Chapter 5: Hypnosis
My stepmother Mum persisted in trying to take me to see a psychiatrist but then decided to reverse tactics: she invited a freelance psychoanalyst and real psycho to come to us. This ungainly individual, whose small, black eyes bored into me seemingly out of shyness, would come round once a week. “I’m a doctor,” he would say each time, his tone ingratiating, then await my confession. “I am entirely at your disposal. I’m here to help.” Yeah, right! Could he really give me back what I was looking for? Gradually, I got used to him and stopped seeing him as an enemy. “I am going to hypnotize you and then you’ll be able to remember,” he offered once. Until then, I had just made fun of him and, when I went round to my friend’s, I used to imitate his rasping voice and we would
