latest sleep paralysis episode, how I had experienced being in my kitchen, not where I’d fallen asleep.
“Why do you think the paralysis is just as frightening without the feeling that someone’s there with you, holding you down?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I had asked myself that repeatedly. “While I was lying on the kitchen floor it felt like… I was dead or something, like I had no control over my own body. I had no idea how I had gotten there. I feel frightened even talking about it now.”
Lisa appeared to be taking in every detail, although she didn’t take notes. “Gemma, there’s usually a reason for the feeling of a presence holding onto you. Often, it’s invoked by feelings about a person or possibly the memory of a person. We need to explore those. I think the displacement you experienced with this latest episode represents your feelings of being helpless to control what’s been happening to you.
“Keep a small notebook on your nightstand,” she advised. “The next time you experience the paralysis, as soon as you awaken, write down exactly what you were feeling and thinking about when you fell asleep. Write every detail you can remember from the time the paralysis started and how you managed to pull out of it. You may gain some valuable insights.”
I wanted to object and tell her she was wrong. I didn’t think it possible that a mere memory of a person from my past could cause the night visitor to terrify me, but I was paying her to help me; it would be foolish not to do what she suggested. “I can do that,” I answered.
“I hope you’ll consider joining the support group. I believe sharing with the others and hearing their experiences might help to resolve some of your tension.”
In my desperation, I would agree to try anything. “Can I still come to see you?” I liked Lisa Rayburn. I felt like she understood me in a way no one else ever had.
“Why don’t you see how it goes with the group? Go to a meeting or two, and if you still feel you need more time with me, we’ll set something up. We have some time left now. Why don’t you tell me more about when you worked for the escort service? It seemed like you had more to say about it.”
The woman had to be a mind reader. “I don’t like to talk about it. No one ever believes it wasn’t a call-girl setup. It wasn’t.”
“So none of the girls, yourself included, had sex with the clients?”
“I never saw the other girls. The only one I ever met was the one who told me about the escort service in the first place. She was a fellow student; she told me she didn’t.”
“And you?”
I had to tell her. “A few times, but only with men I was attracted to. And I never took money from them.”
“Gemma, I can’t help but suspect there might be a tie of some kind between your night visitor episodes and your escort days. You say you have no feelings of guilt about it, but maybe you had a bad experience with someone?”
There had been no “bad” experiences, at least not the abusive kind she hinted at; no one had ever been violent. I sighed, my memories spiraling into a past I wanted to forget. “You’re right. There was something—but it was worse than a traumatic experience—I fell in love with a client.”
Lisa’s face registered no surprise at my admission. “Tell me why you describe it as a bad experience.”
I sighed and looked out over Pewaukee Lake. If only I could be there on a sailboat, carefree, and enjoying the day. I had never told anyone but Norman about Taylor, and I hadn’t told him everything.
How to start? I struggled with it for a moment before I realized that in a psychologist’s office there were no right or wrong ways to tell a story.
“I got a call from the escort service for a daytime engagement, which surprised me since those hardly ever happened. When I was advised to dress for a trip to an amusement park, I had no idea what to expect. I had never heard of anything like that.
“Why do you think the paralysis is just as frightening without the feeling that someone’s there with you, holding you down?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I had asked myself that repeatedly. “While I was lying on the kitchen floor it felt like… I was dead or something, like I had no control over my own body. I had no idea how I had gotten there. I feel frightened even talking about it now.”
Lisa appeared to be taking in every detail, although she didn’t take notes. “Gemma, there’s usually a reason for the feeling of a presence holding onto you. Often, it’s invoked by feelings about a person or possibly the memory of a person. We need to explore those. I think the displacement you experienced with this latest episode represents your feelings of being helpless to control what’s been happening to you.
“Keep a small notebook on your nightstand,” she advised. “The next time you experience the paralysis, as soon as you awaken, write down exactly what you were feeling and thinking about when you fell asleep. Write every detail you can remember from the time the paralysis started and how you managed to pull out of it. You may gain some valuable insights.”
I wanted to object and tell her she was wrong. I didn’t think it possible that a mere memory of a person from my past could cause the night visitor to terrify me, but I was paying her to help me; it would be foolish not to do what she suggested. “I can do that,” I answered.
“I hope you’ll consider joining the support group. I believe sharing with the others and hearing their experiences might help to resolve some of your tension.”
In my desperation, I would agree to try anything. “Can I still come to see you?” I liked Lisa Rayburn. I felt like she understood me in a way no one else ever had.
“Why don’t you see how it goes with the group? Go to a meeting or two, and if you still feel you need more time with me, we’ll set something up. We have some time left now. Why don’t you tell me more about when you worked for the escort service? It seemed like you had more to say about it.”
The woman had to be a mind reader. “I don’t like to talk about it. No one ever believes it wasn’t a call-girl setup. It wasn’t.”
“So none of the girls, yourself included, had sex with the clients?”
“I never saw the other girls. The only one I ever met was the one who told me about the escort service in the first place. She was a fellow student; she told me she didn’t.”
“And you?”
I had to tell her. “A few times, but only with men I was attracted to. And I never took money from them.”
“Gemma, I can’t help but suspect there might be a tie of some kind between your night visitor episodes and your escort days. You say you have no feelings of guilt about it, but maybe you had a bad experience with someone?”
There had been no “bad” experiences, at least not the abusive kind she hinted at; no one had ever been violent. I sighed, my memories spiraling into a past I wanted to forget. “You’re right. There was something—but it was worse than a traumatic experience—I fell in love with a client.”
Lisa’s face registered no surprise at my admission. “Tell me why you describe it as a bad experience.”
I sighed and looked out over Pewaukee Lake. If only I could be there on a sailboat, carefree, and enjoying the day. I had never told anyone but Norman about Taylor, and I hadn’t told him everything.
How to start? I struggled with it for a moment before I realized that in a psychologist’s office there were no right or wrong ways to tell a story.
“I got a call from the escort service for a daytime engagement, which surprised me since those hardly ever happened. When I was advised to dress for a trip to an amusement park, I had no idea what to expect. I had never heard of anything like that.
Similar Books
