“Honestly”: a hypnotherapeutic fairy tale

Back in 1982, Anna Gennadievna was six and a half years old. In early January, she, in the company of her mother, aunt and cousin Slavik, went to the Christmas tree at the local House of Culture for the first time. Slavik was five months older than Anechka, so on that frosty day in January Slavik was already seven years old, and Anechka was still six, albeit one and a half.

The sun shone like an egg yolk in a transparent sky. They walked through the creaky January snow, and clumsy snowflakes funny pricked Anya in the nose and tangled in her eyelashes. On the occasion of the holiday, the girl was dressed in a green dress knitted by her grandmother. Grandmother decorated it with tinsel and sequins, and the dress turned into a Christmas tree costume.

A chicken costume was made for Slavik. It consisted of yellow satin harem pants and the same undershirt. The crown of the costume—literally—was a chicken head. Slavik’s mother sewed a yellow cap, attaching an orange beak made of cardboard instead of the visor, and in the middle of the cap she sewed a comb cut out of foam rubber and painted with scarlet gouache. In the battle for the best New Year’s costume, all relatives predicted the first place for Slavik.

Streams and rivers from children and parents flowed centripetally to the entrance of the House of Culture, in front of which they turned into one powerful humming-buzzing stream, pouring into the lobby of the building. Adults were warned in advance that the performance was intended only for children who would be in the auditorium without their parents. Therefore, on the way to the Christmas tree, both mothers gave instructions to the children on how to behave. Anya’s mother strictly ordered not to leave her brother for a single step, fearing that her daughter might get lost in a huge mass of children.

Once in the building, the magnificent four were instantly infected by the general fuss. Parents every minute prettier children, shaking and combing them. Children struggled, ran around the lobby and became disheveled again. The lobby looked like a huge chicken coop. The chicken costume was just right.

Taking off his heavy checkered coat, Slavik gladly pulled on satin harem trousers over his breeches and slipped into his undershirt. With incredible pride, he tied a cap with a beak and comb under his chin. The yellow satin shone and shimmered. Together with him, Slavik shone and shimmered, and Anna Gennadievna for six and a half years enviously swallowed her saliva: the Christmas tree costume could not be compared with the chicken costume.

Suddenly, a middle-aged lady with a high hairdo, dressed in a brown suit, appeared from somewhere. With her appearance, she reminded Anechka of an impregnable rock from a fairy tale about a funny but fair mountain (there was such a Vietnamese fairy tale).

Oddly enough, the voice of the “rock” was quite gentle and at the same time loud. Pointing to the foyer with her brown sleeve, she signaled to the children to follow her. The parents were about to rush in the same direction, but the “rock” skillfully slammed the glass door separating the foyer and vestibule right in front of their noses.

Once in the foyer, the “rock” lady said loudly: “Children who are under seven years old, raise your hand and come to me. Those over seven, stay where you are.” Anya did not want to leave the seven-year-old Slavik for an incomprehensible rock aunt, but in their family it was customary to tell the truth. Is always. And Anna Gennadievna, closing her eyes, took a step forward towards the unknown. Uncertainty carried away her and girls and boys like her along the patterned parquet of the foyer to the auditorium. “The Rock” quickly seated the kids in the front rows and just as quickly disappeared.

As soon as Anna Gennadievna plopped down into a burgundy chair upholstered in velor, she immediately forgot about her brother. An incredible curtain appeared before her eyes. Its surface was embroidered with sequins, between which the sun, moon and stars sparkled. All this splendor shimmered, sparkled and smelled of dust.

And Anna Gennadievna experienced such a cozy and pleasant state that, emboldened, she placed her hands on the wooden armrests, polished by time. To her right sat a frightened red-haired girl, and to her left a boy with a painted mustache dressed as a pirate.

