The French Chef Who Felt Like a Woman Was Clinging to His Back

Earlier today, while speaking with one of my longtime clients, I suddenly remembered another client from years ago.

“How is that French chef from Nishiazabu doing these days?” I asked.

“He’s doing extremely well,” the client replied.

Hearing that made me genuinely happy.

In the end, that chef only visited my salon once.

And yet, I still remember him vividly.

From the moment he opened the door to the Meguro salon, I felt something unusual.

As I focused more carefully, it felt as though a woman was clinging to his back.

Not metaphorically.

It literally felt as if someone was hanging onto his neck from behind with both arms.

Of course, there was no way I could say something like that to a first-time client.

So I kept quiet.

Besides, I already knew beforehand that his main complaint was severe whiplash-like neck pain.

Part of me wondered whether my mind was simply creating an image based on that information.

We began the session, and as usual, I worked on balancing the body as a whole.

Then something surprising happened.

The pain disappeared almost immediately.

And I had barely touched his neck.

The client looked puzzled.

“What do you think caused it?” he asked.

At first, I tried to avoid giving a direct answer.

But he kept asking seriously, so eventually I told him honestly:

“This may sound strange, but it felt like there was a woman clinging to your back, so I removed that feeling.”

Normally, that kind of answer would probably alarm most people.

But instead, he paused and quietly said:

“…Actually, something comes to mind.”

He then explained that he had recently traveled to Paris.

Not for sightseeing.

He had gone there to visit the grave of his late mentor on the first anniversary of their death.

I already knew he had been to France, but I had never imagined it was for a grave visit.

Then he told me something even stranger.

At the cemetery, he had seen a mysterious woman.

She was walking continuously in curved circles, over and over again.

He couldn’t even clearly tell whether she was alive or not.

In the end, I was simply relieved that his pain disappeared and never returned afterward.

For a chef, neck pain was devastating.

He told me he could no longer lower his head comfortably while cooking.

What stayed in my mind most was something he said near the end of the session:

“That’s why it felt so strange. The pain kept moving from the right side of my neck to the left side.”

Apparently, the pain had first started during the flight back from France.

To travel all the way to Paris,to visit a grave,and perhaps bring something invisible back with you—

that is no ordinary experience.

Maybe that is what people mean when they say someone was “called.”

Today, the memory suddenly came back to me.

So I decided to write it down before it faded again.