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I got up from the edge of the desk on which I had been perched while talking with Beth. I went around to my chair and sat down.

I opened the drawer of the desk and pulled out a brown-covered book listing addresses and phone numbers. After thumbing through the pages for a moment, I found the desired name and number.

Grabbing the phone, I proceeded to hit the necessary keys. I leaned back in my chair and waited to see if there would be an answer.

Someone responded at the other end of the phone connection. "Hello, can I help you?"

"Is this Dr. Jennifer Ormsby?" I queried.

"Yes," she said. Her reply was part confirmation and part question. The question was an unspoken: 'Who wants to know'? or, 'What is this about'?

"My name is David Phelps. We work in the same building, and we've met at a few conferences."

"Oh, yes, I remember. What can I do for you?"

Side-stepping her question for the time being, I asked: "Did I catch you at a bad time? Can you talk for a few minutes?"

"No, go ahead," she assured me. "I'm not busy at the moment."

Having received the green light, I returned to her earlier question about how she might be able to help me. "I have a client who is with me now, and she has a presenting symptom of an eight or nine day memory lapse. I've considered, checked for, and rejected a number of obvious possibilities."

"There are a number of other causal candidates that, conceivably, could be eliminated through one or more sessions of hypnosis. One of these possibilities involves a phenomenon in which you are interested. I read your recently published article on it."

I only alluded to the phenomenon in which Dr. Ormsby was interested because I didn't want to put any ideas in Beth's head. Furthermore, I raised the possibility of the abduction phenomenon because I thought it would intrigue the good doctor and entice her to help us out.

"And, Dr. Ormsby," I stipulated, "perhaps I should tell you up front. I'm helping this client on a pro bono basis. Consequently, if you're inclined to assist us, I'm kind of hoping you might be willing to offer your services on that same basis, or, at the very least, a substantially reduced rate to be negotiated by all concerned parties."

She listened patiently to what I said. When I finished, she quite wisely asked: "Are there any other conditions about which I should know?"

"Nothing major," I offered. "But, if you could see your way to doing this yesterday, you would have my eternal gratitude."

"Eternity, Dr. Phelps, is a very long time. If I were you, I wouldn't go promising something I might not be able to deliver on."

I countered with: "Would you accept eternity less a day?"

"Not without checking your credibility history," she shot back.

"In that case," I remarked, "I really would have no choice but to throw myself and my client upon the mercy of your court."

"Sounds rather abusive," she commented.

"Which?" I asked, "the throwing or the seeking of your mercy?"

"The former," she asserted.

"Then, may I interpret your response to mean we can count on not being abused by the quality of your mercy?" I said in the most imploring tone of voice I could manage.

"Your client probably can count on my mercy, she stated. "I'm not sure I would be willing to extend the same courtesy to you."

Not willing to call it a day on the verbal repartee, I said: "You are aware, I sincerely hope, Doctor, the tremendously damaging ramifications that such rejectionist statements can have in the development of various pathological conditions in an individual." As I said this, I smiled and winked at Beth just to assure her, in case she hadn't been able to tell by my manner, that this portion of the conversation was all in jest.

"Dr Phelps," said Jennifer Ormsby, "I'm quite certain the adverse ramifications of anything I might say to you would be small potatoes compared to the magnitude of your already considerable pathological condition."

I decided to surrender unconditionally. "Well, if you are willing to extend mercy only to my client, I can live with that. What do you say, Dr. Ormsby, a deal?"

"When and where?" she inquired.

"How about your office?" I offered generously. "I'll let you pick the day and time."

"There's no time like the present," she sighed. "Give me about twenty minutes to finish off something and, then, come over. Is that alright?"

"Perfection," I admitted, "but, with one minor difficulty. I don't know whether to come down, up, or across in order to get to your office."

"I'm in 317 West," she informed me. "Please knock before entering."

"Thank you, very much, Dr. Ormsby," I acknowledged. "Having taken your counseling to heart, I may not be able to manage an eternity of gratitude, or even an eternity minus a day of gratitude, but I am, sincerely, in your debt."

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll find a way for you to work your way out of indebtedness. See you both shortly," and she hung up.

While waiting to go to Dr. Ormsby's office, I talked a little bit with Beth about the general nature of hypnosis. I didn't want to say anything that would leave her with false expectations or distorted impressions of the process.

However, I did want to help her feel positive toward, and open to, the general idea of hypnosis. The intention was not only to help her alleviate some of the anxiety she undoubtedly was feeling about the soon-to-arrive unknown, but help her, as well, to be in a relaxed frame of mind going into the procedure.

Some twenty minutes later, we began to make our way down and over to 317 West. When we reached the office, I, per instructions, knocked.

Dr. Ormsby opened the door, smiled and introduced herself to Beth. She said hello to me and, then, showed us both into another office behind the first room.

She waited for us to through the entrance to the second office and closed the door behind her as she came into the room. She motioned us to several seats by a coach, and after we sat down, she sat on the couch across from us.

Once we were all settled, I said: "Dr. Ormsby, unless you have some objections, Beth has indicated to me that she would like me to be present during the session. Do you foresee any problem with that arrangement?"

"None at all. It's probably a good idea for you to be present."

"Naturally, you should restrict your participation to that of an observer. Once the session is over, we collectively can decide how to proceed."

Dr. Ormsby turned to Beth. "Where do you feel you would be most comfortable" she inquired. "On the couch where you're sitting or, maybe, in the chair where Dr. Phelps is sitting?"

Beth briefly considered the options. "I'll stay where I am," she indicated.

"Before this gets underway," I intervened, "did you want any background information, Dr. Ormsby, concerning either Beth or the situation leading up to the memory lapse?"

"Not really. I often prefer to go into the initial session with as few preconceived notions as possible. Although one can never have a situation free of such preconceptions, I find that keeping them to a minimum is, in the long run, advantageous.

"Consequently, as much as is feasible, I try to let the person relate her or his experiences unencumbered by any biases of mine. Whatever comes from the first session helps lay the foundation on which subsequent explorations are constructed."

Jennifer Ormsby was quiet for a moment. Finally, she looked at Beth and said: "Make yourself as comfortable as you can in your chair, and when you have done that, nod your head."

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