There was a buzz in the hall, as in an oriental bazaar. And as the light gradually faded away, the hum subsided. And finally, when the lights went out and the hall became completely quiet, the curtain opened. Anna Gennadievna saw a wonderful winter forest and its inhabitants. She fell into the magical world of a fairy tale, completely forgetting about Slavik with his costume … and even about her mother.

Some harmful animals, led by Baba Yaga, kidnapped the Snow Maiden, hiding her in the forest. And only the brave Soviet pioneers managed to free her from captivity. The forces of evil irreconcilably waged a struggle with the forces of good, which eventually triumphed. The fox and the wolf shamefully fled, and Baba Yaga was re-educated. Father Frost, the Snow Maiden and the pioneers hurried to celebrate the New Year.

The hour allotted for the performance flew by in an instant. And all this hour Anechka “was” there, on the stage. Together with the brave pioneers, Anechka helped the Snow Maiden overcome the intrigues of the villains. Anna Gennadievna deftly outwitted the fox, deceived the stupid wolf and envied the pioneers a little, because they fought evil for real, and she pretended.

At the end of the performance, Anya clapped so hard that her palms hurt. Santa Claus from the stage invited all the children to the lobby to see the costumes in which the guys came. And even the flashing thought of a clear favorite – a chicken costume – did not spoil the mood for young Anna, she felt so good after the performance.

The rock lady appeared as suddenly as she disappeared. She quickly led the children out of the auditorium into the foyer, where she distributed them just as quickly around the Christmas tree. Anya immediately found Slavik with her eyes – it was impossible not to notice the bright yellow boy sweating under the satin “plumage”. Anna Gennadievna squeezed her way up to Slavik and suddenly clearly remembered her mother’s order “not to leave her brother for a single step.”

Santa Claus made riddles, the children vied with each other shouted out riddles, then there were fun contests, and at the end everyone danced. To the great relief of Anna Gennadievna, the prize for the best costume was not awarded, because Santa Claus liked absolutely all the costumes, and he could not choose the best one. So he invited all the children for gifts. Gifts – paper boxes with ugly painted bears – were handed out by beautiful girls in cardboard kokoshniks.

Having received the gifts, Anechka and Slavik, excited and happy, went out into the lobby, where their mothers were waiting for them. The stubborn Slavik finally freed himself from the yellow “plumage”. Having put on outerwear, mothers tired of waiting and happy children went home. On the way, Anechka told her mother about the cunning fox, the stupid wolf, the treacherous Baba Yaga.

At some point, in her story, a phrase flashed that Anya and her brother were sitting separately in the hall. Mom, with a growing threat in her voice, asked why. And Anechka honestly told how her aunt-“rock” took her and other children to the hall, because they were less than seven years old. Therefore, she sat almost at the very stage, next to the red-haired girl and the pirate boy, and she could see everything very clearly. And the older guys and Slavik were sitting in the back rows.

With every word Anechkina’s mother’s face grew gloomy and took on a stern expression. Pulling her eyebrows together, she said menacingly that she had to stay with Slavik, and for this she simply had to not raise her hand – that’s all. Then they would not have been separated, and she would have sat next to her brother for the whole performance!

Anna Gennadievna was perplexed. She honestly answered that she was not yet seven years old, and that was why she was sitting in a good place almost next to the stage – the younger ones were assigned closer seats. What’s bad about it?

Mom accused Anya of ill-conceivedness (“What a strange word,” thought the girl). The woman continued to reproach her daughter. It turns out that you need to think with your head before doing something (otherwise Anna Gennadievna did not know about this)! This was followed by some stupid example about how everyone will certainly go to jump from the ninth floor, and a rhetorical question: “Are you going to jump too?”

A good mood melted like a popsicle on a radiator. Anya did not want to lose him. I had to make excuses and defend myself, explaining to my mother that honesty is a very good and important quality, and that both mom and dad, and Anechka’s grandmother always said that you need to be honest, and even the pioneers from the fairy tale talked about it.

