Intensity - Originally written Friday, February 8th

I wrote this after a particularly intense (and wonderful) trance experience that will now never be repeated.  I have changed nothing from the original text.  I was told at the time that there were important reasons to not post it, as far as I'm concerned those reasons no longer exist.  Enjoy.

Let's pretend that this is a real blog that will be posted for everyone to see, shall we?  It won't be, mostly for the reasons we discussed previously, although I reserve the right to post it in the future.  But for now, it's all yours.

I don't know why I understand the cat in you.  I suppose it could be as simple as "I'm good with animals" and "animals like me" both of which I've said to you (although half in jest.)  It could be a little bit that you make very realistic noises, and as I can't see you it's very easy to imagine you-as-cat as opposed to you-as-man.  But most of it is that you believe it.  And, especially while entranced, what you believe I believe.  (This I think is also a key to why we interacted so successfuly the other night.)  What you believe, I believe, and what I believe you believe, at least within the confines of that tiny (and immeasurable) time that we call trance.

So.  Yes, the animal in you appeals to me.  The sound of the growl/purr/rumble in my ear makes my muscles clench and my breath come fast, as you undoubtably have noticed.  I like the strangeness of it, the danger of it, the language of it; I like the idea that since you know it's real I can be drawn in to that knowing so easily. 

And my descent into sharing that space (headspace?) with you happens frighteningly quick.  You say 'pinned down', and I can feel a paw the size of my head pushing my chest into the bed.  You talk about teeth, and I can feel them hovering over every part of my body that you describe.  You ask me if I know what I am, and I don't even have to think about it.  I know I'm prey.  Every bit of me knows, and it's titillating and terrifying all at once.  My chest gets pressed deeper into the bed and you keep asking me if I know I'm prey, do I know what happens to prey, do I know what you will do.  I know it in every bit of me, every atom screaming in fear but not wanting you to stop.  But you make me say it, you make me answer, you make me really, viscerally, deep in the part of my brain that only knows to run or fight know that I am prey and that you are a danger to me.  Because I surrendered to the cat the first time I ever asked for the growl.  I laid myself out for it, knowing the danger, because it was intoxicating and arousing to know that I responded so strongly.  And yes, it sounded like panic, but it wasn't.  I couldn't have used my panic button if I'd been ordered to, because my ability to think like a person was completely gone.  I don't know what you made me, but it was something other than human.

And bringing me back, calming me down, taking me deep, and then leading me ever-so-carefully back to that point where I knew in my gut that I was prey.  Asking me if I wanted to run, as if I was capable of answering you with anything resembling speech.  Of course I wanted to run, but I couldn't figure out how I could do that and still be pinned to the bed.  How I could be the person listening to your words as well as the creature quivering in fear and desperate to race away.

And bringing me back and calming me again, taking me deeper, and moving that line between standing strong and flight just a little askew, so that I could enjoy the experience through the fear.  You said the noises sounded different, and that's because they were.  I made the only noises I was capable of, instinctive and completely removed from any semblence in my mind of speech.  Still knowing that I had to be quiet so that my roommate wouldn't feel the need to come down and ask why I sounded like an animal being hunted--which is why I don't think you realized that from the moment you said 'cum' that is all I did, over and over, a full body response that was a final release from fear more than anything else.

I quite enjoyed it.

But it was incredibly intense, and incredibly foreign to waking me. 

 

I hope that this kind of description is what you were looking for; I very much wish that you could do the same thing in return for me.  I'd love to have a guide to all the different sounds you make.

 

Text me on my phone if you want when you get up; I would love to start my day with your opinions on what I wrote.

 

and--

 

ASTERISK

 

which means something to me

and something to you

maybe not the same thing

but I know that eventually

you will tell me.

Dilemma - Part 2

I'd like to thank the several very sensible people who have talked with me today, all of whom very rationally pointed out to me that trying to keep future badness from happening by starting fires meant that I was avoiding acceptance of both the situation as well as my feelings.  So no burning bridges.

Much.

I do have something I want to say however, and as I suspect that I will never have the opportunity to do it in private, here it is in public:



You say you cannot give me what I want, which is odd, because what I wanted was exactly what I thought I already had.  What I wanted was the eventual resolution that you said was already in motion.  It never occured to me that the outcome you meant was my sacrifice and not my integration.

I want something different now.  I want honesty and respect (both of which I thought I already had,) a display of some sort of ability to handle the situation like an adult, and a show of intelligence.  I believe that I will get these things, and for that, I thank you.

