Bonus Episode: Mr. Well, A Relaxation Tape

Relaxation Tape No. 1. Relax. 

DISCLAIMER:

This is not a real relaxation tape. While some may find it relaxing, others may find it anything but. 

Transcript

Wellness 

MR. WELL: (With incredible tenderness and sensuality. In the manner of a relaxation tape) Lie back. Lie back. Feel yourself drifting, endlessly, on a wide, rose-coloured sea. So calm. You are going nowhere. You just…are. You need neither water, nor sustenance. There is no danger. Wow. Good job.

Now allow yourself to fall. Allow yourself to become the water beneath you. There is no danger. Just stop breathing and turn blue. Wow. Good job. (Staccato) Just let go. You are descending, on your back, to the deep.

Wave hello to all your friends. The moon-eyed fishes. A big sticky squid. Wow. An angler fish. Wow. A sea horse. Something undiscovered by science. Coming towards you. Forget him. Forget science. Lie back. Fall. Become the water. You are blue.   

You are falling a very long way. Nothing is going to hurt you. There are no boulders or stones or sharp ledges. There are no aeroplanes this high. Weren’t expecting that were you? You’re not underwater, under sea level. You’re high. High as a kite, higher. Clouds clouds everywhere. The sea I was just talking about is actually the sea that lies like a blanket upon the entire universe. No-one but you has ever seen it shimmer. You’re now falling, through the universe, through this timeless sea, down fathoms, fathoms. You pass entire galaxies, faroff supernovas, soundless hypernovas, benevolent whorls of light that just snore or wave hello. There are no asteroids. Just satellites, beeping, serenely circling the earth. They won’t hurt you.

Imagine you are lying on your back, or on your front, spread-eagled somewhere on the body of a great blue whale. He is taking you down, down, through the cosmos. Nothing is going to hurt you. Not anymore. There is nothing but endless cloud. Endless softness. You are caressed all over by the kindest, warmest hands. You have never felt more loved. You are held in protecting hands. You are stuffed. You are a stuffed animal. No dreams, no memories, no aspirations. You are a happy teddy bear, falling through space, through time. History hasn’t happened yet. So many good things are in store for humanity. The earth is beneath you. It churns. But you are aware of nothing. You are utterly comatose. You are mindless, drugged. You are bound. You are on the operating table. You are in the merciful hands of a good doctor, a true healer. You look up, anesthetised. He is taking all the proper precautions. His mask and his goggles put you at ease. They call Ignatius- his name’s Ignatius- they call him the shaman.  Shaman Ignatius. The procedure has been nothing but a success. You’re ready. 

Breathe

(Phlegmy rattling breath)    

You are lifted, like a little baby, from the soft cradle of the cosmos. Holding you in his huge, calm hands, Shaman Ignatius carries you away and places you on a quiet beach, in the soft, golden sand. Shaman Ignatius has only one rule. You must call him Daddy. He’s not really your daddy. He’s not much like your daddy. He’s better. He’s fully trained. His hands are tools, not body parts. The beach is quiet. So quiet. Just you and daddy. On the beach. Gulls caw. White crows. Sea crows. Rotten chips slip down their gullets. They cry. Daddy swaddles you in the sand. He fashions you a sarcophagus out of the sand. He folds you into the sand. You are encased in the bosom of the beach. Right up to your neck.

The sand is so soft. You stretch out on the sand. You can hear the tender lap of the sea. (Pianissimo) Whoooosh!  The waves are caressing you. A soft cacophony…a thousand thousand laughing, lisping little voices.

But where is daddy in all this? Where has he got to, having placed you here, having laid you to sleep on the sand of this beach. This lonely beach. Where is it? Yes, Scarborough. There’s a man with the tiniest, tiniest eyes…he’s eating chips, with a chip fork. Oops! He’s dropped his saveloy. He’s livid. There’s an ice cream van over there. The man selling them has a very large face. Later on, you and daddy will both have ice creams, together. Walking along the promenade’s a bloke who needs thirty quid for the train. He’s had his card pinched by muggers. He needs to get down to Thanet to see his daughter. He is a good father.     