Therefore, she, Anya, acted honestly, saying that she was not yet seven years old, just like that boy from the story about the word of honor. After all, my mother herself repeatedly set this boy as an example. What was said in that story? “It remains to be seen who this boy will be when he grows up, but whoever he is, you can guarantee that he will be a real person.” Anya really wanted to become a real person, so for a start she became honest.

After such a literary trump card, my mother’s anger subsided, and Anna Gennadievna clearly understood for herself that honesty is a magic wand that extinguishes someone else’s anger.

Years passed. Anya turned into a real Anna Gennadievna. She had a mink coat and a whole department of employees for whom she was responsible.

Anna Gennadievna was a smart, erudite, but insecure, shy person. Speaking two foreign languages, knowing the basics of management, personnel management and accounting, she took all these skills for granted. Therefore, as a matter of course, the number of cases that she performed also grew, while the salary remained the same.

But life is arranged so interestingly that sooner or later it puts everything in its place.

Employees sometimes quit in search of a better job, women got married, men went on promotion, and only Anna Gennadievna did not go anywhere. Or rather, she went to work – every day, as many as five times a week – but this did not lead her anywhere. And even in the end led to a dead end.

The dead end crept unnoticed on a frosty winter day. He pointed out to her that for one salary she does her job, part of the work of Kirill Ivanovich, who has recently been transferred to another office, most of the work of Lenochka, who has married, and a bunch of other small tasks and assignments that she definitely is not obliged to perform. Anna Gennadievna tried to remember when these cases had entered the circle of her duties, but she could not. Apparently it happened a long time ago.

A lump rolled up in my throat. In order not to burst into tears, Anna Gennadievna leaned over and began to tie non-existent shoelaces. But as soon as the head lowered, tears gushed from the eyes, like a stream of water from a broken dam. She felt crushed and shattered, feeling the weight of the piled dead end in her gut.

The absence of Lenochka, Kirill Ivanovich and others turned out to be very helpful. Nobody saw her tears. After crying for exactly 13 minutes, she finally realized that something urgently needed to be changed in her life. Otherwise, the impasse will crush it completely.

Returning home after work, Anna Gennadievna found the phone of a classmate who knew everything because she was married to an investigator.

You need a psychologist urgently! You won’t get out of this hole alone,” the classmate confidently said after listening to Anya’s story of awareness. – My husband had some kind of magician. I’ll send you a business card.

Half an hour later, a photo of a mother-of-pearl business card with the phone number of the magician of human souls indicated its arrival by clicking in the messenger.

The business card read “Stein A.M., hypnotherapist.” “Are you a man or a woman?” Yevstigneev’s voice rang out in his head. “And what, in fact, is the difference …” thought Anna Gennadievna and dialed the number with a trembling hand.

To her great relief, the hypnotherapist turned out to be Alexandra Mikhailovna. “Still, it’s somehow easier with a woman,” Anna Gennadievna thought happily.

On the appointed day and hour, Anna Gennadievna came to the hypnotherapist. Stein was a middle-aged brunette dressed in jeans and a brown turtleneck. Anna Gennadievna even caught some external resemblance to herself, which made her happy.

The hypnotherapist’s office was bathed in subdued light, diluted with the neon-blue glow of an aquarium in which red veiltails swam like small carp. There was a burgundy armchair in the middle of the office. Upholstered with velor. With polished wooden armrests. Honestly!

Stein invited Anna Gennadievna to sit down, pointing to the armchair with her brown sleeve. At that moment, somewhere deep inside either the body or the head – Anna Gennadievna herself did not understand where exactly – there was a click and the top began to unwind. With each turn, some sounds or images bounced off it. They quickly flared up and immediately faded away in the mind of Anna Gennadievna, not giving her the opportunity to realize them. Only the faintest smell of dust tickled his nostrils.

