No. You hear everything, you can stop at any time, and nothing happens that you do not agree to. All hypnosis is self-hypnosis. You do not lose control in trance; you learn to use it.

Nothing bad. The worst case is that you drift into a nap and wake up the ordinary way. In every session I bring you back gently, and you can bring yourself back whenever you choose.

Done well, hypnosis is gentle, and the usual worst outcome is that nothing changes. It is training, not medical care. If you are under a provider's care for what you want to work on, I need their written referral first.

That is not something I do. Memory is less reliable than most people think, even without hypnosis, and what comes back can be shaped by the questions asked. My work looks forward: the moment you are preparing for, not digging up the past.

Most people can. Children drift in and out of trance all day; call one in for dinner and see how long it takes. Adults keep plenty of that ability, and it can be measured on a simple zero to ten scale. You do not have to be a special kind of person. You only have to be willing.

Think of a movie so good you forget you are watching one. That is the doorway. Hypnosis is three things working together: your attention narrows to one point, everything else fades into the background, and for a while you get to try on a different way of being. Focus, a quieter world around you, and room to change.

Three shifts. The part of you that scans for danger and distraction turns down, so small noises stop pulling you away. The part that plans and directs takes the wheel. And the inner voice that keeps replaying who you think you are gets quieter. That quiet is why change becomes possible. Stanford has watched all three happen live on fMRI, the brain scan that shows which parts of the brain are working hardest from moment to moment.

It does. Some voices pull you in and some push you away. That is why the first thing I send you is a free recording in my voice, so you can decide for yourself before we ever meet.

Yes, and it is the work I love most. Stanford tells the story of swimmers who were faster in practice than in meets. In practice they stayed with their own bodies; in meets they watched the lanes beside them. Once they trained themselves to stay with their own stroke, the meet times came down. That is the skill I train: attention that stays where you put it.

It can, and the method is simple. Instead of fighting the seat, you float with the plane. You treat the plane as an extension of your body, the same way a bike or a car is. And you learn to separate what is possible from what is probable: the picture your mind paints is vivid, but vivid is not the same as likely.

I work on what you are for, not what you are against. Tell a mind not to think of a purple elephant and a purple elephant is all it sees. So we build something that feels good from the first session: respect for your own body, and a cue that serves you instead of the old one.