In my days as a hypnotherapist (well I did mention I’d had a chequered career) I used time distortion quite a lot. On myself rather than my clients, who were more interested in ego distortion and mind-bending angst than in fiddling with concepts of time. Two jobs, four kids and a long commute made sleeping an afterthought, so the ability to make four hours count as eight was a nifty trick that kept me going for about two years, until my body said ‘to hell with mind over matter’ and the guards got sick of waking me when the train reached the terminus. (Please note – I would never have suggested my clients do anything so clearly ridiculous, but needs must…)
These days I don’t use hypnosis much (I do recommend it, though, for those with lives more stressful than mine), but I still find it invaluable when I’m driving to Sydney. It’s about six hours each way and I do it often, so I know the road better than the back of my hand, which doesn’t rate the same level of concentration.
The Australian bush is infinitely fascinating if you’re close enough to explore its intricacies,
but if you’re whipping past at 100-110kph, it’s a vastness of grey-green nothing-much
that can go on for EVER, which is far too long between coffees. So it’s quite useful to tell my internal clock that the hours to Bulahdelah (Bulla-dealer, half way) will pass in a flash of pleasant music and constructive thought, and that after the requisite (caffeinated) sustenance, I’ll be in Sydney/home before I know it.
This usually works pretty well. It doesn’t compromise my concentration, but I have been known to arrive at either destination with only the vaguest idea of the time it’s taken.
Doesn’t work so well on long-haul flights though. Even hypnosis can’t convince my mind that 24 hours in a tin can is a doddle.