Dead Again Page #2

We're talking one night|at the most here.

That's my f***ing cookie, b*tch!|That's my cookie!

Give it to me! Give it to me!

- It's not my problem!|- Take her to the hospital.

- I took her. It was terrible.|- We cannot deal with her.

I'm sure you'll find this place|almost as nice as County Hospital.

My goodness!|The maid hasn't been.

I'm sure you won't be stuck here|too long.

This place was spotless|when I left it a year ago.

Somebody's going to see|your picture in the paper and

they'll come find you|and you'll know what your name is.

It's OK.|Can I get rid of this for you?

Relieve you of hospital life.|Are you faint?

You're hungry, right?|You haven't eaten all day.

If you get hungry,|the fridge is there.

Trudy, it's 10:
00, for Christ's sake!|Will you shut up?

We're friends. Music, I love it.|But her music? No.

The bedroom's in here.

The bathroom's here.|The closet's there.

There's a sweatshirt|in the bottom drawer,

in case you want|something to sleep in,

and some old clothes|if you want to change in the morning.

Help yourself.

That's a beauty, isn't it?

The desk and bookcase in there|are from the same period.

Good night.

Welcome to...

"The desk and bookshelf in there|are from the same period."

What an a**hole!

These are for you.

What's going on? Open the door!

Take it easy.

You're OK. It's OK. Take it easy.

I'm not telling you anything.|You tell me what her ring looks like.

A coiled serpent.

Skull and crossbones? Yeah?

Matches the tattoo?|Thanks for calling, Floyd.

The entire male|population of LA's checked in.

This is better than video dating.

- Excuse me, Mr Church?|- Yeah. Can I help you?

Actually, I'm here to help you.

Who are you supposed|to be, her grandfather?

Not her grandfather,|nor her grandmother, for that matter.

In fact, I'm no relation at all.|My name is Franklyn Madson.

That's a very handsome chair.|That's a Heywood-Wakefield.

I'll give you $45 for that right now.

It's a Stickley, worth $250.|What can I do for you?

A glass of water would be lovely.

Your stairs are rather steep.|The long climb's worn me out a bit.

I see cases like this all the time.

A person experiences a trauma

and they want to erase it|from their minds.

The trouble is, they erase|everything else along with it.

- You a shrink?|- No, not exactly.

I'm a hypnotist.

Here's the water, there's|the door. Sorry about the stairs.

Tastes a bit like bourbon.

It's simply a matter of regressing|the young lady back to a happier time

and then asking her who she is.

Your hand is feeling|very light, my dear,

so light that I'm afraid|if I were to let go of it,

it would just float up,|all on its own.

- Who gave you permission?|- No.

She's perfectly all right.|Continue to relax, my dear.

Tell yourself|you're going deeper and deeper

into a state of hypnosis. That's it.

That's right.

That's very nice.

Good.

My dear, let us go back.

Tell me, has something...

Somebody help me!

- Is she still under?|- No.

What made you scream?|Can you talk now?

At least we know she does talk.|Rather well, in fact.

How do you feel?

I'd say she was feeling better.|Splendid.

You could come by my shop tomorrow|afternoon and we can try again.

I shall need several hours|but the surroundings there will be...

You did great, she spoke,|but I don't have the money...

No. It will cost you nothing,|Mr Church.

We'll deal with her family|when we find them.

I'm sure they'll find my services|invaluable

once they realise I'm the one|who's reunited them with their...

daughter, wife, or whomever.

You have some lovely things. Pity...

I bid you all good day.

You missed something around the back.|Do you want to put your head down?

I'll get you a towel.

Madson?

You were inside|President Roosevelt's office?

Yes, lots of times.

My mommy was his cook.

We were like family.

I used to sit on Uncle Teddy's lap.

- I liked that.|- I'm sure Uncle Teddy did, too.

Mrs Tepper,|on the south wall of that office,

there was a lacquered mahogany desk.

Yes, I remember.

What did President... ?

What did Uncle Teddy do with it?

He gave it to Emily Maxwell,|his personal secretary.

- Where did Mrs Maxwell retire to?|- Tucson, Arizona.

I'm going to count to three,

at which point you'll be wide awake,|quite refreshed,

and you'll remember nothing|of our little discussion.

One, two, three.

How did I do?

I don't think you'll need to worry|about those silly chocolate cravings.

Mother, turn that down, please.

I thought today,|since this is our first real session,

we'd just go for an hour or two.

As soon as you feel|quite comfortable, my dear,

I want you to take a look|at the candle in front of you.

I want you to stare at it. Good.

I want you to picture yourself|walking down a flight of stairs.

With each step,|you'll relax still further.

And as you go down,

I want you to tell yourself,

"I am going deeper and deeper

into a state of hypnosis."

Since yesterday|you became a bit excited,

today I want you to distance yourself|from the events you're watching,

as if you were only a witness,|not an actual participant.

If you do happen to notice|any nice little relics

or objets d'art along the way,|you might just mention them, too.

For Christ's sakes.

At the bottom of the stairs,|I want you to picture a door.

This door is very important,

because just beyond it lies|whatever time or place

from your life you wish to visit.

All right, the door has opened.

You can speak, my dear.|What was the happiest day... ?

- The day we first met.|- Distance yourself.

The day Roman and Margaret first met.

Margaret?

- That's right.|- Margaret who?

- Mr Church...|- Strauss.

All right, let's go back to the day|Margaret and Roman first met.

How far back are you? Two years?

Three years? A year?

It was 1948.

I think I've heard enough.

Mr Church, I really must insist|that you refrain from talking.

The lady just told us she met a guy|named Roman in 1948.

- I say the session's over.|- On occasion, Mr Church,

hypnosis can take us back to our past|lives as well as our past.

You expect me just to run with that?

Let me remind you, yesterday|this young lady wasn't even speaking.

Rachmaninoff was|on the program that night.

Wait for me, my dear.

When was this?

Winter 1948.

Roman was guest conductor|with the Los Angeles Symphony.

Everyone was terrified of him,

except Margaret.

It was after the war,

and Los Angeles was so exciting.

Everywhere you went,|people were having fun.

I'm sorry.

To Margaret, a woman|with more beauty than grace.

Thank you very much.

Roman could dance.

He could tell jokes.

He could even read palms.

Not much of a life line, I'm afraid.

But wait. I do see love.

Passionate, everlasting, love.

- Does this work on a lot of women?|- I'll let you know.

Margaret's career was flourishing,

and Roman was confident|that his new opera

would make him as famous in America|as he had been in Europe.

I heard you were once married.

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