I need one question answered:  why is friendship impossible?  Because not being considered a pariah and a persona non grata would go a long way in preventing me from hating you.


That's all.  No fireworks, no revelations, no crying hysteria (where anyone can see it.)  The only part of this mess that I will air is my own, because ultimately lashing out would just make me feel even stupider and less capable than I already feel.


But I'm not saying that there won't be a "dilemma - part 3" either.

Dilemma Part 1

I have a way of dealing with potentially embarassing situations.  I prefer to put things out in the open before anyone else can, that way it's me who starts the rumor, me that feels in control of an essentially uncontrollable situation.  The situation I am in now is so utterly out of my control that all I want to do is lash out with everything I have and cause as much pain as I have been caused.  I want to cause ruin.  I want to create a cataclysm.  I want to blow a crater a million miles down into the world and sink everything I'm feeling as well as the person who made me feel this way so deep that there is no chance for recovery.  Because the most embarassing thing that could happen to me now would be for him to decide that this sacrifice of my friendship was too much, that he went too far, that he regrets his loss of me and wants my friendship back.  Because I would accept it.

So.  This is my dilemma:  do I live in hope, hating myself for being willing to even entertain the thought of putting myself back into his circle, or do I burn every bridge leading to him so completely that the possibility of hope is eradicated? 

How many people do I hurt in an attempt to protect myself?



And now I have to go to work.  So I have all day to write in my head, and then to decide just how much havok I would cause in trying to save myself.

Heartbreak

I have a few rules about how I write, which extend by association to how I present myself in the hypno community at large.
First of all, for those of you who aren't aware, Noelle Carson Nicholson is my pen name.  I use it on my favorite hypno sites because I wanted to remain anonymous but still be treated like a person.  For whatever reason I felt that if I chose a clever user name that was a pun, or a character, or something along those lines that I would be treated as less than human.  Likely silly, I know, but that is how I felt.

Likewise, in writing this blog I made a decision to be completely honest in whatever I wrote, so that even though the name I presented was a little bit of a lie, the 'me' that I presented would be complete truth.  I have done that.  I have posted things that are incredibly hard for me to share, things that are embarassing, things that are painful, things that hit me so close to my breaking point that the only way I can do it is because I have the tiny camouflage of that fake name.

Some people know who I really am.  I felt like, if we got close enough, that if I trusted them enough to let them rummage around inside my head on a regular basis, that it was only fair and right that I share my true self with them.  This is always a giant step for me, and one that I don't make lightly, and with a huge amount of fear and trepidation.  It never occurs to me that it's a foolish thing to do, that if something goes wrong then someone who I don't want knowing me any more knows exactly who I am.

It hurts more knowing he knows me.

It hurts knowing that I am the brave one, and that I am the one who tries, and that I am the one willing to risk even when it hurts.

It hurts knowing that when I stand up for myself the response is abandonment.

It hurts knowing that I am the grown up.

This feeling is why I was so scared to expose myself to the world in the first place.  This feeling of betrayal, this sense that I am not worth enough in his eyes to speak to, to try for, to be truthful to.

Yes.  This is extremely vague.

Because even though I am being honest about how I feel, I will not break his trust the way he has obliterated mine.


Because I am the god damn grown up.

Mirrors

There is an acting exercise with which anyone who has ever taken Acting 101 should be familiar.  (Joey did it in an episode of 'Friends' once as well, so probably familiar to anyone really.)  Working with another person, you say something, a line from whatever you're working on maybe, whatever's in your head, perhaps the teacher told you what to say; it doesn't really matter so long as you say it to the other person.  They repeat the line.  You repeat the line.  And with each repetition, the intention behind the line changes and you start to communicate how and what you are feeling without ever needing to change the words.  The connection that grows between the two in that series of moments can become penetrative and contemplative, intimate and efluant, fluid and overwhelming--and often exposes feelings that the actors never realized they had before beginning the exercise.

Sound familiar, hypnotists?

We are your scene partners, your mirrors, and we give back tenfold what we receive.  So when you think you are hiding, safe behind your facades of control and technique, remember, we are seeing you. 

