something. Not only that, he hasn't done anything yet. Even if he was standing in the bushes and staring at the kids playing on the slides, that isn't exactly a crime." The cop took a few notes in a little black pad. He lit another cigarette and looked over the top of his Ray-Bans.
The woman stepped back. "I'm telling you this man had death eyes, he's dangerous, I just know it. I just feel it. The thing was, when I looked up the next time, he'd vanished. Then I thought I'd better call the cops. You know how it is, right?" The woman turned to look at her kids who were clambering over some climbing apparatus by a rusty merry-go-round.
"Thanks for calling us, ma'am. You keep a good lookout for your kids, ya' hear. If we find anything we'll let ya know." The cop was already driving out of the park. He felt good in his Ray-Bans.
Harvey was feeling good and when Bishman eventually came round he took him to dinner at a Greek restaurant in Westwood Village, where they talked volubly for over three hours.
Harvey was enjoying his talk as much as the franchisees. He edged his gold-rimmed spectacles up a fraction, pushed back his prematurely gray hair, took a sip of water, and the forty-five-year-old genius began:
"In the last ten weeks you've gone through a whole variety of learning experiences. Today I just want to consolidate a few of the concepts that I and the other hypnotherapists have told you about.
"Today, I'll be touching on rapport, trances, alcohol abuse and reframing. If there's enough time at the end of the session we can bat around a few questions and answers. I'll ask the questions, you give me the answers."
The room filled with spontaneous laughter. They'd grown used to Dr. Bill's humor. Although Bill Harvey was not actually a doctor, over twenty-five years as a practicing hypnotherapist, the title had been endowed and stuck. He'd even given up telling clients and students that he wasn't a doctor. He had, however, probably cured more people of cancer, alcoholism and phobias than anyone else in the world.
"What have you learnt from that last story?" asked Harvey, markedly slowly and deliberately.
A well-dressed man of about forty put up his hand. "I think the most important thing I got out of it, was that when you carry on in that monotone voice I can hardly keep my eyes open. But other than that, yes, I understand fully what you say about reframing." He put his hand down.
"EXACTLY!!!" s houted Harvey, clapping his hands at the same time, and shaking the audience out of their relaxed state, "EXACTLY!!! Half of you have gone into an altered state by listening to that hypnotic drone - and it was my tone of voice that did it, not the actual words I used.
"You can sit here on the rocks as long as you like, feeling the emotions, listening to the voices and looking at the pictures. See if your mind wants to tell you something. Have a look. You can do that now or in your own time. No biggie."
Harvey pressed the 'on' button of his Panasonic cassette recorder as Bishman started his dialogue:
Central Park during the day is one of the most pleasant spots in the world where one finds respite from an incredibly fast-moving city. You go there to get away from the hubbub and anxiety that city life causes.
Lovers stroll hand in hand, tourists gawk, executives and secretaries jog and old people feed pigeons and ducks. People from all walks of life, from all over the world, are drawn there. They eat ice cream, munch trail mix and pistachio nuts, and drink sodas and beers from cans in brown paper-bags.
You can even go for a delightful ride through the park on an old-fashioned horse and carriage. Mind you, if you have romance in mind, make sure you tell the coach driver before you start that you don't want his long-drawn-out verbals about Manhattan, Central Park, the IRA, the IRS, the Dow Jones, the release of Mafeking and the release of hostage Jesse Turner from Lebanon, whose home town is Boise,
The woman stepped back. "I'm telling you this man had death eyes, he's dangerous, I just know it. I just feel it. The thing was, when I looked up the next time, he'd vanished. Then I thought I'd better call the cops. You know how it is, right?" The woman turned to look at her kids who were clambering over some climbing apparatus by a rusty merry-go-round.
"Thanks for calling us, ma'am. You keep a good lookout for your kids, ya' hear. If we find anything we'll let ya know." The cop was already driving out of the park. He felt good in his Ray-Bans.
Harvey was feeling good and when Bishman eventually came round he took him to dinner at a Greek restaurant in Westwood Village, where they talked volubly for over three hours.
Harvey was enjoying his talk as much as the franchisees. He edged his gold-rimmed spectacles up a fraction, pushed back his prematurely gray hair, took a sip of water, and the forty-five-year-old genius began:
"In the last ten weeks you've gone through a whole variety of learning experiences. Today I just want to consolidate a few of the concepts that I and the other hypnotherapists have told you about.
"Today, I'll be touching on rapport, trances, alcohol abuse and reframing. If there's enough time at the end of the session we can bat around a few questions and answers. I'll ask the questions, you give me the answers."
The room filled with spontaneous laughter. They'd grown used to Dr. Bill's humor. Although Bill Harvey was not actually a doctor, over twenty-five years as a practicing hypnotherapist, the title had been endowed and stuck. He'd even given up telling clients and students that he wasn't a doctor. He had, however, probably cured more people of cancer, alcoholism and phobias than anyone else in the world.
"What have you learnt from that last story?" asked Harvey, markedly slowly and deliberately.
A well-dressed man of about forty put up his hand. "I think the most important thing I got out of it, was that when you carry on in that monotone voice I can hardly keep my eyes open. But other than that, yes, I understand fully what you say about reframing." He put his hand down.
"EXACTLY!!!" s houted Harvey, clapping his hands at the same time, and shaking the audience out of their relaxed state, "EXACTLY!!! Half of you have gone into an altered state by listening to that hypnotic drone - and it was my tone of voice that did it, not the actual words I used.
"You can sit here on the rocks as long as you like, feeling the emotions, listening to the voices and looking at the pictures. See if your mind wants to tell you something. Have a look. You can do that now or in your own time. No biggie."
Harvey pressed the 'on' button of his Panasonic cassette recorder as Bishman started his dialogue:
Central Park during the day is one of the most pleasant spots in the world where one finds respite from an incredibly fast-moving city. You go there to get away from the hubbub and anxiety that city life causes.
Lovers stroll hand in hand, tourists gawk, executives and secretaries jog and old people feed pigeons and ducks. People from all walks of life, from all over the world, are drawn there. They eat ice cream, munch trail mix and pistachio nuts, and drink sodas and beers from cans in brown paper-bags.
You can even go for a delightful ride through the park on an old-fashioned horse and carriage. Mind you, if you have romance in mind, make sure you tell the coach driver before you start that you don't want his long-drawn-out verbals about Manhattan, Central Park, the IRA, the IRS, the Dow Jones, the release of Mafeking and the release of hostage Jesse Turner from Lebanon, whose home town is Boise,
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