by Tim Crouch
FATHER:
No, it’s not like that. I’m not here because – I wanted to – I needed you to know. It’s good news. It’s good news.
Claire’s fine.
HYPNOTIST:
What do you mean?
FATHER:
She’s fine. I mean she’s okay.
She’s not okay.
I mean I found her –
I haven’t found her.
I mean I know where she is.
I don’t know where she is.
Only.
You have to help me.
I’ve done something.
Something impossible.
And I don’t know how I did it.
Something miraculous.
But it’s not good.
It’s no good.
And I don’t know what to do.
I don’t know what to do.
Will you help me?
Bach plays.
The HYPNOTIST gives the following instructions directly to the FATHER.
Beautiful. I’m going to feed a speech into your ears! And you’re going to give it directly to the audience. Take your time. Make it your own. This space is all yours. We start when the music stops. Over to you.
Bach stops.
Scene 5
The following speech is prompted throughout by the HYPNOTIST who speaks inaudibly into a microphone, but whose words are picked up through the FATHER’s headphones.
FATHER:
Ladies and gentlemen.
Dawn went to the mortuary. I refused. If anything, in those first few days, Claire had multiplied. She had become cloned! She was between lines, inside circles, hiding beneath angles. She was indentations in time, physical depressions, imperfections on surfaces. She was the spaces beneath the chairs.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Dawn was diminished. She clung to material evidence. To her, Claire was a hair left on a bar of soap, some flowers taped to a lamp post. She was the photograph hung above the piano. For me, these things were no more of Claire than of anyone else. A photograph just looked like other photographs. Whilst I had the real thing!
Nod your head if you understand.
The house began to fill with grief. After the inquest, the undertakers appeared. Dawn and Marcy discussed which of Claire’s cuddlies should go into the coffin. On the day of the funeral I went for a walk. Dawn screamed at me, but I had no one to bury.
Nod your head if you understand.
I came to the roadside. I needed a hug from my girl. I looked at a tree. A tree by the road. I touched it. And from the hollows and the spaces, I scooped up the properties of Claire and changed the physical substance of the tree into that of my daughter.
Three. Two. One.
Bach plays.
The HYPNOTIST gives the following instructions to the FATHER through the ear piece:
‘Fantastic, X. Beautiful. I’m going to come up to you and ask you if you’re okay. I’ll say, ‘Are you okay?’ When I ask you that question take your headphones out – you will not need them again – and then ask me for a drink of water. Say, “Can I have a drink of water?”’
Bach stops.
Scene 6
HYPNOTIST:
Are you okay?
The FATHER takes out his earphones.
FATHER:
Could I have a drink of water?
HYPNOTIST:
Of course. Of course. I’m so sorry. I’ll have to go down to the bar and get you one; I’ll be no more than thirty seconds, I promise. Will you be alright on your own? Say “Yes”.
FATHER:
Yes.
The HYPNOTIST exits the stage to get a glass of water for the FATHER. He is gone no more than thirty seconds, leaving the FATHER alone on stage with the audience.
The sound of the roadside. Thirty seconds, during which a lorry thunders past. The sound of the roadside stops.
The HYPNOTIST returns with a glass of water for the FATHER. He invites the FATHER to sit on the piano stool, and gives him a new piece of script which contains the following scene.
The HYPNOTIST rights one of the upturned chairs from the act and sits on it.
HYPNOTIST:
Okay?
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
You’re doing brilliantly.
How are you feeling about it?
FATHER:
Fine.
HYPNOTIST:
Not embarrassed?
FATHER:
A bit.
HYPNOTIST:
You should have said, I’d have stopped.
FATHER:
It’s okay.
HYPNOTIST:
Still nervous?
FATHER:
A bit.
HYPNOTIST:
It doesn’t show.
I thought I saw you struggling to keep a straight face earlier on.
FATHER:
Yes.
HYPNOTIST:
When was that?
Was it around the wiping up the shit? People usually get the giggles around then.
FATHER:
No, actually.
HYPNOTIST:
When?
FATHER:
When you said Ford Focus. I used to drive a Ford Focus.
