Monday, February 1, 2021

Part 4 Many Lives, Many Masters...Catherine/Eric in WW2 Germany...1758 in Ukraine...

 Many Lives, Many Masters

Dr Brian Weiss

THE TRUE STORY of a prominent psychiatrist, his young patient and the past-life therapy that changed both of their lives 

Chapter 9

Each week another layer of neurotic fears and anxieties was stripped away from Catherine. Each week she appeared a bit more serene, a bit softer and more patient. She was more confident, and people were drawn to her. Catherine felt more loving, and others gave love back to her. The inner diamond that was her true personality was shining brilliantly for all to see. 

Catherine's regressions spanned millennia. Each time she entered a hypnotic trance, I had no idea where the threads of her lives would emerge. From prehistoric caves to ancient Egypt to modern times—she had been there. And all of her lives had been lovingly overseen, somewhere beyond time, by the Masters. In today's session she emerged in the twentieth century, but not as Catherine. 

"I see a fuselage and an airstrip, some kind of airstrip," she whispered softly. 

"Do you know where it is?" 

"I can't see . . Alsatian? " Then , more definitely , "Alsatian." 

"In France?" 

"I don' t know , just Alsatian . .. . I see the name Von Marks, Von Marks (phonetic]. Some type of brown helmet or  a hat .. . a hat with goggles on it . The troop has been destroyed. It appears to be a very remote area . I don't think there's a town nearby." 

"What do you see?" 

"I see buildings destroyed. I see buildings. . . . The land is torn up from . . bombings . There's a very well hidden area." 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm helping them with the wounded. They're carrying them away. " 

"Look at yourself . Describe yourself. Look down and see what you're wearing." 

"I have some type of jacket on. I have blond hair. I have blue eyes. My jacket is very dirty. There are many wounded people." 

"Are you trained to help with the wounded?" 


"Do you live there or were you brought there? Where do you live?" 

"I don't know." 

"About how old are you?" 

"Thirty-five." Catherine herself was twenty-nine , and she had hazel eyes, not blue. I continued the questioning. 

"Do you have a name? Is it on the jacket?" 

"There are wings on the jacket. I'm a pilot . . . some type of pilot." 

"You fly the airplanes?" 

"Yes, I have to." 

"Who makes you fly?" 

"I'm in service to fly. That's my job." 

"Do you drop the bombs, too?" 

"We have a gunner on the plane. There's a navigator."  

"What kind of plane do you fly?" 

"Some type of chopper plane . It has four propellers. It's a fixed wing." 

I was amused , because Catherine knew nothing about airplanes . I wondered what she would think "fixed wing" meant . But, like the making of butter or the embalming of the deceased, under hypnosis she possessed a vast store of knowledge . Only a fraction of this knowledge , however , was available to her everyday, conscious mind. I pressed on. 

"Do you have a family?" 

"They are not with me." 

"Are they safe?" 

"I don't know. I'm afraid . . . afraid they will come back. My friends are dying!" 

"Who are you afraid will come back?" 

"The enemy." 

"Who are they?" 

"The English . . . the American Armed Forces . . . the English." 

"Yes. Do you remember your family?" 

"Remember it? There's too much confusion." 

"Let's go back in the same lifetime, back to a happier time , before the war, the time with your family back at home . You can see that. I know it's hard, but I want you to relax. Try and remember." 

Catherine paused , then whispered , " I hear the name Eric . . Eric . I see a blond-haired child, a girl." 

"Is that your daughter?" 

"Yes, it must be . . . Margot. " 

"Is she close to you?" 

"She's with me. We're on a picnic. The day is beautiful." 

"Is anyone else there with you? Besides Margot?" 

"I see a woman with brown hair sitting on the grass."  

"Is she your wife?" 

"Yes .. . I don't know her, " she added , referring to a recognition of someone in Catherine's present lifetime. 

"Do you know Margot?  Look at Margot closely. Do you know her?" 

"Yes, but I'm not sure how .. . I knew her from somewhere." 

"It will come to you. Look into her eyes." 

"It's Judy, " she answered. Judy was presently Catherine' s best friend. There had been an instant rapport at their first meeting, and they had become true friends, implicitly trusting each other, knowing the other's thoughts and needs before they were verbalized. 

"Judy?" I repeated. 

"Yes, Judy. She looks like her . . . she smiles like her." 

"Yes, that's good. Are you happy at home, or are there problems?" 

"There are no problems." [Long pause ] "Yes . Yes, it is a time of unrest. There's a problem deep in the German government, the political structure. Too many people want to move in too many directions. It will eventually tear us apart . . . . But I must fight for my country." 

