discuss or hypnotic experiences. Neither of us recall anything extraordinary except the fact that I missed my calling as an actress. I have a Diet Coke and have no vegetables with my dinner unless you count french fries as a vegetable. Maybe the hypnosis takes some time to kick in?

Okay, the whole experience isn’t weird enough, right? Our vacation ends and we return to our respective homes. About a week passes and I’m at work. Rosa tells me I have a call from Dr. Whatchamacallit. I work with and for doctors but I don’t recognize the name. Neither does Rosa and she’s usually able to help me out in these situations.

And then it hits me! My hypnotist is calling me at work! What?! Did I give him my business card? Why is he calling me? Is he so concerned about my mental health and the need for continued psychotherapy that he’s reaching out to me long distance? Into my real life? I must be really messed up.

I guess we’ll never know. I didn’t take the call.

And now, as I’m writing this, I’m wondering if he was calling to tell me the magic word that would activate his hypnotic suggestions. If that’s the case, total bummer. ✿