I Have Been to Therapy
“Anthony”.
“Anthony?”
“Certain cases of mine have all reported the same thing, approximately fifteen minutes after ingesting it”.
“A certain sensation...the same sensation Alice in Wonderland felt...when she drank the bottle labeled...’drink me’”.
“And now you’re going to be just the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden!”.
“Though in my case the garden wasn’t lovely”.
“Because l tracked back stage by stage to the womb...and became my mother.”.
“Suffering the pains of my own birth”.
“And tonight Anthony, I expect you to go farther back still.”
“I want you to find yourself living events in ancient Egypt”.
“You may even find yourself becoming a snake”.
Lindy slowly pressed down on the plunger, then loosened the tourniquet...flooding my venal system with cortisone, pyrazol and some admixtures...of only the devil knew ‘what’.
Doses of 20 to 30 grains of it twice daily were supposed to produce a hypnotic effect, but also a reduction of blood pressure and violent symptoms, in some patients.
It wasn’t going to be a party game, no pleasant reminiscing.
A kind of ‘mental speology’, an expedition in the dark caves of my emotions.
Where l hoped to find my real self.
And provide the clues to my caring, gentle psychotherapist.
Clues to the experiences...which all our minds have hidden...’away’.
“Anthony?”
“Certain cases of mine have all reported the same thing, approximately fifteen minutes after ingesting it”.
“A certain sensation...the same sensation Alice in Wonderland felt...when she drank the bottle labeled...’drink me’”.
“And now you’re going to be just the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden!”.
“Though in my case the garden wasn’t lovely”.
“Because l tracked back stage by stage to the womb...and became my mother.”.
“Suffering the pains of my own birth”.
“And tonight Anthony, I expect you to go farther back still.”
“I want you to find yourself living events in ancient Egypt”.
“You may even find yourself becoming a snake”.
Lindy slowly pressed down on the plunger, then loosened the tourniquet...flooding my venal system with cortisone, pyrazol and some admixtures...of only the devil knew ‘what’.
Doses of 20 to 30 grains of it twice daily were supposed to produce a hypnotic effect, but also a reduction of blood pressure and violent symptoms, in some patients.
It wasn’t going to be a party game, no pleasant reminiscing.
A kind of ‘mental speology’, an expedition in the dark caves of my emotions.
Where l hoped to find my real self.
And provide the clues to my caring, gentle psychotherapist.
Clues to the experiences...which all our minds have hidden...’away’.
