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The session started with darkness and a sense of real terror.  I seemed to be in a barn, locked in and gradually I became aware that I had been locked in as a punishment, for some trivial misdeed, I only say this because I also felt a sense of how wrong this punishment was, the terror of the dark space and loneliness and for something which did not merit this level of fear.  The hypnotherapist did not want this session to be one of ‘therapy’ but simply of exploration, so she moved me on and from this point it got much better – joyful in fact.

It was a wedding and I appeared to be the father and it was my daughter who was the bride.  I seemed to be someone of minor importance in this village because the unpaved street was lined [if that is the right word because there weren’t that many people] with people all cheering happily and throwing flowers at this very pretty blonde girl.

She had a sort of cream muslin dress on and had a garland of flowers in her hair.  She wasn’t on my arm, so I guessed it must have been after the wedding, but I can only express the feeling that my heart was full – full of happiness, pride for her, joy at the warmth of the people and their joy for her.  By my side was my wife, a plump little body trotting by my side, it is odd but there is no sense of recall here, I could form no image of what she looked like, just a sense that all was right between us, she was just there, a homely body who looked after everyone.  Given I am female this was indeed an odd feeling, knowing what it is like to be a man and how you see your wife is truly weird.

At the end of this street was a small wooden church, and we were actually coming from it.  I only caught glimpses of it when I turned round; it looked white washed – well lime washed anyway rather than painted.  The only church I have seen that came anywhere near to this design was one I saw in pictures of Denmark, so presumably this might have been in Denmark, though I suppose the design might be more Scandinavian so it could have been somewhere in Scandinavia.  No hills or mountains though, all flat and green, so Denmark seems more likely.

This has some fascination for me as I have traced my ancestors back to Finland and Denmark, so maybe genes carry some sort of memories with them, it would have been from my mum’s side if they had.

The whole experience from this point was really one of the procession from one end of the village to the other, with some sort of crude music in the background, people coming up and kissing my daughter and giving her flowers and this vague memory of a young man by her side.  I suppose all my thoughts and love were for her and he was just a nice lad who had made her happy so didn’t figure as strongly in my thoughts.

It was interesting because she gained a bouquet as she went, she didn’t start with one.

That was all really, the session ended as it all faded away as we got nearer some sort of low thatched building – that now that I have thought about it – might have been the village hall – but there was no sense of recall after that, it all faded away.