And this happened for some time, until Anna Gennadievna felt the armrests polished by time under her elbows. And she instantly appeared there, on the Christmas tree in the House of Culture back in 1982. Stein was saying something, but Anna Gennadievna did not listen to her, or rather, she heard her, but did not understand, was not aware of her words, or, to be absolutely precise, was aware, but somehow differently. And Stein kept talking, talking, talking… And at some point, Anna Gennadievna began to swim.

She sailed in a yellow satin sea, on the waves of which scarlet foam rubber scallops floated, and these waves smelled of tangerines and pine needles, and on the palms there was a sticky trace of melted chocolate, and in her mouth – its bitter taste … And somewhere in the distance a lonely sail was white, and gradually approaching, it became more distinct and distinct …

And suddenly Anna Gennadievna realized that this was not a sail, but a page torn from a book. And she tried to make out the printed words that formed into sentences. But she could not read them in any way, because the letters danced all the time, changed size and changed places …

Suddenly, a fox with a pioneer tie around his neck emerged from somewhere. She smiled with her painted mustache and jabbed her paw at a word. There was a characteristic sound of tearing paper, and a small piece of the sail, like an autumn leaf, fell at the feet of Anna Gennadievna. “Honestly”. Leonid Panteleev,” she read.

“And the chanterelles took matches, went to the blue sea, lit the blue sea …” – the sail flared up and caught fire, and Anna Gennadievna saw how the flame gradually burned out the words, turning them into ashes … And the ashes turned into clumsy snowflakes that funny pricked Anna Gennadievna in the nose and tangled in the eyelashes …

And under the creak of the January snow, Anna Gennadievna felt like a red veil-tail, similar to a small crucian, softly fingering its veil fin in the neon depths… the blue of the ocean, disappearing there forever…

“Three … two … one,” was heard almost above Anna Gennadievna’s ear, and she immediately wanted to open her eyes. Opposite her, Stein was still sitting, the same muffled light poured around her. Anna Gennadievna stretched herself… and suddenly felt herself smiling. It was strange and unusual. The women talked a little more, having agreed on the next meeting, after which Anna Gennadievna, thanking Stein, left the office.

It got dark outside. It was snowing. Falling snowflakes pricked Anna Gennadievna funny in the nose and tangled in her eyelashes. Those that reached the ground were forever dissolved on gray wet asphalt, from which the sound of heels bounced like a shot. Anna wanted to run and jump, hugging the whole world. She would have done just that if it weren’t for the heels. And then she decided to just stomp her favorite song from childhood with her heels. Moving her words with her lips and tapping out a melody with her heels, Anna Gennadievna moved along the boulevard.

Performing another tread with a turn, she accidentally ran into someone’s back. “Dancing?” asked the back in a pleasant male voice. “Sing!” Anna Gennadievna answered, blushing a little. “Sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose,” she said. “Nothing, everything is in order,” the voice continued, “you danced and sang so contagiously that I really wanted to join you. Do you mind?”

A man and a woman walked along the boulevard, talking and smiling. From the outside, it seemed that they were good old friends who had not seen each other for many years, and now they have something to tell each other about. Their movements were so synchronized and coordinated that it was not clear whose heels made a clicking sound, and only logic suggested that the heels were women’s. The couple gradually moved away into the distance until they were out of sight.

Comment author

Our reaction to words or events depends on our subjective interpretation. Depending on the context in which we place the situation, we make decisions that can determine the future course of life.

The heroine of the story in her childhood made a decision as the only correct strategy of behavior. But there came a time when this strategy stopped working. The heroine was able to overcome the crisis only with the help of Ericksonian hypnosis.

How it works? The task of Ericksonian hypnosis is to eliminate or reduce the negative impact of experienced experiences. Founder Milton Erickson believed: “If there can be phantom pain, then maybe there is phantom pleasure.” During Ericksonian therapy, there is a change in context. Vivid, sensual images evoke positive sensations associated with the experience by activating new neural connections. Focusing on inner sensations makes it possible to reveal the true “I”, which in the normal state is kept within the framework of consciousness.