Free Your Eyelids Are Growing Heavy by Barbara Paul

wondering who it was.”
    Megan was looking at him strangely. “What are you talking about, Gus? I didn’t answer the phone. It didn’t ring.”
    Oh wow. Oh wow . Gus felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He floundered after something to say. “Thin walls again, I guess. I must have heard the phone next door—I thought it was here.”
    Megan didn’t quite believe his explanation, but she accepted it. Nothing else she could do. Strange.
    Snooks came back from the bedroom. “All right, let’s get started. Both of you take a seat.” She noticed how Gus automatically headed toward the largest piece of furniture in the room and then perched on the edge. Megan moved just as automatically toward an armchair. Satisfactory; Snooks herself would sit on the sofa with Gus.
    They got down to the main business of the evening. Gus watched fascinated as the psychiatrist arranged the lights just so, made sure Megan was comfortable, and started her incantation.
    Megan went into a trance almost immediately. By now the procedure was so familiar to both women that only a few key phrases were needed to bring about the desired state of relaxation. Snooks had been right: Megan looked as if she were just resting.
    Then the question-and-answer period began, and Gus’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. Under hypnosis, Megan Phillips had almost total recall. He listened to her describing in detail what he himself had been wearing the Sunday she came limping home from the golf course. But of the weekend itself—nothing. Not one word.
    â€œI don’t know,” Megan said without any sign of inner disturbance.
    Snooks felt the usual letdown that came when they reached this stage. She hadn’t really put any faith in the familiar-environment approach, but there was always a chance. It was the last thing she could think of to try before giving credence to an unpleasant possible explanation that had occurred to her. She brought Megan out of her trance.
    Megan didn’t have to ask; their faces told her the experiment had failed. Oddly, she felt compelled to try to soothe them . “In case anyone’s interested, I’ve decided I can live with not knowing why I blacked out. We gave it a good shot. It’s not so terrible. It hasn’t happened again and …” She trailed off when she realized Snooks wasn’t listening.
    Snooks was trying to think of a tactful way of telling her; but since diplomacy had never been the psychiatrist’s long suit, she settled for her usual head-on approach. “Megan, listen carefully. There is an explanation for what happened. I don’t know if it’s the right one, but every time we go through this song and dance I have to consider it a little more seriously. You aren’t going to like it. Here it is—I think you were hypnotized before you ever came to me.”
    A beat, then Megan and Gus both said “What?”
    It wasn’t easy. “What’s more, I think you’re under the influence of posthypnotic suggestion right now.” This time neither of them said a word; they just stared. “I could be wrong—there are no tests I can run, no way to check up. But what I think we’ve got here is an example of the law of temporal precedence.”
    Megan was frowning. Gus said, “Can you explain?”
    â€œThe law of temporal precedence states that when all other things are equal—the subject’s physical condition, the depth of the trance, and so on—well. If all these things are the same—when two antagonistic suggestions are given, the subject will follow the first suggestion and ignore the second. In other words, if someone put you into a deep trance and planted the suggestion that you wouldn’t remember anything that happened during the weekend, then my later suggestion that you could remember wouldn’t even get through to you. You see?”
    â€œMy god,”