HYPNOTIST:
No way! How funny!
What do you think’s going to happen?
FATHER:
I don’t know.
HYPNOTIST:
Who’s your favourite character?
FATHER:
Nobody really.
HYPNOTIST:
Do you get the story?
FATHER:
About the girl?
HYPNOTIST:
I suppose so.
FATHER:
I get that she’s dead. Or is that all in his mind?
HYPNOTIST:
Whose?
FATHER:
Mine. The father’s.
HYPNOTIST:
No, she really is dead.
FATHER:
And you killed her?
HYPNOTIST:
Indirectly, yes.
FATHER:
I don’t understand the stuff with the tree, then.
HYPNOTIST:
No.
FATHER:
I feel sorry for his wife.
HYPNOTIST:
Dawn?
FATHER:
And his other daughter. The one who’s watching The Simpsons.
HYPNOTIST:
Marcia.
FATHER:
How old is she meant to be?
HYPNOTIST:
I don’t know. Whatever you think.
FATHER:
It feels like she’s about five?
HYPNOTIST:
Five’s good. She’s a little under-written.
FATHER:
Yes.
Do we ever get to see her?
HYPNOTIST:
She appears as a chair.
FATHER:
Okay
HYPNOTIST:
In about ten minutes time.
FATHER:
Okay.
Could I ask a question about my character?
HYPNOTIST:
Of course.
FATHER:
What does he do for a living?
HYPNOTIST:
I’ve always assumed he’s a teacher.
FATHER:
Okay.
Of art or something?
HYPNOTIST:
I always assumed Maths, or Geography.
FATHER:
Oh.
HYPNOTIST:
Is it important?
FATHER:
Not really.
HYPNOTIST:
Are you okay if we get back to it?
FATHER:
Of course.
HYPNOTIST:
You’re really good, you know. And you’re doing really well.
FATHER:
So are you.
It’s real
ly well written.
HYPNOTIST:
Thanks.
Can I ask you to go and sit back in the audience?
FATHER:
In the pub?
HYPNOTIST:
Yes.
FATHER:
But they’ve all gone.
HYPNOTIST:
Yes. The show was a failure; they became embarrassed and left. It’s what I’m used to. Don’t worry on my behalf. For the last three months, since the accident, I’ve been – I’ve lost all ability. Like I said, honouring old bookings.
FATHER:
I’m sorry.
HYPNOTIST:
I’ve lost my mojo! Have to think about a career change. Could be worse, I could be dead!
God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
FATHER:
It’s fine. It’s not really me.
HYPNOTIST:
Of course not.
FATHER:
And anyway, it hasn’t happened yet.
HYPNOTIST:
What?
FATHER:
You said it’s a year from now.
HYPNOTIST:
Yes! Of course.
FATHER:
So. If you’ll excuse me.
HYPNOTIST:
Of course.
FATHER:
If we’re a year in the future –
HYPNOTIST:
Yes.
FATHER:
– and the accident was three months ago
HYPNOTIST:
Go on.
FATHER:
– then, on another level, the accident’s also going to happen in nine months time. Nine months from now, here, in the theatre. Is that right?
HYPNOTIST:
I suppose so.
FATHER:
This sounds stupid but –
HYPNOTIST:
Go on.
FATHER:
Is there nothing we can do to stop it happening?
HYPNOTIST:
I’m so sorry.
FATHER:
You will help me, though, won’t you?
HYPNOTIST:
I don’t see what else I can do –
FATHER:
Dawn says I need closure.
HYPNOTIST:
I’m not really a therapist.
FATHER:
I’ve thought about suicide.
HYPNOTIST:
I –
Three. Two. One.
Scene 7
Music plays loud. The come-on-down music from the HYPNOTIST’s act.
During the music, the HYPNOTIST provides the FATHER with a script and a microphone and instructs him/her directly on what to do.
The HYPNOTIST picks up another chair and places it behind the FATHER’s piano stool, where the HYPNOTIST will sit, his back to the FATHER and the audience.
Music stops.
FATHER:
Dawn.
Dawn.
