OUT OF HIS MIND (Hypnotist)

An attractive woman is laughing at my attempt to be serious with her.

I had plenty of practice dealing with this situation in my single days. However, Tessa Cloud is supposed to be going deeper into a trance. I'm attempting to take both her and my other audience volunteer, Katie Glazier, down an imaginary flight of 10 carpeted white stairs. At the bottom is a feather bed, and each step downward should make them feel 100 times more relaxed.

My hypnosis show at Sidebar, 201 N. Third St., is the culmination of a week's training with a 29-year-old Las Vegan who goes only by the name Norann and who bills herself as "the world's fastest female hypnotist." It immediately follows a half-hour performance in which she made four other volunteers act drunk, dance the twist and experience a 7-inch tongue in their seats.

"I remember doing the twist, because she had my eyes open," says volunteer Chris Boadt. "But I don't remember anything else. My friend just showed me a video."

Norann -- who has starred on NBC's "Blind Date" -- requires seven minutes to place audience members under instead of the average 15 to 20.

"We were told by other people that we had to go through all these procedures," Norann said, "but we felt we were able to circumvent them."

Norann -- who refuses to reveal her given last name since having it legally expunged -- was a hairdresser when she ran into magician Brian "The Magic Guy" Campbell, 47, at a bar in Orange County, Calif., five years ago. Struck by her piercing blue eyes, he promised he could train Norann to be a hypnotist.

"I thought, 'Wow, what a great pickup line,' " Norann said.

But Campbell, who is now her husband, was as serious as he was horny. Within two months, Norann starred in her first show (at Funsters Casino near Seattle).

According to Campbell, stage hypnotists working the party circuit typically earn $500-$1,500 per appearance; corporate per-show rates are $3,000-$5,000; and a hypnotist in a major Las Vegas showroom can pull $750,000-$2 million per year.

Campbell says Norann earns $3,000 a show, performing mostly at conventions and other corporate events. Right now, in fact, we're supposed to be onstage at the Bikers Ball at Corporate Catering. But the liquor-license application for the party never got approved, so every single one of the estimated 2,000 bikers who showed up ditched early.

"You have to improvise in this business," Campbell explained, booking a new show at the Sidebar on the fly.

There would be much more improvising for me than Norann, however. Following her midnight performance, 30 of the bar's 50 patrons exited.

"Please stay and see The Amazing Corey," Norann pleaded in vain. (Apparently, generating interest in me is beyond the limit of even the greatest powers of suggestion.)

This left me with no volunteers other than Glazier. (At the last minute, Cloud, a cocktail waitress at the bar, raised her hand. "I felt bad for you," she explains later.)

"The sound of my voice is making you more relaxed," I tell my subjects, even though no female has ever reported this effect before.

Hypnosis is a controversial subject. Proponents claim it's a real state in which the subconscious mind takes control.

"Hypnosis bypasses the critical mind," Campbell said, "and lets you do things you couldn't possibly do in a conscious state -- such as becoming so stiff that someone else can walk on top of you."

Critics, however, claim that control is never completely surrendered.

"There may or may not be some real phenomenon known as hypnosis," says Teller of Penn & Teller. "But it's not something that ever happens on a stage. What happens onstage is a lot of fun and role-playing by folks who like to jump up and down and take off their clothes and want a good excuse for it."

To judge for myself, I asked Norann to hypnotize me when we met. After a few minutes of relaxing suggestions, she described two of my fingers as magnets, and they indeed drew toward one another. She told me it was getting colder in the room, and goosebumps indeed formed.

Yet when she commanded me to sleep, I voluntarily slumped my head down because I didn't want to be rude, open my eyes and tell her she failed.

"That's just what your critical mind was telling you," Norann told me afterward, claiming that I couldn't have opened my eyes if I tried. "There are so many physiological things we saw happening to your body, even though your critical mind was objecting to the fact that you're being hypnotized."

"You were totally under," she said. (I disagree, even if I do cluck like a chicken whenever someone says the word "banana.")

Hypnosis also seems to be happening during my show, but I don't believe Glazier, either. (Attractive blondes who fake things were another field of expertise from my single days.) She slumped down when I touched her shoulder and commanded her to sleep.

Maybe if I had been able to follow the three-page induction script I thought I memorized, I'd be more convinced. But I've been rambling nervously; every other word is "um." My problem is trying to simultaneously recall the script while also thinking of funny stuff to make Cloud and Glazier do once they're under. The only trick in my bag is trying to get two biker guys to kiss.

Yes, by the way, hypnosis can force people to do things they wouldn't otherwise consent to -- at least according to Campbell, who told me the secret is convincing them to consent.

"First, you have to tell one of them they've become the world's most beautiful female porn star," he said. "Then tell the other one he's the most famous stud, and it's time for the make-out scene in their latest movie."

Campbell warned me against the routine, however.

"You remember Altamont?" he asked. (To protect myself, I planned to issue a pre-hypnotic command to my entire biker audience: "You will not stab me for anything that I'm about to make you do.")

Getting two female volunteers to kiss in a bar isn't nearly as funny. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's grounds for a sexual-harassment lawsuit.

As I break off my induction to solicit whispered ideas from Norann, I tell my subjects they've been placed on "hypnotic hold."

That's when Cloud begins giggling. I lose it, too.

At least my hypnosis has caused one imaginary transformation: We're now Tim Conway and Harvey Korman in an unrecoverable "Carol Burnett Show" skit.

Eventually, Glazier starts laughing, too. Soon, in the corner of my eye, I see both Campbell and Norann doubled over. At this point, most of the bar's patrons have stopped paying attention.

Mercifully, Norann steps in to halt the proceedings, and my hypnosis career. Glazier and Cloud needn't even be officially awakened.

On the count of 10, you will believe this was a good article -- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Watch video of Levitan performing hypnosis at www.reviewjournal.com/video/fearandloafing.html. Fear and Loafing runs Mondays in the Living section. Levitan's previous adventures are posted at fearandloafing.com.