"Do you have strong feelings for your country?" 

"I dislike war. I feel it is wrong to kill, but I must do my duty." 

"Go back now , back to where you were, to the plane on the ground, and the bombings, and the war. It's later; the war has started. The English and the Americans are dropping bombs near you. Go back. Do you see the plane again?" 


"Do you still have the same feelings about duty and killing and war?" 

"Yes, we will die for nothing." 


"We will die for nothing," she repeated in a louder whisper. 

"Nothing? Why for nothing? Is there no glory in it? No defense of your land or your loved ones?" 

"We will die for defending the ideas of a few people." 

"Even though these were the leaders of your country? 

"They can be wrong—" She quickly cut me off. 

"They are not leaders . If they were leaders , there would not be so much internal strife .. . in government." 

"Some people call them mad. Does this make sense to you? Power-crazy?" 

"We must all be mad to be driven by them, to allow them to drive us .. . to kill people. And to kill ourselves. . . . " 

"Have you any friends left?" 

"Yes, there are still some alive." 

"Are there any that you are particularly close to? In your airplane crew ? Are your gunner and your navigator still alive?" 

"I don't see them, but my plane wasn't destroyed." 

"Do you fly again in the plane?" 

"Yes, we must hurry to get the remaining aircraft off the strip . . . before they return." 

"Go into your plane." 

"I don't want to go." It was as if she could negotiate with me. 

"But you must to get it off the ground." 

"It's so senseless. . . . " 

"What kind of profession did you have before the war? Do you remember? What did Eric do?" 

"I was second in command .. . on a small plane , some plane flying cargo." 

"So you were a pilot then, too?" 


"That took you away from home a lot?" 

She answered very softly, wistfully. "Yes." 

"Go ahead in time, " I instructed , "to the next flight. Can you do that?" 

"There is no next flight." 

"Does something happen to you?" 

"Yes" Her breathing was accelerating , and she was becoming agitated. She had gone ahead to the day of her death . 

"What's happening? " 

"I'm running from the fire. My party's being torn apart by the fire." 

"Do you survive this?" 

"Nobody survives . . . nobody survives a war. I'm dying! " Her breathing was heavy . "Blood ! Blood is everywhere ! I have pain in my chest. I've been hit in my chest . . . and my leg . . . and my neck. It's s o much pain . . . . " 

She was in agony; but soon her breathing slowed and became more regular; her facial muscles relaxed , and a look of peacefulness came over her. I recognized the calm of the transition state. 

"You look more comfortable. Is it over?" 

She paused, then answered very softly. "I'm floating . . . away from my body . I have no body. I am in spirit again." 

"Good. Rest . You've had a difficult lifetime . You went through a difficult death. You need to rest. Restore yourself. What did you learn from that lifetime?" 

"I learned about hate . . . senseless killing . . . misdirected hate . . . people who hate and they don't know why . We are driven to it .. . by the evil, when we are in physical state. . . . " 

"Is there a higher duty than duty to the country ? Something that could have prevented you from killing ? Even if you were ordered? A duty to yourself?" 

"Yes. . . . " But she did not elaborate. 

"Are you waiting for something now?" 

"Yes . . . I'm waiting to go into a state of renewal . I must wait. They will come for me . . . they will come. . . . " 

"Good. I would like to talk with them when they come. " 

We waited for several more minutes. Then abruptly her voice was loud and husky , and the original Master Spirit, not the poet Master, was speaking. 

"You were correct in assuming this is the proper treatment for those in the physical state . You must eradicate the fears from their minds. It is a waste of energy when fear is present. It stifles them from fulfilling what they were sent here to fulfill! Take your cues from your surroundings . They must first be put into a level very , very deep . . . where they no longer can feel their body. Then you can reach them. It's only on the surface . . . that the troubles lie . Deep within their soul, where the ideas are created, that is where you must reach them. 

"Energy . . . everything is energy. So much is wasted. The mountains . . . inside the mountain it is quiet; it is calm at the center. But on the outside is where the trouble lies. Humans can only see the outside, but you can go much deeper . You have to see the volcano . To do it you have to go deep inside. 

"To be in physical state is abnormal. When you are in spiritual state , that is natural to you. When we are sent back , it's like being sent back to something we do not know. It will take us longer. In the spirit world you have to wait, and then you are renewed. There is a state of renewal . It's a dimension like the other dimensions, and you have almost succeeded in reaching that state. . . . " 

This caught me by surprise. How could I be approaching the state of renewal ? " I have almost reached it? " I asked incredulously. 