HYPNOTIST:
Sssh.
FATHER:
Dawn.
HYPNOTIST:
What?
FATHER:
You still crying?
HYPNOTIST:
I’d just got to sleep. I was sleeping.
FATHER:
It’s okay.
HYPNOTIST:
Andy.
FATHER:
I wanted to read something to you.
HYPNOTIST:
You’ll wake Marcy.
FATHER
Help you to relax. It’s from one of the books – the books they left – You don’t have to do anything.
HYPNOTIST:
I can’t stand this. I was asleep, Andy.
FATHER:
Listen. It’s a script. It will help you.
HYPNOTIST:
Please.
The FATHER will read the following speech, through the microphone.
At the same time, the HYPNOTIST will get increasingly distraught and upset, delivering Dawn’s words over the FATHER’s speech.
Gradually the ‘hypnotic’ music from the stage act starts to be heard – playing from the same place as the Bach and the roadside. This will build slowly throughout.
FATHER:
I want you to imagine that you are lying on a golden sandy beach. And as you lie under the warmth of the sun, I want you to feel all the muscles in your body are beginning to relax. All the tension is beginning to melt away.
HYPNOTIST:
I can’t bear this.
FATHER:
Your heels are sinking gently into the soft, warm sand.
HYPNOTIST:
Stop this, Andy, please. What’s happening?
FATHER:
Your ankles, your calves, the backs of your knees, your thighs, your buttocks, your sacrum, the small of your back, your spine sinks down, vertebrae by vertebrae, your rib cage, your shoulders, the nape of the neck, the back of the neck, your head.
HYPNOTIST:
Has it not sunk in yet? Is that what’s happened? Well it had better soon, because I can’t do this on my own. I can’t stand this. It’s three o’clock in the morning, Andy, and our beautiful daughter is lying in a fridge somewhere and you’re asking me to relax my fucking knees.
FATHER:
Sinking further and further, relaxing deeper and deeper. All tension bleeding out of your body and into the golden sands. As you breathe in and out, in and out, I want you to be receptive to the thought that you’re letting go of all anxiety, fear, sadness, anger, grief or any other feeling and emotion that is holding you back.
HYPNOTIST:
Don’t you go mad on me, man. I need you. This is hell. If it weren’t for Marcy I’d be under a car. I’d be at the bottom of a lake, off a bridge, under a train, hanging from a fucking beam. Don’t you feel it? Oh god, oh god. You don’t get it. Claire’s gone, Andy. She’s gone.
FATHER:
You’re breathing now in rhythm with the waves that are gently lapping at your feet. The water is clear and sparkling. It is glinting in the dappled sunshine. As the water plays around your body you begin to make a conscious connection from your heart to the whole of creation. And as you breathe, you feel your body sinking lower and lower into the sand, at all times supported by the earth that is so rich, so abundant, so unconditional that her energies can provide you with all you’re asking for.
HYPNOTIST:
You’re not even listening. It’s like some abstract intellectual fucking concept for you, isn’t it. Claire’s death. She never existed for you in the first place, did she? She was just some idea. The idea of a daughter, just as I’m the idea of a wife. Marcy’s the idea of a child. We don’t exist for you, do we, not in flesh and blood. So you haven’t lost anything, have you. She’s still there, in your head, where she was in the first fucking place. Well I have. I fucking have. Help me.
FATHER:
Here begin to create the intention of collecting the subtle qualities you require to help you on your life’s journeys, such as balance, health, clarity, courage. Be aware that as the waters lap around you, your body sinks under and is redeemed of all loss, all negativity. And when at last the waters recede, they leave you feeling completely refreshed and totally relaxed.
The trance music stops.
These are instructions for a mental exercise. Practice each day for one hour. Use caution in releasing yourself at the end of each period of exercise.
Bach plays. The HYPNOTIST instructs the FATHER.
HYPNOTIST:
Fantastic, X! This music’s going to play. I’m going to come and stand downstage. When the music stops I want you to give me that next line on your script – the line is, ‘You’ve woken Marcy.’ And then we’re going to carry on with the scene.
You are doing brilliantly.