A Night to Remember

I was 7 in 1958 and my Dad took me to see a movie. It was called “A Night to Remember” - the story of the sinking of the Titanic.

That same night I had a nightmare. I still remember it, 64 years later. In the dream I was trapped with a lot of other children. We were cold, terrified, screaming, clinging to the side of a listing building for our very lives. If we lost balance and fell, there was horror below. One by one we fell and disappeared, leaving behind only strange black shadows that once were ourselves. I woke screaming and with a terror of the sea.

I could not shake the dream and was sure something bad was going to happen. Death was hunting me. There was little sympathy at home.

My little friend Christopher’s mother used to take us to the swimming pool every day that summer and I taught myself to swim. I’d always been too scared before as I expected to drown. But now I knew I had to master this like my life depended on it. My frantic doggie paddles finally enabled me to swim right across the swimming pool. By now I was not so nervous but I continued to carry my fears into adulthood.

Then I was invited on a cruise for a special anniversary. Ten countries in a month. The voyage of a lifetime.

“The boat won't sink!” My husband was exasperated. (I’ve heard that one before I said to myself.) My doctor suggested hypnosis. She said, “It can help with irrational fears.” (Irrational! I don’t think so.)

So here I am at Solace Hypnotherapy. Comfy recliner, subdued lighting, a blanket and a glass of water to hand. After 10 minutes of trying to calm me down, I eventually close my eyes and here's what happened.

Hypnotherapist (H.): Relax and count backwards with me. 101, 100, 99….

Me: 98 97

H: And you feel oh so relaxed.

Me: I feel freezing cold.

(I heard him sigh and turn up the heat. The thud as it kicked in was disturbing.)

H: Now just imagine you are going up a gangplank. You’re going on a cruise. How do you feel?

Me : The same old pain in my stomach, my legs won’t hold me up.

H: Now step off the gang plank, but keep hold of the feeling and start to trace it back, back in time, younger and younger.

(He tapped my forehead)

H: Back and back, you when did you first have that feeling?

Me: When I was 10.

(I start to whimper. H intervenes, sounding worried.)

H: Tell me instead about one of your happiest days. And where are you, Sarah?

Me: Sarah? My name’s not Sarah, silly. My name is Jeanne. Jeanne Lefebvre and I’m 10. We’re going to America on this big ship. Me, my Maman, Ida, Henri, and Mathilde.

H: Why are you going to America? That’s a big adventure for a little girl, Jeanne.

Me: Papa is already there! He went ahead with my sisters and brothers. He’s waiting for us in a place called Mystic. We’re going to have a farm with horses and lots to eat and I will go to school!

H: And what year is it, do you know?

Me: It’s 1912. My big sister Mathilde is 13, Henri is 6 and Ida is 4!

H: You are very clever!

Me: I can write my name too. And read a little bit. I can read the name of the ship, though it’s way up high. Titanic.

Me: (Now out of hypnosis! ) TITANIC! So that’s what this is about? That movie. And who were all those people!

(The hypnotherapist got me back under so we could, he said, just go with it and reach a healing moment. Back to counting.....)

H: Do you remember happy times on your voyage, Jeanne?

Me: Oh yes! Maman says it is the biggest ship in the world! We’re in third class, the tourists are up above us in second, and first is for the real toffs. It’s fun down here though. I run around with the other kids and play on the big open decks, B and D. We play tag and French and English and Bulldogs. Us girls do skipping and hopscotch. I pick up a little bit of English and even German from the other kids. Mama comes up with on the big deck with Ida, she’s so little, and watches out for us, tells us stories and we sing. We’re even allowed once to go in the engine room and see the men, stripped to the waist, singing songs, feeding the ship with coal. The ship is like a hungry monster that you have to feed. Oh it is so hot down there.

And yes, I did climb up a ladder when I ought not. I am not hurt but the steward takes me to the surgery to see the doctor. He speaks French. "Nothing wrong with this girl." He gives me sweets! I remember the taste.

We aren’t allowed in the library or the gym or other fancy places like that. It’s just for the other kids, the ones with lacy, frothy clothes and white gloves. They look down on us from the deck above and stare. Maybe they would like to be having fun running around like us.

We even have our own room and own beds! Can you believe it! Just for the five of us. Our bunks are soft and we eat in the dining room at long tables. You get porridge and eggs and bacon for breakfast, fresh bread and we get fish, rabbit pies and beef stew for dinner. And treacle puddings. And cheese!

