Caitlin’s monotone and hesitation showed that she was beginning to disassociate from her own life. Barbara wanted to push her further; that was where control lay and guidance could be achieved.
“Do you see them?”
Caitlin smiled. “No… I hear them. Sex. Smell them… toking…”
“Are you contact-high?”
The smile broadened. “A little.” She giggled. “A lot. Whoo! Haven’t… been… high… since… since…”
“I want you to go back further,” Barbara gently coaxed her. “You’re floating now, in your life.”
“Gee, Abby… is… so… pretty.”
“Your sister.”
“Baby. Baby… sister.”
“Go back further.”
Caitlin had been smiling lightly. The smile left. “Stupid… pogo… stick…”
“Further. You’re no longer Caitlin.”
Caitlin seemed to sink into the bed; it was really a long, slow exhale. Her arms rose in unison then dropped.
“What just happened?” Barbara asked.
“China… chi gong exercise… village…”
“Go back again and keep going. Don’t stop until you are with Jacob.”
“Polar bears… Northern Lights… an iron forge… wooden boats… warriors…”
Caitlin’s expression brightened, then tensed. This was followed by a slight side-to-side motion of her head.
“I am here… but I cannot find my son,” she said, her voice rising. “I cannot see Jacob!”
“Stay calm,” Barbara said.
“He should… be here… I should… feel him.”
“Be patient,” Barbara said gently.
“No!”
“What is it?”
“Galderkhaan… fading!”
Barbara laid her fingers on Caitlin’s wrist. Her pulse was speeding. “Caitlin, you must stay calm. If you panic, you’ll break the trance.”
Barbara left her fingers where they were. After a long moment she heard a moan. It came from Caitlin but did not belong to her. It was much, much deeper than her normal voice. At the same time, Caitlin’s pulse steadied. Then it slowed. Barbara jumped. Caitlin was staring at the ceiling.
“Caitlin, can you hear me?”
The woman continued to stare. Barbara tapped her wrist. She was striking an acupressure point designed to stimulate the blood flow without removing her from the trance.
“Caitlin?”
The woman did not respond. She continued to stare, unblinking. Her breathing was slow and deep. Then she began to shiver. Barbara continued tapping her wrist with two fingers.
“I’m going to bring you out,” Barbara said. “Close your eyes.”
Barbara reached out to shut her patient’s eyes but hesitated; it was as if she was going to close the eyes of a dead person. Instead, she held a finger in front of her eyes.
“Caitlin, it’s time for you to come back. I want you to look at my finger.”
Suddenly, Caitlin’s arms rose slowly from her sides as if they were weightless. Barbara quickly withdrew her finger, not wanting to interfere with the ideomotor reflex. It was action independent of the hypnotist, often the key to deeply buried conflicts. Barbara watched as her companion’s arms formed a circle above her torso and just hovered there.
“They’re here,” Caitlin said in a low monotone. “I am with them.”
“Who?” Barbara asked.
“The luminous circle… the gold snake.”
“Is this the same snake you saw before? In your vision?”
Caitlin nodded. “They… they are real,” she said. “They want me to… come.”
“You will not go,” Barbara said.
“I must. They… want to endure.”
“You are to stay here,” Barbara said more insistently.
Caitlin was suddenly not herself. It happened in a series of subtle ways as her arms formed the circle: her voice flattened, eyes deadened, respiration grew low.
Barbara grabbed her cell phone and shined the flashlight briefly in Caitlin’s eyes. Her pupils were fully dilated yet they barely responded.
“Caitlin, where is the circle?” Barbara asked.
“In awful darkness!” she said. “This is not… death! It is absolute destruction! But—my god, it’s not the end!”
“Yes, it is,” Barbara said. She pushed Caitlin’s arms down, thrust her finger back in front of her eyes. “Look at me!” Barbara shouted. “I’m going to count to three and you will come back with me to the hospital room.”
“Can… can…”
“Yes, you can!” Barbara agreed.
The psychiatrist began to count. When she was finished, Caitlin exhaled loudly then relaxed. She was still staring, though her eyes were not as wide, her pupils no longer fully dilated.
“Where are you, Caitlin?” Barbara demanded.
The woman blinked at her. “I’m here. I’m with you,” she replied.
“So you see me?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Did you see the light I shined in your eyes?”
Caitlin hesitated. Barbara turned the light back on. This time Caitlin winced when it struck her pupils.
“You didn’t react when I did that half a minute ago,” Barbara said as she turned off the record button.
“What was happening? What was I saying?” Caitlin asked.
“I’ll play it back for you in a minute,” Barbara said. She herself needed a moment to try and figure out what had just transpired. “You just lie there. Don’t even think about trying to get up.”
Caitlin did as she was told. “I don’t understand where I ended up,” Caitlin said. “I was in Galderkhaan, then it was gone. Not destroyed, just… gone. I can’t remember how it happened.”
“You were retreating,” Barbara said. “You went back very fast, very far.”
“I didn’t see Jacob when I passed through Galderkhaan,” Caitlin said. Tears began to form in her eyes. “I know that much. I couldn’t even feel him.”
“Do you know why?” Barbara asked. “It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Caitlin. Jacob is here. He’s in New York, in your apartment.”
Caitlin wiped the tears. She was confused, she was angry, and she had no idea what to do next. Maybe Anita and Barbara were right. Maybe everything she did going forward would just muck things up even more.
“Whatever you just experienced, Caitlin, we both know you didn’t leave the room. We’ve had this discussion. Real or not, everything you think you experienced was in your head, where it is subject to personalization, corruption, subjectivity, a host of unreliable markers. Even with racial memories—which are bona fide genetic triggers, quantifiable biological imprinting—those ancient codes inside us may still be using the mind to tell a story.”
Caitlin shook her head slowly. “I don’t believe that. Just because we can’t understand it, that doesn’t mean what’s in my head is false. After the incident in the park I was in Galderkhaan!”
“And after the tornado, Dorothy was in Oz,” Barbara said.
Caitlin grew angry. “I know the difference, dammit!”
“Do you? Because there’s also a rational explanation for everything you said when you were under, and you know what it is.”
“What? Delusion? Grandiose delusion?”
“It fits, doesn’t it? Inflated sense of self, relationship with a deity—called to the side of God. You just said as much in the session. How many point-to-point correlations do you need?” Barbara moved closer. “You know I believe in energies that exist apart from the body. But Caitlin—you’ve used that idea, that belief, to concoct a psychodrama.”
Caitlin looked at Barbara with an expression that was profoundly sad and something else Barbara had not seen, ever: fear.