16 December 2011. 09:58 Geneva, Switzerland
Amanda’s office was on the third floor of a seven-story building on Rue du Cendrier 19, in the very heart of Geneva. Jovan was waiting for Trevor at the front entrance after his session. Trevor greeted his friend with a warm hug and a slap on the shoulder. They quickly ascended the wide stairs and stopped at the door. Under the intercom button, the plaque read “Amanda Fabian – Psychologue[16]”.
“Is she Belgian?” asked Trevor, but Jovan had already pressed the button.
A tall young man in this thirties dressed in a black suit and tie with smoothly combed dark hair opened the door.
“Please, come in, Mr. Jovan, Amanda is expecting you,” he said and looked at Trevor. “You must be Mr. Blanche. Hello. Let me take down your details. I need to enter them into our system.”
Victor started entering the information, while Trevor listened to the music that played on the computer. It seemed very familiar, but he couldn’t pinpoint it.
“This is…” Trevor said, pointing at the speakers, but Victor was ahead of him.
“Yes, that’s Parisienne Walkways. Do you like it? Here are your documents. Please, go in,” he said seriously and indicated the door.
“Hello again, Amanda. I’d like to introduce my friend, Trevor Blanche,” said Jovan and looked back to see Trevor entering the doctor’s office. “Trevor, this is Amanda, my guardian angel.”
Trevor and Amanda looked at each other and shook hands. Usually Trevor did not like it when a woman offered her hand to a man, believing handshakes to be solely a guy thing. But now, pressing Amanda’s hand, he did not take notice of it, and he could not tear his eyes away from her wonderfully blue, even turquoise eyes against the dark complexion of her face. Indeed, Amanda’s eyes were of a rare kind of bluish green; they seemed to absorb whoever dared to look into them. Trevor had never been drawn in by such a stare. At the same time, it was a look of puzzlement, a look of frank amazement. In an instant, however, Amanda regained her composure, cast a glance at Jovan and turned back to look defiantly at Trevor.
Blood rushed to his face, but he held her stare.
“Hello, Mr. Blanche. So, you are the one who doubts the power of hypnosis and believes that all hypnotists are charlatans?” Amanda smirked.
Jovan probably had told her about his attitude, Trevor mused.
Amanda pointed to two leather chairs and continued: “Hypnosis is not a means to an end for a psychologist. Hypnosis is a set of instruments for effective work with our consciousness and subconscious, a way to fight fears, treat addictions and resolve psychological issues.”
“It’s not about whether I believe in the power of hypnosis,” answered Trevor as he sunk into the soft chair. “I highly doubt that hypnosis is an effective method of treatment. After all, a state of hypnosis is essentially a state of forced sleep. And what can you cure with sleep, except fatigue?”
Amanda sat down at the table, folding her fingers in the shape of a pyramid. She listened intently to Trevor, eyes piercing him.
“Whether you believe in hypnosis or not is not what is most important. You may or may not believe in the surgeon’s scalpel or dentist’s drill. Those things are merely medical instruments. However, in the hands of an experienced doctor, they become a means for obtaining information or achieving a goal.”