We've been on board for 4 nights. Today is Sunday. Day 5. Two more to go! I made a little tiny mark of the days in the wall. Today some groups are singing and praying. It is too cold to play on the deck but we play secret card games which Mama doesn’t allow to do on Sundays usually. Mama has some sewing and she shows us how to darn the holes in our clothes so we will look presentable when we meet Papa. People will say we are a fine family! All eight of us.

H: That was a happy time. And now we are going back to the scary feelings. These are memories. They cannot harm you in anyway. Imagine there are scenes you observe and you can return to normal waking consciousness at any time.

Me: Yes.

(Listening to the recording later, I sound terrified.)

H: Sarah, what happened to that little girl, Jeanne on Sunday night. Night five.

Me: Jeanne is telling me. She’s showing me! The steward bangs on our cabin door and says in English but the changes to French. "Get off the ship if you don’t want to drown!"

"Listen!" said Maman. It has all gone is silent. No engine noises. "Put on all the clothes you have," said Maman. "It’s cold out there. It's probably just a drill to practice."

I dress myself, then Henri. He and Ida started crying at being woken. People were shouting, frightened voices in the corridor. Is it a drill, in the middle of the night? Mama grabs lifebelts in the cabin. They are too big for Henri and Ida.

In the corridor, we join families, like us, mothers with children or single women, on their way to start a new life. We stand along the corridor from the bottom of the stairs going up to the decks above. In front of us are the Irish girls, always such a laugh, usually singing and dancing, but not tonight.

The corridor is even more crowded now as the men who stay in cabins in the bow of the ship are running to reach the stairs that go up to the boats. The steward shouts and explains in three languages. “We hit an iceberg. The ship is letting in water. We have to get off.”

How could it be possible? Some people say that it can’t be true. Mama tells us, "Don’t be afraid, we will be safe soon."

But I could always tell when Mama was being untruthful, like at home when she said she wasn’t really hungry, just so there would be enough food for the children.

The crew man has to take us passengers up in groups. No one in third class would know their way through the corridors and stairs of this enormous ship. You would be lost in minutes which I know from experience. But them I am a wanderer.

Then suddenly the ship starts to tip. People fall over, grab on to each other. There is screaming and moaning. It is a long time but the crew man comes back for the next group.

He takes them and we now all move forward. Our turn will be next. When he comes back. But he doesn’t come back.

The ship tilts some more. We hear shouts further down the corridor. The sea! It’s coming in. It is flowing towards us and it’s fast. My mother holds Henry up as high as she can. Give me Ida, she tells me. Climb up the stairs she tells Mathilde and me. The sea is so cold it cuts me like razors.

The Irish men are hoisting their women up to the next deck, up and over the stairs, making room for us. Mathilde has my hand and we push and climb up so that we are still dry. The water keeps on coming.

I was small and strong but I lose my grip on my sister's hand. I chase after her, up the stairs. The gates between decks for once are open. I go up more stairs, a long way, to the open deck. I see people in their evening clothes or night gowns, some with lifebelts. I hear music playing like a party. Someone is crying, someone makes a joke and there is laughter, then the funnels roar and hurt my ears. I see the steam shoot out of the funnels into the starry sky.

I know I can try to find my way to the boats. First the library then past the surgery up more stairs and I reach the first class boat deck. No one takes any notice of a third class girl in first class any more. Frantically I call Mathilde. Can we go back for Mama and the others now we know the way? But she doesn't come to find me.

"Women and children only!" I hear. There are only two lifeboats left and they are filling up so fast. One of the crew fires a shot in the air and points his gun at men in the lifeboat so they get out and let more women and children in.

The deck is covered with shards of ice. The ship lists again. There is no time left to get Maman. The deck slides out from under me. I fall into blackness.

********

In time, my hypnotherapy worked and we did go on our cruise.

But what really happened to me? Was I Jeanne? Did I heal a past life trauma? Or was it a post movie trauma? How did I know about the Lefebvre family? How did I know their story, that Jeanne was among the 53 children who died on the Titanic, 52 from third class? I can't tell you.

What is the fascination we still hold for this tragedy? Perhaps it resonates with our belief that we can outwit nature, be stronger than a tempest, rise above flood, corral and control fire. We believe we can take all from the Earth yet she will still provide. Are we on the Titanic right now, totally naïve, totally sure than we cannot sink, as all the while we sail full speed into disaster?