"Yes. You know so much more than the others. You understand so much more. Be patient with them. They don't have the knowledge that you have. Spirits will be sent back to help you. But you are correct in what you are doing . . . continue . This energy must not be wasted. You must get rid of the fear. That will be the greatest weapon you have. . . . " 

The Master Spirit was silent . I pondered the meaning of this incredible message . I knew I was successfully getting rid of Catherine's fears, but this message had a more global meaning. It was more than just a confirmation of the effectiveness of hypnosis as a therapeutic tool . It involved even more than past-life regressions, which would be difficult to apply to the general population , one by one . No , I believed it concerned the fear of death, which is the fear deep within the volcano . The fear of death , that hidden, constant fear that no amount of money or power can neutralize—this is the core . But if people knew that "life is endless; so we never die ; we were never really born," then this fear would dissolve. If they knew that they had lived countless times before and would live countless times again, how reassured they would feel. If they knew that spirits were around to help them while they were in physical state and that after death, in spiritual state, they would join these spirits, including their deceased loved ones , how comforted they would be. 

If they knew that guardian "angels" really did exist, how much safer they would feel. If they knew that acts of violence and injustices against people did not go un-noted, but had to be repaid in kind in other lifetimes, how much less anger and desire for vengeance they would harbor. And if indeed , "by knowledge we approach God," of what use are material possessions, or power, when  they are an end in themselves and not a means to that approach? To be greedy or power-hungry has no value whatsoever. 

But how to reach people with this knowledge? Most people recite prayers in their churches, synagogues, mosques, or temples, prayers that proclaim the immortality of the soul. Yet after worship is over, they go back into their competitive ruts, practicing greed and manipulation and self-centeredness. These traits retard the progress of the soul. So, if faith is not enough, perhaps science will help. Perhaps experiences such as Catherine's and mine need to be studied, analyzed, and reported in a detached, scientific manner by people trained in the behavioral and physical sciences . Yet, at this time , writing a scientific paper or a book was the furthest thing from my mind , a remote and most unlikely possibility . I wondered about the spirits who would be sent back to help me. Help me do what? 

Catherine stirred and began to whisper . "Someone named Gideon, someone named Gideon . . . Gideon . He's trying to talk to me." 

"What does he say?" 

"He's all around . He won't stop . He's some type of guardian . . . something . But he's playing with me now." 

"Is he one of your guardians?" 

"Yes, but he's playing . . . he's just jumping all around . I think he wants me to know he's all around me . . . everywhere." 

"Gideon?" I repeated. 

"He's there." 

"Does it make you feel safer?" 

"Yes. He'll be back when I need him." 

"Good. Are there spirits around us?" 

She answered in a whisper , from the perspective of her superconscious mind . "Oh , yes . . . many spirits. They only come when they want to. They come . . . when they want to. We are all spirits. But others . . . some are in physical state and others are in a period of renewal. And others are guardians. But we all go there. We have been guardians, too." 

"Why do we come back to learn ? Why can't we learn as spirits?" 

"Those are different levels of learning , and we must learn some of them in the flesh. We must feel the pain . When you're a spirit you feel no pain. It is a period of renewal. Your soul is being renewed. When you're in physical state in the flesh, you can feel pain; you can hurt. In spiritual form you do not feel . There is only happiness, a sense of well-being . But it's a renewal period for . . . us . The interaction between people in the spiritual form is different. When you are in physical state . . . you can experience relationships." 

"I understand. It will be okay." She had become silent again. Minutes passed. 

"I see a carriage," she began, "a blue carriage." 

"A baby carriage?" 

"No, a carriage that you ride in . . . . Something blue ! A blue fringe on the top, blue outside. . . . " 

"Do horses pull the carriage?" 

"It has big wheels. I don't see anybody in it , but just two horses hitched to it .. . a gray one and a brown one . The horse's name is Apple, the gray one , because he likes apples . The other one's name is Duke. They're very nice . They won' t bite you. They have big feet . . . big feet." 

"Is there a mean horse, too? A different horse?" 

"No. They're very nice." 

"Are you there?" 

"Yes. I can see his nose. He's so much bigger than I am." 

"Do you ride the carriage?" By the nature of her responses I knew she was a child. 

"There are horses. There's a boy there, too." 

"How old are you?" 

"Very little . I don' t know . I don't think I know how to count." 

"Do you know the boy? Your friend? Your brother?" 

"He's a neighbor. He's there for . . . some party. They're having a . . . wedding or something." 

"Do you know who is getting married?" 

"No. We were told not to get dirty. I have brown hair . . . shoes that button on the side all the way up." 

"Are these your party clothes? Good clothes?" 

"It's a white . . . some type of white dress with a . . . something ruffly over it, and it ties in the back." 

