She sat in the contoured chair. "The only thing is, how can we get to the bottom of it? I don't understand what's upsetting me, either. It's all too strange. I mean, on the one hand, I'm clearly insane." She spoke flatly as Paul took his seat on the opposite side of the desk. "I have crazy dreams, I think the world is going to end, I have the feeling I'm being followed, and yesterday I started hearing voices in my head. On the other hand, me being insane doesn't explain wolves jumping through the windows."
"Voices?" Paul murmured, looking around for a pencil. Then he gave up and faced her. "Yeah, I know. I understand the temptation. Last night after having those wolves stare at me, I was about ready to believe that there had to be something..." He trailed off and shook his head, lifting papers on his desk to glance under them. "Something... really strange going on. But now it's daytime, and we're all rational people, and we realize that we have to deal with things rationally. And, actually, you know, I think I may have come up with a rational explanation." He found a pencil and with an expression of vast relief began to waggle it between his fingers.
Hope stirred inside Hannah. "An explanation?"
"Yeah. I mean, first of all, it's possible that your premonitions and things are entirely unconnected with the wolves. People never want to believe in coincidence, but it happens. But even if the two things are connected-well, I don't think that means that anybody's after you. It could be that there's some sort of disturbance in this area-something that's stirring up the whole ecosystem, making wolves crazy, doing who knows what to other animals... and that you're somehow sensing this. You're attuned to it somehow. Maybe it's earthquake weather or-or sunspots or negative ions in the air. But whatever it is, it's causing you to think that some terrible disaster is coming. That the world is ending or that you're about to be killed."
Hannah felt the hope sink inside her, and it was more painful than not having had it at all. "I suppose that could happen," she said. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. "But how does it explain this?"
She reached into the canvas bag she carried instead of a purse and pulled out a folded slip of paper.
Paul took the paper and read it. " 'They've seen you. They're going to tell him. This is your last chance to get away.' " He stuck the pencil in his mouth. "Hmmm ..."
"I found it this morning wrapped around my toothbrush," Hannah said quietly. "And it's your handwriting?" She shut her eyes and nodded. "And you don't remember writing it." "I didn't write it. I know I didn't." She opened her eyes and took a deep breath. "The notes scare me. Everything that's happening scares me. I don't understand any of it, and I don't see how I'm supposed to fix it if I don't understand it."
Paul considered, chewing on the pencil gently. "Look-whatever's happening, whoever's writing the notes, I think your subconscious mind is trying to tell you something. The dreams are evidence of that.
But it's not telling you enough. There's something I was going to suggest, something I don't exactly believe in, but that we can try anyway. Something to get to your subconscious directly so we can ask it what's going on."
Get to her subconscious directly.... Hannah held her breath. "Hypnosis?"
Paul nodded. "I'm not a big hypnosis fan. It's not some magical trance like TV and the movies want you
to believe. It's just a state of mind where you're a little more relaxed, a little more likely to be able to remember threatening things without choking up. But it's nothing you can't achieve yourself by doing breathing exercises at home."
Hannah wasn't happy. Hypnosis still seemed to mean giving up control. If not to Paul, then to her own subconscious.
But what else am I supposed to do? She sat and listened to the quiet helplessness in her mind for a moment. Not a peep from the cool wind voice or the crystal voice-and that was good, as far as she was concerned. Still, it pointed up the fact that she didn't have an alternative.
She looked at Paul. "Okay. Let's do it."
"Great." He stood, then reached for a book on the corner of his desk. "Always assuming I remember how.... Okay, why don't you lie down on the couch?"
Hannah hesitated, then shrugged. If I'm going to do it, I might as well do it right. She lay down and stared at the dark beams in the ceiling. In spite of how miserable she was feeling, she had an almost irresistible impulse to giggle.
Here she was on a real psychologist's couch, waiting to be hypnotized. Her friends at school would never consider even going to a shrink-out here inMontana craziness was okay. After all, you had to be a little eccentric to be living in this hard land in the first place. What wasn't okay was admitting you couldn't deal with it on your own, paying too much attention to it, asking for help. And allowing yourself to be hypnotized was even worse.
They all think I'm the most independent and together of any of them. If they could see me now. "Okay, I want you to get comfortable and shut your eyes," Paul said. He was perched with one hip on the edge of his desk, leg swinging, book in hand. His voice was quiet and soothing-the professional voice.
Hannah shut her eyes.
"Now I want you to imagine yourself floating. Just floating and feeling very relaxed. There's nothing you
need to think about and nowhere you need to go. And now you're seeing yourself enveloped by a beautiful violet light. It's bathing your entire body and it's making you more and more relaxed ..."
The couch was surprisingly comfortable. Its curves fit under her, supporting her without being intrusive.
It was easy to imagine that she was floating, easy to imagine the light around her.