So Nikki was explaining binaurial tones to me, especially in the therapeutic uses in various diseases such as Parkinsons and so on, and that they are often used for relaxation and sleep aids.  He's not really happy with my out there sleeping habits currently, and he's right, I'm needing the pills too often, and my brain is getting stuck in high gear.  So I've been trying them for while, following the instructions, trying to relax, just the tones, the tones with a hypnosis induction, I WANTED this to work dammit...and...they totally don't work for me.  I felt nothing, I wasn't sleepy, I wasn't any more relaxed than just trying to be, there was nothing.  No changes.  They do for him.  And when we were discussing it he mentioned it was kinda close to hypnosis, and I did some research because this was treading something else... Nikki never really knows how the dots connect in my head until the reaction erupts... and it is kinda a similar effect on the brain.  I'd actually been unable to be 'brain tricked' with some light party hypnosis games before...and now this failure of my brain to accept and enter the state...I'm having to come to terms that I might be one of those 3 in 10 people who can't be hypnotized, something about my brain won't do it. 

It led to a surprise breakdown.  (for him, for me this was my first little steps into something I'd been thinking about for a decade) Nikki had no idea that was coming, and was really confused why I was crying because I can't be hypnotized.  But it was the death of a dream that was important to me.  I WANTED to go to hypnotherapy, not for my dismorphia or anything, but because the memories of my grandfather are fading.  Not the life lessons, and that is important, but the DETAILS of them.  I can still tell all the stories in great detail, but when I used to do that, I could smell the places, feel the sun or cold on my skin in my head, hear his voice, and that's all fading like an old photograph.  Which is normal.  But I had this wild hope that I could go to one of those hypnotherapists, and he could take me back to those days and refresh the DETAILS and FEELINGS behind the stories.  Telling them over nad over sort of fixed them in my head like menomics, but it's not holding onto the little details.  I don't remember what Assateague Island smells like anymore, although I spent two weeks on it every summer and those were the best weeks of my life.  I don't remember the colors anymore, or the sounds.  I would spend whatever money the therapist wanted for those memories back, to relive it even just for an hour in my head like I was there again.  No room at this particular inn for Bree.  I will probably go anyway, and I still sit in that chair and put my whole heart into following that voice and the instructions, but it will really hurt to fail.

I didn't call attention to it to Nikki, but when we got robbed and they stole my video camera, they also stole the only tape in existence with my grandfathers voice on it.  And now I can't remember it.  Time steals things.