"Is your house nearby?" 

"It's a big house," the child answered. 

"Is that where you live?" 


"Good. You can look into the house now; it's okay. It's an important day . Other people will be dressed well, too, wearing special clothes." 

"They're cooking food, lots of food." 

"Can you smell it?" 

"Yes. They're making some type of bread. Bread . . . meat. . . . We're told to go back outside again." 

I was amused at this. I had told her it was all right to go inside, and now she had been ordered out again. "Do they call your name?" 

". . . Mandy . . . Mandy and Edward." 

"Is he the boy?" 


"They won't let you stay in the house?" 

"No, they're too busy." 

"How do you feel about that?" . 

"We don't care . But it's hard to stay clean . We can't do anything." 

"Do you get to the wedding? Later that day?" 

"Yes ..  I see many people . It's crowded in the room. It's hot , a hot day . There's a parson there ; the parson's there . . . with a funny hat, a big hat . . . black . It comes out over his face . . . quite aways." 

"Is this a happy time for your family?" 


"Do you know who's getting married?" 

"Just my sister." 

"Is she much older?" 


"Do you see her now ? Is she wearing her wedding dress? " 


"Is she pretty?" 

"Yes. She has lots of flowers around her hair." 

"Look at her closely. Do you know her from another time ? Look at her eyes, her mouth. . . . " 

"Yes. I think she's Becky . . . but smaller, much smaller. " 

Becky was Catherine's friend and coworker. They were close, yet Catherine resented Becky's judgmental attitude and her intrusiveness into Catherine's life and decisions. After all, she was a friend, not family. But perhaps the distinction was now not so clear . 

"She . . . she likes me . . . and I can stand near the front because she does." 

"Good. Look around you. Are your parents there?" 


"Do they like you as much?" 


"That's good . Look at them closely . First your mother. See if you remember her. Look at her face." Catherine took several deep breaths. 

"I don't know her."  

"Look at your father. Look at him closely . Look at his expression, his eyes . . . also his mouth. Do you know him?" 

"He's Stuart," she quickly answered. So, Stuart had surfaced once again. This was worth exploring further. 

"What's your relationship with him like?" 

"I love him very much . . . he's very good to me . But he thinks I am a nuisance. He thinks children are nuisances." 

"Is he too serious?" 

"No, he likes to play with us. But we ask too many questions. But he's very good to us, except we ask too many questions." 

"Does that sometimes annoy him?" 

"Yes, we must learn from the teacher, not from him. That's why we go to school . . . to learn." 

"That sounds like him talking . Does he say that to you? " 

"Yes, he has more important things to do. He must run the farm." 

"Is it a big farm?" 


"Do you know where it is?" 


"Do they ever mention the city or the state ? The name of the town?" 

She paused, listening carefully. "I don't hear that" She was silent again. 

"Okay, do you want to explore more in this lifetime ? To go ahead in time or is this—" 

She cut me off. "This is enough."

During this entire process with Catherine, I had been reluctant to discuss her revelation s wit h other professionals. Actually, except for Carole and a few others who were "safe," I haven't shared this remarkable information with others at all . I knew the knowledge from our sessions was both true and extremely important , yet anxiety about the reactions of my professional and scientific colleagues caused me to keep silent . I was still concerned with my reputation, career, and what others thought of me. 

My personal skepticism had been eroded by the proofs that, week after week, fell from her lips. I would often replay the audio tapes and re-experience the sessions, with all their drama and immediacy . But the others would have to rely on my experiences, powerful but nevertheless not their own . I felt compelled to gather even more data. 

As I gradually accepted and believed the messages, my life became simpler and more satisfying. There was no need to play games, to pretend , to act out roles , or to be other than what I was . Relationships became more honest and direct. Family life was less confusing and more relaxed . My reluctance to share the wisdom that had been given to me through Catherine began to diminish. Surprisingly , most people were very interested and wanted to know more . Many told me of their very private experiences of parapsychological events, whether ESP, deja vu, out-of-body experiences, past-life dreams, or others. Many had never even told their spouses about these experiences. People were almost uniformly afraid that, by sharing their experiences, others, even their own families and therapists, would consider them odd or strange. Yet these parapsychological events are fairly common, much more frequent than people realize. It is only the reluctance to tell others about psychic occurrences that makes them seem rare . And the more highly trained are the most reluctant to share . 

