Mind bondage-2
I must have been the last one to be picked up, as all but two of the seats were filled with women who looked like I felt. I assumed the empty driver’s seat was for Pamela, and took the empty front passenger seat beside her. Pamela took the cash I was still clutching from my hand and smilingly placed it into a deposit bag.
“Alright ladies, our next stop is the workshop location. Being out in nature is the only way to get back to your natural sleep rhythms, so the drive will be about two hours from here. For now, enjoy yourselves, talk, relax, sleep if you can, and I’ll put on some soothing nature sounds for us all to enjoy,” Pamela spoke with authority now, none of the sprightliness coming through in her official announcement. She touched a button on the dash and the, to me, highly irritating sounds of nature began to play.
I never liked listening to the nature sounds CDs, in part because they felt fake to me, and in part because the idea of trying to force relaxation on myself rubbed me the wrong way. This one was no different from any other I’d ever overhead and I wanted to talk to Pamela instead.
However, she looked utterly absorbed in her task of driving, which made me feel disinclined to disturb her. Instead I turned to look at the other insomniacs. They all looked… the same. Haunted eyes, make-up barely making a dent in the dark circles under their eyes. Different hair colors, skin tones and clothing, but it was as if they were all based on the same template of sleeplessness. I am sure I looked no different, but I couldn’t see myself to compare.
No one was talking, most were staring out the windows. I saw one woman jerk up in a familiar motion. I knew just what it felt like to do that fall-asleep-wake-up thing, and now I got to see how I looked to others. No wonder I got so many pitying looks.
I turned back to the front and looked out the windows as the nature sounds played on and the scenery rolled by. We were headed out into the forest and I hoped that the facilities wouldn’t be too primitive. I hadn’t even thought to ask about that. I was too desperate for a cure to care at the time, but now I was fiercely hoping for flush toilets.
I nodded off for a few minutes during the ride, but most of it was just spent looking at trees and listening to ocean waves. I had no idea where we were, other than in a forest on a road that hardly deserved the appellation. I now didn’t want to disturb Pamela for fear that she would crash if she took her attention off the road.
The fear of going off the road and flipping over and dying kept me wide awake for the last half hour of the ride, so I got to see the workshop facility as we drove up. A cluster of cabins surrounding a barn-like structure, all made of wood, were in the middle of a cleared area. I could see a water pump, and I hoped it was merely decorative.
The cabins did at least look clean in the waning light, and the clearing wasn’t overgrown though it was natural looking. Pamela pulled up close to the barn-like structure and stopped the van. The abrupt end of the nature sounds got everyone’s attention.
Pamela turned and addressed the group. Sitting in the front passenger seat, I felt a bit left out of her attentions as she explained that she would be taking our bags to our assigned cabins and that we should proceed into the central meeting room where Mr. Mendoza would be waiting for us.
Doors popped open and we all trooped out through open wooden double doors to what appeared to be a single large room inside the “barn.” I felt myself relax at the sight of carpets and cushions in cool soothing colors arranged in various sized groupings. There was a sideboard laden with food and several urns, probably coffee though I didn’t smell any. There was a central light hanging down and brightly illuminating only the center of the room, which would explain why I didn’t notice Mr. Mendoza in the back of the room until he stepped forward and greeted us.
“Welcome ladies. For the first part of our retreat, we will be in a large group. Please find your name card and have a seat here,” he gestured to a semi-circle of cushions and trays directly under the light.
Looking at him, a cliché came to mind immediately. He was tall, dark and handsome. His voice had a light trace of an accent, but was clear and articulate. It was the kind of voice that a news anchor might have, authoritative, persuasive and trustworthy. For the first time, I really believed that this might have been a good idea.
There were eight of us insomniacs, and nine cushions set up. I felt distanced again when I discovered that I was seated at the far left on the other side of Pamela, according to the name cards. We sat, and Mr. Mendoza stood at the center of our semi-circle. Pamela slipped in beside me before he began to address us again.