But where’s daddy in all this? He’s skinny dipping. He’s left you all alone on the beach. You are wearing almost nothing. He has buried you in sand. The sand is so soft against your skin. Ah! You are awake now. Watch me, daddy shrieks. Wow. He is good at the butterfly. Congratulations, daddy, you think.

Oh dear, the ice cream van has driven away. Never mind. You are so relaxed. You are at such ease, with yourself, with daddy, with the pervading tendrilled earth-mother squirming beneath the sand, and with the vast grey sky-god who watches over you. You are at ease with your body, in your body. You’ve been gaining weight. Now, the pounds are gently falling off, falling away. You are cocooned in warmth. In the sand-coffin daddy has placed around you. Up to your neck. Daddy is doing handstands, in the water. Soon, it’ll be kite-flying time. You wanted to fly Violet. But daddy has only brought Gordon, the box kite. Gordon the box-kite is much better than Violet the other kite. Daddy is always right.

Breathe. Wow. Breathe…

(Claggy, unhealthy breath issues)

Gaunt, unsteady steps are stepping towards you. You try to see who it is. But you can’t crane your neck, turn your head. I’ll tell you who it is. It’s a woman, an old woman. She is comfortable in her wrinkled skin. This is a progressive beach. There are no judgments here. All is quiet. The woman sheds her garments, her undergarments. She lets it all hang out. She is ninety-six. She looks great…topless. This is a cool place.       

You are a calm, serene creature. You are emptied, emptied out, emptied of all impulsivity, all urgency. You no longer have any reproductive capacity. You’re a supine eunuch. You’ve never been fertile. You are a soft, plump, asexual ball. No-one has ever had their way with you; no-one will ever have their way with you. Not one person in all the big wide world desires you, or will ever desire you. You’ve never felt more relaxed. You could stay like this forever, listening to water, to daddy, skinny dipping, saying Look at me! look at me! look at me! You love the soft, sane lap of the waves. This beach is so deserted. That sea-holly cluster is sharp. Beware, the sea-moan cautions, the sea-boom sings. Beware.

You have fallen from nowhere, like an angel. Wise and gentle forces have delivered you to this beach, have shown you the way, from the void where you were born, to the beach. You are somewhere. You are amazing. You are special. You are incredibly small.

Breathe. (Breathes)

You can’t see this, but the topless ninety-six-year-old woman is doing her yoga. She is so bendy. She is doing table like a pro.

Daddy wriggles into his custom-made bathrobe. It resembles a lab-coat but is made of towel material. Daddy is stinging all over from the sea. You are so relaxed that you can’t even stay awake. You drift in and out of consciousness. You are a colour you have never been before. You look almost deceased. Daddy takes a small mirror from his wash bag and puts it at your lips. You are still breathing. Phew!

Daddy wakes you up. Wake up, princess. Pssst. Wake up. Wake up, he whispers, breathing all over you. His breath smells terrible. You wake up. At these close quarters, you realise that daddy has a distinctive smell. Tobacco. Garlic. Something you can’t name. Old spice. Time, he utters, to fly Gordon the box kite. And to get some ice cream. So long at the van comes back.

What a day. Everything is going to be fine. You remind me of Jesus. There is nothing to be afraid of. They are going to fade me out now. You don’t need me anymore. I can’t be with you anymore. But I love you. Baby, I love you. You have no sexual characteristics, neither primary nor secondary. You are neither female, nor male. You have never gone through puberty. You are utterly androgynous. You are not even human. You are neither mineral, vegetable, nor animal. You defy description. You are falling back to sleep. You remind me of Kevin from Home Alone. You remind me of Bambi. You remind me of Pinnochio…  it’s your moment. Was that a seal? Lie back. Gordon the box kite’s blown away. Lie back. Sit up. Sit up. You need to sit up. Shaman Ignatius. (Sneeze) He sneezed! You need to wake from the dream. You…