The Hypnotherapist


It’s what feels like 1250 degrees and I am sitting on some steps, under a tree, sunlight poking down on me, waiting for the Lyft to take me to the tattoo studio, when a man pulls up in a big black car, exits the car, and then stands on the footpath in front of me and says- ‘Wow, this is a really nice street,’
I tell him yes, and he says wow again and tells me it’s a beautiful street.
‘Such beautiful trees, so quiet,’ says the man who is very tall with dark sparse hair, a large stomach, and is wearing a white shirt, black pants and shoes and carrying a large brown paper bag,’
‘You should see some of the streets on the other side of the river,’ I tell him, gorgeous trees and very quiet,’
‘Uh huh,’ says the man, ‘where are you from, what’s that accent?’
I tell him Australia and he tells me he thought so, and that he had lived in Australia for a time.
‘I lived in Glen Waverly,’ he tells me after I have asked him where he lived, ‘and Clayton,’
He goes on to name a couple of other familiar places and I sit there in the dappled light, in the heat, wilting in my jeans and tee shirt, nodding my head.
‘Where are you from?’ I ask him.
‘Beirut,’ he tells me, ‘but we went to Australia for a while and then we came here,’
‘Nice,’ I tell him.
Then the man tells me he works for ADT Alarms as a salesman and then points to an ADT truck parked further up the street.
Then the man tells me he has another business that he’s trying to get off the ground.
‘I am a hypnotherapist,’ the man says.
‘Really?’ I say.
‘Yes,’ he says and then begins to tell me about a man whom he has just cured of smoking.
‘I specialise in smoking,’ the man says, ‘and I love when I have successes,’
Then I tell the man something that I can tell thrills him.
‘I trained as a hypnotist,’ I say, ‘and I have some very good friends who are hypnotherapists,’
‘Ooooohhhh,’ says the man, and holds his hand out toward me, ‘this is great. What is your name?’
I tell him mine and he tells me he his as we shake hands and smile at each other, bonding over hypnosis.
‘Are you a hypnotherapist or a hypnotist?’ I ask him.
‘Hypnosis is for the stage,’ he tells me, waving his hand, ‘but when you add some training it becomes therapy,’
Then he tells me he has certification and tells me who he trained with in the United Kingdom.
I tell him who I trained with and then he tells me I should start working as a hypnotist.
‘They’re slow in the US for this, but last night I spend three hours on a smoking client and I love it,’ he says, ‘I love the connection with people,’
I tell him this is the reason I trained, too, that I loved working with people and helping them out.
Then he tells me again I should start working and I tell him I love it but have trouble with confidence.
‘Maybe I should get some sessions from you,’ I tell him, smiling up at him from where I sit, ‘to help me out with my low self confidence,’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he says, ‘I’ll give you my card,’
He is shaking his head as he takes a card from his wallet and I am smiling at him.
‘You know, I was going to park down the street but I said to myself no, I will park here and now I meet you,’ he says, handing me his card.
‘Yeh,’ I say, ‘it’s a lucky meeting,’
‘Nothing happens for nothing.’ says the hypnotherapist, smiling and reaching out to shake my hand again, ‘Everything happens for something.’

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