The Solipsist's Lament

Here's a side effect of having new experiences and making friends that physically live far, far away.  When something horrible is happening in their lives, there isn't a god damn thing I can do about it.  This is when people pray or chant or send good vibes or whatever floats your boat, and all I can do is sit and wait and be ready to listen when needed.  I want to give in, I want to succumb to the urge to believe that something I think here can effect someone hundreds of miles away.  I want to embrace everything I believed as a child, that I can feel someone's pain from so very away, that I can touch them without touching, that I can fix it or heal it or change it just by wishing for it.

It's not true.  None of it can possibly be true. 

I used to believe that if I sat quietly with my eyes closed and just listened that I could feel the pain of the world around me.  That every time someone cried if I listened just right I could cry along with them.  That I could tell when someone was in pain just by walking past them.  That I could reach out and touch whatever was hurting them and feel it for myself.


Until one day I couldn't.  Until one day I didn't care about those around me.  Until one day I became content to be alone.  Until one day I accepted my inability to deal with more than one person at a time.  Until one day it occurred to me that I couldn't be hurt because it
just
didn't
touch
me.

Until one day
(today)
when I can't tell if I am merely feeling sympathy or actually feeling what someone else is feeling.  So I think I'll sit here and be quietly terrified at the return of something that doesn't exist.

Becoming

Sometimes I feel like I have spent my life punishing myself for not feeling enough.  And sometimes like feeling too much is my punishment for some unknown, inadvertant mistake.  I swing between the two extremes, never quite able to find a happy equilibrium, a place where I can walk through my life in a glide rather than a run, a steady pace rather than continually trying to edge backward.  Does everyone feel this terrible paradox of racing forward yet retreating?  Does everyone exist only at the widest point of the pendulum's swing?  I try to let myself experience the center place, the quiet that comes from peace and the concert that comes from contentment, but I find myself dropping off at the apex of the swing, the place where the most damage can be done when I finally hit the ground.

I keep thinking to myself that this cannot be healthy.  That the best thing to do is cut and run, go back to living the tiny yet exquisitely safe life that used to be mine.  Put out of my mind what I would lose, stomp it into the ground and leave it there to rot, convince myself so utterly that it's not worth having (or that I am not worthy of having it) that I am never, ever tempted to go back.

It wouldn't be the first time.

But I'm not sure that I know what 'healthy' feels like.  I have been alone for so very, very long, walking through the crowd but maintaining my autonomy.  Paring away anything that made life too complicated, but using crude cuts that took the good as well as the bad.

It is second nature to me now.

Am I one of the healthy or one of the sick?  I read that in a magazine article once, written by a woman who had become a psychologist in order to help people who had been hurt the way she had been hurt, and only years later discovering that she had never found the time to get help herself.  She thought that she could do it all alone, and had found out the hard way that she couldn't. 

No one can.

I don't know how to change, but I think I have put myself into a position where I will have to change, to learn, in order to survive.  It's a terrible and awesome feeling, and one that I'm not comfortable with at all. 

I suspect that it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Extraordinary Things

I have had an extraordinary day (that has stretched into an exraordinary night) and like many extraordinary things is proving very difficult to write about.  Exraordinary things have been happening to me daily ever since I discovered hypnosis; I am constantly surprised by the next thing that comes along.  Just like I can always go deeper so can I always find new territories to explore.

So, an update on the life of Noelle.  I am no longer seeking out new trance partners.  (This doesn't mean that I won't trance with someone new, but it does mean that if you chat me up with the sole intention of trying to entrance me that you will be sadly disappointed.)  I have found two wonderful friends with whom I can play with total trust and respect and that is sufficient.  They are very similar in some ways, but also dramatically different in others.  It keeps it interesting for me, interacting with these two points of view.  Keeps me on my toes, as it were.

The novelty of being a science project has worn off, especially as I've discovered something that I am not good at at all.  Turns out I'm lousy at being blank--that complete mindless state that some people seem to achieve without effort.  I want to be able to experience it quite a lot;  someone saying "freeze" and me being frozen and mindlessly unaware of the passage of time before someone says "unfreeze."  I'm having a lot trouble with the 'mindlessly unaware' aspect.  We're working on it and I know that someday we'll manage it, but until then I am being childishly impatient and not a little bit demanding of myself.

I've rediscovered some things about myself that I should have already known from my 'real' life but hadn't really expected to deal with in my hypnotic life.  Stupidity annoys me, as does neediness and unfounded arrogance.  (And by 'annoys' I really mean 'angers'.)  I seem to attract men with the mentality of little boys who are looking for a Mom, or arrogant jerks who think they are god's gift to any woman with a Skype account.  Strangely enough, in a community that practices an art to which listening is integral I have encountered very few people who actually bother to listen.  Maybe it's because so many people rely on scripts posted online and read blindly by someone with no connection to the original hypnotist.  It's a mystery to me.