“Now, I know that all of you are here because you refuse to become dependent on drugs for the natural process of sleep. I commend you all, and I believe as you do, that sleep should be natural. For some reason, each of you has forgotten how to find your sleep. Your minds are refusing to allow your bodies the sleep that they know how to get. To that end, we will be taking a ‘drug’ this evening, but not one that will force us to sleep. Instead we will be drinking this herbal tea that will put off our bodies need for sleep. We are staying up all night tonight.”
His words were compelling, and I found myself agreeing. What better way to reset our sleep schedules than to really break them off and start fresh? Pamela brought over a teapot and poured everyone a cup.
“You can drink as much of this as you like, but you should drink at least one cup every two hours in order to stay completely awake,” Pamela explained as Mr. Mendoza stood back and sipped at his own cup.
“Now, for introductions. My name is Hector Mendoza, and I must insist that you all call me Hector,” he said as Pamela finished pouring. “I have a degree in naturopathic medicine with an emphasis in sleep studies. I have been holding these retreats for five years now, and I haven’t had to issue a refund yet,” he continued with a smile. “You all have different reasons for being here, and we will get into them tonight, but for now please just state your first names. Let’s start over here,” he pointed at the woman on the other end from me.
As the women to my right stated their names I found myself zoning out. I realized I needed to start drinking the tea, and managed to get the cup to my lips just as it was my turn to state my name. I gulped, sputtered, turned red in the face and spoke my name three times before it came out clearly.
Hector smiled at me anyway, and I felt a rush of a different kind of warmth. I firmly attributed it to the gulp of tea and paid attention to Hector’s lecture. He was talking about different reasons that we learn how not to sleep and the various things in our modern culture that contribute to insomnia.
I listened to his words, but I was also preoccupied with how awake I felt. It had been a long time since I had felt anything but tired. Now, my mind was calm and alert; my body felt relaxed but also ready. Hector’s words made sense to me, and I could see the other women nodding as well. We were all interested; we all agreed.
There were no clocks, and, per the instructions, I wasn’t wearing my watch. I had no idea how much time was passing. At one point Hector invited us to go get some food, and to continue to do so as the we felt the need. I reveled in how delicious the strawberries tasted. They were perfectly ripe, sweet and juicy. Practically orgasmic.
Where had that thought come from?
Hector began to ask us questions. What did we think about when we tried to sleep? When had our insomnia started? He skipped randomly through the group, not letting anyone talk for longer than it took to answer his question. I found myself revealing that I hadn’t had sex for months. No answer was lingered on, we simply spoke and then he asked another question.
I found myself feeling as if the words the other women spoke were my own. Their answers were so similar to what I myself would have said. I realized that we were all related in a way. We had a common culture and a common reaction to it.
“Julie, how have your masturbation habits changed since your insomnia?” Hector asked. I froze at the mention of masturbation. To me, it was one thing to talk about sex in a vague way, but to talk about sex with oneself was wrong. I never even liked to think about the fact that I had ever masturbated, even when I was doing it. I felt myself withdraw internally.
“Well, I used to masturbate regularly, but not a lot. Now, I find myself lying awake in bed and just touching myself. The weird thing is that it doesn’t feel good anymore,” Julie answered without a trace of self-consciousness. My discomfort increased at her matter-of-factness. Even though Hector turned on to other subjects, I still felt stiff and awkward.
The talking session, as promised, went on all night. I never felt as connected as I had before the things turned so frankly sexual though. I felt aloof from the group. It was as if I could see them all bonding, shutting me out in the process. I kept drinking my tea to stay awake and answered questions when I was asked. I got caught up in dreading being asked something so sexual that I wouldn’t be able to answer, but somehow Hector never asked me those questions.
“We have been awake, aware and alert all night ladies. We have discovered that we are not so alone as we might have thought. Each of you has discovered that it is our modern culture that causes us to forget how to sleep. Today we will have some group activities outdoors as well as some one-on-one sessions. Feel free to talk with each other and counsel each other. You all know how to sleep; help each other relearn.” Hector finished speaking and walked to the back of the room, disappearing into shadows.
