Hazy Delays

A journey’s obstruction gives way to a unexpected reprieve.

“Excuse me. Do you have a light?”

“Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t asking if you smoked.”

* * *

“Long day? I can understand. Looks like you almost dozed off there. Before it happens again, I had something to ask you.”

“I wonder if you can remember even experiencing my voice before this. Maybe you’ve heard it before, and a ‘touched’ part of you remains deep inside you, unbeknownst to you, where you crave the sound of it. For all the resistance you’re trying to put up, I imagine that part of you has been almost deemed a traitor, guilty of high treason or some such silly nonsense, now a political prisoner based on some awfully shady politics. My imagination can really get going when I put my mind to it, and so can yours I bet.”

“There is even a chance that this is the first time I’ve tried to intentionally hypnotize you. I say intentionally because I’ve found a scary number of men, and women, who find themselves in some kind of unconsciously broadcasted enthrallment I put out. Some just can’t help paying acute attention to any and everything I say, every word, small laugh, finger motion, hip wiggle, maybe even the click of my heels. It all just…does something to people. It’s how I knew I was destined to be a hypnotist, professional and otherwise. So, more or less, that’s my impromptu story on how I became such an infamous…me. It’s also a general explanation for why I might not remember having hypnotized you before. So many before you have been, from engaging me. More after you will fall for sure. And really the only guarantee I can give you is that it WILL happen, because I want it to, and that’s just the way it is.”

“All those other people I’ve just told you about, I bet you’re wondering exact numbers of ‘all those people.’ Hundreds? Thousands? I couldn’t even tell you. A recent subject of mine, when she was somewhere in-between sleepiness and wakefulness, asked an interesting question to the tune of ‘is it enough?’ I can only assume that meant have I or will I ever be satiated. I couldn’t answer her at the time, and it wouldn’t have mattered as the words themselves would’ve just slipped away while the sound of my voice just whisk her away. As of right now though, the answer that comes to me is unequivocally ‘no.’ I’m not even sure what ‘enough’ for me really means, but I find it hard to get enough of what I see when I do. A new face like yours, slowly feeling the full effects of my presence, of my attention; it’s borderline addictive for me. Everyone is similar, or a little different, and to take in each facial tick, to see every crease or muscle tension go away is fascinating. It’s like something comes over you. Even me speaking candidly like this fills you with wonder, that leads to deeper wonder.”

“That lightbulb over your head, or in your head has slowly been dimming this whole time, without you realizing or caring very much. It’s surprisingly pleasant to how it dims, and also unexpected. It doesn’t just go out like a light; something comes over it. Something….hazy. Something smoky, like a wisp of thick, cloudy mist. It covers that light bulb in you. The light is a power source, allowing your mind to work on the many levels that it can, creating the ability to form thoughts. And out of nowhere the mysterious mist descends, dividing your thoughts from each other, leaving them to wander in wonder, confused, unable to discern what has happened. They walk carefully into an abyss, visibility so low, finding less and less of a need to try to go anywhere. Your thoughts can just cease and halt, stay where they are. Your thoughts can realize that they have a unique opportunity to be by themselves, and let the rest of the world go away. Even the most nagging of thoughts will soon question why they even need to stand. They can kneel if they wish, like in prayer hoping for this mist to last. Or they may sink to the ground, rest their tired, overworked heads, and discover the understated treasures of sleep.”

“Yes, I do love to think of thoughts as individuals. So many thoughts in your head at any given time, each with a voice. Some louder than others, some more persistent than others, all vying for your attention at the same time, even when you sleep. But all those voices are silent now, and only one voice remains. Maybe this voice rode into you with the mist, maybe it was the first and only thought to welcome the mist. You don’t know; all you know is you only need one voice right now, and this voice whispers to you, understood more than heard, but you love the sound of it. It only asks you to enjoy what’s happening to you, to enjoy the silence, the peace, the sleepy drowsiness that comes with just listening. No thinking, no reasoning, no contemplation, no need. Just listen, and find yourself enjoying what you now notice since you’re not busy thinking.”

“That mist isn’t only in your head. It rolls in like a wave over your body. As if you’ve woken up outside to a warm, hauntingly seductive morning air. That mist rolls over you and feels tangible. Smoky trails cover your hands, your arms, your feet, your legs. The grace of a lover’s touch caresses your skin like it was meant for you and you alone. It’s as if this mist knows you, inside and out. It knows when to leave you be, and when you need rest, and you do need rest now. Your shoulders feel the ghost of a massage, tickling your earlobes, making promises not to stop if you simply listen. Your whole body feeling liquid, malleable, as formless as the mist itself, as if your being could dissolve into it. You as a whole won’t dissolve; you are merely here to listen and enjoy this. The mist covers you and carries you, while certain parts of you find themselves even more enticingly caressed. These certain parts will dissolve, but they are so unnecessary, so unneeded. They weigh you down while the mist desires to carry you up and away. You can’t imagine what parts I’m talking about, so let me help you envision it.”

