Fortunately, I expected something like this would happen, so I had contingency plans all ready prepared to bail on the movement at any time and start afresh someplace else.

As one of the most respected members of the movement trying hard not to get involved in back-biting and character assassination, I announced that I was going on retreat, with the ostensible reason of seeking spiritual guidance from my ‛spirit guides’ in resolving the crisis. I wasn’t alone: more than a few others among us undecided Indigo Children were doing essentially the same thing to avoid the crossfire, but they all expected the crisis to dissipate quickly, allowing them to return to their exalted status once the crisis was over, something that eventually landed them all in trouble.

Myself, I aimed for a clean break.

As soon as I left the public eye, I set in motion several events. My business manager would ensure that any money still held in this country would be whisked away to my secret accounts in one of those quaint little Caribbean islands whose banking laws were so simultaneously lax and secretive before any one would be the wiser: he would physically follow the money into a quiet retirement in a villa on some sandy beach there, surrounded by lovely women, safe from any extradition treaties. Any associated incriminating evidence was quietly disposed of by an extremely efficient security service that only cared that they were paid, not about any niceties such as laws or legality. The Amethyst Foundation, my foundation, named in a fit of indulgence, would be absorbed into another, run by a rather clueless Indigo Child whom I had been cultivating for just this purpose, who would inherit all of the problems that would eventually surface. As for my parents, they would become the full beneficiaries of a trust fund that I created years ago and that would withstand any investigations or incriminations, so they could go on with their lives and follow the next great New Age trend: it was all I could really do for them, but they were just about the only people I felt that I owed anything to.

But some things I had to handle personally. I made sure to schedule private audiences with those few close individuals who possessed embarrassing or potentially incriminating information: such information quickly went lost in their minds, replaced with a fervent desire to protect me and my privacy. The same happened to a couple of insistent IRS agents, who were provided such revealing documentation on other Indigo Children and their finances that they totally forgot about me, even without my assistance.

Then just before the eventual complaints and investigations and TV exposes and indictments began to surface, the ethereal appearing Amethyst the Indigo Child, Ascended Master, religious icon or cult leader, depending on who you listened to, made her final public appearance. At the height of the appearance, she would disappear, very publicly and very theatrically, with the aid of some very simple but impressive stage magic techniques and the advice of a very expensive and very well-known stage magician, who was rather amused to assist me even before he found himself drifting into an amethyst sea of hypnotic cooperation. The faithful would believe she returned to the Higher Planes, and the rest of those who cared would think she absconded with the money to live somewhere in Europe or Asia: a very private agency would ensure the occasional sighting of Amethyst the mysterious Indigo Child in sacred places or resort spots throughout the world for the next several years.

And a much older and more sensible adult woman (by five years) named Crystal Windsong would appear, complete with an infallible family history and the best forged identity papers possible, including several appearances by a look-alike stand-in provided by the same private agency over the past few years, including two years of college: my contingency plans have been in the works for a long time. To further complete her identity, I whispered some personal memories of my new identity into the minds of a few key early witnesses. My only regret was the loss of most of the length of my beautiful white hair: it had never been cut, so it flowed around me like a cloud, but now, to preserve my new identity, it was trimmed and styled so that it only went down to my shoulders; at least, if I need some extensions, I will have plenty of material to work with. To disguise my unmistakable amethyst eyes, I now wore a a pair of unnecessary eyeglasses with tinted lenses.

And so I left the Indigo Children behind and was now starting my new life.

College.

I was actually looking forward to it: it certainly was a change from the old routine. It would be so much fun.

I was getting a glass of something non-alcoholic (alcohol didn’t affect me as much as other people, so it was rather pointless to be drinking it) when Becky asked me about Brad and Elizabeth, wondering aloud how they were doing, as it was just about the time Becky normally ended the party. What with all the playtime interspersed with explanations and snacks, I had to admit that I was getting tired and just a little bored with my games this evening myself, so I decided to have one last giant fling before I cut someone out of the herd for some private entranced pleasure later.

I said I would check on them, but I was quite aware of their status, voyeristicly listening for their thoughts through the closed door from time to time: Brad’s ideal woman was pretty pedestrian, which came as no surprise, but Elizabeth’s ideal man was quite the exotic gentleman. I could only hope Brad learned something about women and being a better man and gentleman from the encounter.

“Let me go check on them: they’ve had plenty of playtime.” Everyone chuckled at their own imagination of what they had been doing.

What I found in the bedroom was exactly what I anticipated: Brad and Elizabeth, naked and tangled in the sheets and with each other, both having responded to my whispered post-hypnotic suggestion to go into a deep slumber when they were finished. I leaned over them and whispered into their ears and into their minds, arousing them (in more ways than just awakening them) and entrancing them at the same time.

“Brad, Elizabeth, get dressed,” I said gently to them, and watched as they performed a slow-motion reverse striptease solely for my benefit.

When they were finished, I led them out of the bedroom: having them walk with their eyes blank and their arms outstretched like sleepwalkers was a nice theatrical touch, I thought, and the amused looks and laughs told me the effect was appreciated. I instructed them to sit where they had been sitting. Everyone else in the room was anxiously awaiting what I would do with them next.

But it wasn’t just my entranced puppets that I wanted to work with. No, for my final act of the evening, I would require the attention and entrancement of my entire audience.

“There’s just one more thing that I’d like to say, people,” I said as I looked around the room, getting everyone’s attention with a grand sweeping gesture of my hand. “Sleep!”

I put the strongest whisper to surrender to my hypnotic power into their minds behind my command, but after their experiences in deep hypnosis and their total cooperation I had engendered, it was hardly necessary. Each and every one of them dropped into the deepest trance state possible upon command. It was so gratifying to watch, and it would be more than sufficient for what I was about to do.

I had a wonderful time. It was almost like being an Indigo Child again, this level of power and control over people, the feelings of awe and reverence it engendered. And the fun thing is that they gave it to me willingly, if not knowingly, from the moment I ‛casually’ started the whole evening’s festivities by mentioning hypnosis.

I indulged in a smile as I looked over my entranced victims. They looked so peaceful sitting there, limp, loose and relaxed in deep trance. They had a wonderful time, too, and I was tempted to let them remember it, but I had other plans, especially for Elizabeth and Erik, immediate and long-term, respectively, and therefore, everything about this night was about to be lost to their conscious minds. With some skillful suggestions and directions, they would not consciously remember anything of this evening, not remembering anything I did and everything they did at my command, remembering instead having a number of boring conversations that nobody would quite recollect: imposing blanket group amnesia was a hypnotic skill I definitely needed to practice. However, the knowledge about hypnosis, especially about how powerful hypnosis could be and how powerful a hypnotist I was, and how they all reacted so strongly to it and to me, would remain in the unconscious depths of their minds, ready for me to make use of it again.

That was important, because in a couple of weeks, we’ll do this all over again, from the beginning, and with the same participants but different techniques and different scenarios.

More practice: I’m already looking forward to it. It will be so much fun.