But as I said, extraordinary experiences.

Having all my senses heightened to unbelievable levels and then orgasming like something supernatural.

Being taken so deeply into trance that all I remember is the sensation of water and some pretty lights.

And feeling a connection so strongly with someone that I would have sworn he was in the room with me, so close that I should have been able to just...reach...out...

Asking myself again how it is that I have this mighty rapport with two people whom I've never met?  (When I crack that mystery I'll have the keys to the universe.)

It's already tomorrow, so I suppose I'll have to look forward to today for any answers.  Or more likely, more questions.


p.s.
*licks from the base of your skull to the bottom of your spine*

Deeper - Chapter ? - First Draft

Jilly follows the tide as it moves in and out across the shore of her ocean.  The water holds her up, lapping against her skin, coating the downy hair on her arms, weighing down her clothes, holding her immobile yet unafraid in the darkness.  With every movement of the waves, every small swell of the tide, the water pulls at her feet, a little more each time, until finally her toes are pulled beneath the surface.  The balance shifts, her world tilts, and she slides smoothly between the waves and into the depths.

She spins slowly downward;the silver lures on her Grandad's fishing line had spun like this, slowly spiralling through the water as they were pulled ever downward.  Shining to light her own way, Jilly did the same, twisting in the currents and going around and around, lower through the limitless deep.  She no longer knows if her eyes are open or closed; these waters are so dark that her eyes would be useless here.  She relies on another sort of vision, letting her awareness drift and eddy around her, noting the other creatures that keep pace with her on her journey.

To her left, a cloudy horde of jellyfish, tentacles weaving messages of greeting to her as they propel themselves along her path.  To her right, the eels, undulating like inky ribbons, sparks glistening along their edges as a warning to all who might approach.

Above, the great white predator, circling endlessly, ever-vigilant and ageless in its need to watch over her.  And below, the massive whale, the dogfish, the holder of knowledge that waits for her to sink into its domain.

The whale floats unmoving below her, and Jilly finds to her surprise that a stone has been tied to her feet, that the stone is dragging her down to the whale, deeper than she ever could have managed without it.  She draws even with the whale's great eye, and stares, fascinated, at this orb that dwarfs her body.  It shines with its own light, just enough to illuminate her skin, and Jilly watches, awestruck, as her pale arm, glowing in the eye-light of the whale, begins to rise up to touch the skin of the beast.  Before she can touch it, she sinks again, the current pulling her toward the front of the creature's head, the stone falling away from her feet as the whale seems to yawn, wider than the whole world, and pulls Jilly into the cavern of its mouth.

Spoiled

I had just decided to write a blog about how spoiled I think I am that I was able to find two people who want to spend (a sometimes significant amount of) time both trancing me as well as being my friend when I got this message:

want to sspend the afternoon a little less then solidly here?

(The answer to which is always always always going to be yes.)   So here I sit, writing rather than planning, typing rather than doing the sort of over-complicating organizing that has been keeping me from writing, all while having that "fuzzy not quite here feeling."  I quite like it.

I have been very frustrated by the time difference between myself and a couple of people with whom I thought I was building friendships, and getting a little whiny about it, and had to forcibly stop myself.  It's a hold over from being the kid that didn't know how to get along with everyone; I always thought that no one wanted to have anything to do with me and I've never really escaped from that over the years I suppose.  I forget that people have lives and jobs and other friends and interests that take them elsewhere.  I was falling into the trap of thinking that it was about me when we failed to connect, which is a silly attitude to take but one I fall into easily.  (As well as feeling sorry for myself.)

And I have absolutely no reason to feel sorry for myself, for the friends that I am making/have made are so worth the times when no one is around.

I know this doesn't make a lot of sense, but this is how my thought process works.  If you're looking for coherence and some sort of linear pattern, you are so out of luck!

Dreams

I finally remember part of a dream and this is what I get?

I dreamed I was the male part of a couple, and we were quietly breaking up in the bathroom of a hotel room while our female friend slept just outside the door.  So we were being very calm and very quiet, unnaturally so.  I was trying to convince my girlfriend that I would start making better (or any) decisions, and she was casually putting on false eyelashes.

So.  What do you all make of that?