“There is a side of you, deep in you, deep inside everyone, that yearns for exactly this feeling. The feeling of the mist covering every part of you, leaving you in the deepest peace and pleasure you’ve ever, or never known. This part of you may even felt this touch before, on the many journeys we take in life. The moment you met me, parts of you have sent that deep part of you away, locked away behind walls of resistance. Large, subconscious, unnecessary walls. The mist laps at these walls, feeling their strength, feeling that strength diminishing the longer it stays in contact with it. In the time you met me, the effect was so quick, these walls were hastily constructed, foundations weak, fortified by little more than a fear of the unknown. But now it is known, the pleasure the mist is, and the walls of resistance caressed lightly, only to fall to the mist’s power. The first wall coming down feels like a new part of yourself opening up to me, more pleasure to take in, even more peaceful. The next wall feels a stronger mist. Maybe it communicates with the wall, asking why it needs to be here, asking how good the effects of the mist feels. The wall eventually concludes that the mist is right, and feels right. Another wall down.”

“One after another the walls fall like dominoes, maybe falling so fast that they start to knock each other down. The more the walls fall, the weaker they all become, so even that imprisoned side of you that desires the mist can push against the walls itself. These burdensome walls topple from both sides now. These walls fall and dissolve away; they can’t stop the force of the side of you that desires to succumb to me, as it runs clearly and freely into the loving arms of my mist. All that silly resistance is gone, no more walls stand. Your succumbing side runs into my embrace. Your mind and body are now wrapped in my embrace. A cocoon of peace and pleasure, only me and you. Only you listening to me. Only me speaking to you, soothing the light and thoughts in you to sleep.”

“For the life of me, I still can’t remember if we’ve ever met. And it will be a shame if we meet again and I still can’t recognize you. I wish I had a better memory for faces; flight-after-flight, all the people I’ve met and tranced, all your faces start to run together. They do get hard to distinguish once they take on that cute, blank stare though. And I’m sure if you fall quickly the next time we might meet, that will be a solid indicator of our having met. Of course, that touched, succumbing side of you will never forget this. It won’t allow you to consciously remember me, or the mist, but it will have more power than ever before. I’ve imbued power into this side of you that has gratefully accepted my will. It is empowered on my behalf, and on occasion, when the time is right, it will return you to this experience. Overtaken by the mist, sinking into my will, hearing the sound of my voice speaking your submissive thoughts. You’ll know deeply that you are controlled. The ‘who’ isn’t as important as the how it feels, and when you will respond to me, if and when you meet me again. Given you’re a constant traveler on this side of the country as well, I’d say there’s a better chance than most that you’ll be seeing me again.”

“In fact, I’m feeling generous. Sometime later, when you have time to yourself, and when your submissive side wills it, you can reach into your purse and pull out this business card. It will only come to you when feeling submissive, and you will only consciously see it as having to do with possible business. You won’t question how a stage hypnotist could be business contact; you will call the number looking to finally connect with me. Hearing the sound of my voice, as a message or live, the sound will mystify your mind, and make you like you are now. You will say to me “My light is dimming,” and describe how my trance affects you until I tell you to stop. When the call ends, you will return to normal, thinking it was a successful call. I might call you back, to which you will do or feel as I tell you.”

[Attention: Ladies and gentleman. The weather obstruction outside is said be clearing up. Those en route to Dallas, TX from Kansas City are asked to head to terminal A27 to prepare to begin boarding.]

“Ah, looks like our time is up. I thought we’d have a bit more, given how outside looked. Was very nice inspiration though. I will count you back up from one to ten, and you will feel refreshed and happy, having enjoyed our chat that made the time pass rather easily, and wish me well as I have to get to my plane. If that submissive side of you emerges tonight in your hotel, don’t fight it. Go with it. I’ll be very happy if you call. Prepare to awaken, and never forget the mist. One…”

* * *

[Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Dallas Business Class lounge. We regret to inform you that some of the weather from Kansas City has followed you here and it might take some time for those in layover to board their next flight. We ask for your patience and hope you enjoy your time here.]

A collection of groans was uttered from the people walking into the lounge, with the exception of one woman who looked out to see familiar weather and just smile at it. Across the lounge, she noticed a beautiful woman sitting alone, absently staring outside.

“Excuse me, do you have a light?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“I didn’t mean that kind of light sweetie.”

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