The respected chairman of a major clinical department at my hospital is a man who is admired internationally for his expertise. He talks to his deceased father, who has several  times protected him from serious danger . Another professor has dreams that provide the missing steps or solutions to his complex research experiments. The dreams are invariably correct. Another well-known doctor usually knows who is calling him on the phone before he answers it. The wife of the Chairman of Psychiatry at a midwestern university has a Ph.D. in psychology. Her research projects are always carefully planned and executed . She had never told anyone that when she first visited Rome, she moved through the city as if she had a road map imprinted in her memory. She unerringly knew what was around the next corner. Although she had never been to Italy previously and did not know the language, Italians repeatedly approached her in Italian , continually mistaking her for a native . Her mind struggled to integrate her experiences in Rome. 

I understood why these highly trained professionals remained in the closet. I was one of them . We could not deny our own experiences and senses. Yet our training was in many ways diametrically opposite to the information , experiences , and beliefs we had accumulated. So we remained quiet.

Chapter 10

The week passed quickly. I had listened over and over again to the tape of last week's session. How was I approaching the state of renewal ? I did not feel particularly enlightened. And now spirits would be sent back to help me. But what was I supposed to do? When would I find out? Would I be up to the task? I knew I must wait and be patient. I remembered the words of the poet Master. 

"Patience and timing . . . everything comes when it must come. . . . Everything will be clear to you in time. But you must have a chance to digest the knowledge that we have given to you already." So I would wait. 

At the beginning of this session Catherine related a fragment of a dream she had had several nights ago. In the dream she was living in her parents' house, and a fire had broken out during the night. She was in control, helping to evacuate the house, but her father was dawdling and seemingly indifferent to the urgency of the situation. She rushed him outside. Then he remembered something he had left in the house , and he sent Catherine back into the raging fire to retrieve the object. She could not remember what it was. I decided not to interpret the dream yet , but to wait and see if the opportunity would arise while she was hypnotized. 

She quickly entered a deep hypnotic trance. "I see a woman with a hood over her head, not covering her face , just on her hair." Then she was silent. 

"Can you see that now? The hood?" 

"I lost it. .. . I see some type of black material , brocade material with a gold design on it . .. . I see a building with some type of structural points on it . . . white. " 

"Do you recognize the building?" 


"Is it a large building?" 

"No. There's a mountain in the background with some snow on the top of it. But the grass is green in the valley . . . where we're at." 

"Are you able to go into the building?" 

"Yes. It's made of some type of marble . . . very cold to the touch." 

"Is it some sort of temple or religious building?" 

"I don't know. I thought it might be a prison." 

"Prison?" I repeated . "Are there people in the building ? Around it?" 

"Yes, some soldiers. They have black uniforms, black with gold shoulder pads . . . gold tassels hanging off . Black helmets with some type of gold . . . something pointed and gold on the top .. . of the helmet. And a red sash, a red sash around the waist." 

"Are there any soldiers around you?" 

"Maybe two or three." 

"Are you there?" 

"I'm somewhere, but I'm not in the building. But I'm nearby." 

"Look around. See if you can find yourself . . . . The mountains are there, and the grass . . . and the white building. Are there other buildings, too?" 

"If there are other buildings, they're not situated near this  one. I see one . . . isolated , with some type of wall built behind it .. . a wall." 

"Do you think it's a fort or a prison or something like that?" 

"It might be, but . . . it's very isolated." 

"Why is that important to you? " [Long pause ] "Do you know the name of the town or country where you are? Where the soldiers are?" 

"I keep seeing 'Ukraine.' " 

"Ukraine?" I repeated , fascinated by the diversity of her lifetimes. "Do you see a year ? Does that come to you ? Or a period of time?" 

"Seventeen-seventeen," she answered hesitatingly, then corrected herself. "Seventeen fifty-eight . . . seventeen fiftyeight. There are many soldiers. I don't know what their purpose is. With long swords that curve." 

"What else do you see or hear?" I inquired. 

"I see a fountain, a fountain where they water the horses." 

"Do the soldiers ride horses?" 


"Are the soldiers known by any other name ? Do they call themselves anything special?" 

She listened. "I don't hear that." 

"Are you among them?" 


Her answers were again a child's, short and often monosyllabic. I had to be a very active interviewer. 

"But you're seeing them nearby? " 


"Are you in the town?" 


"Do you live there?" 

"I believe so." 

"Good. See if you can find yourself and where you live." 

"I see some very ragged clothes. I see just a child, a boy . His clothes are ragged. He's cold. . . . " 

"Does he have a home in the town? " There was a long pause. 

"I don't see that," she continues. 

She seemed to be having some difficulty connecting with this lifetime. She was somewhat vague in her answers, somehow unsure. "Okay. Do you know the boy's name?" 


"What happens to the boy ? Go with him. See what happens." 

"Someone he knows is a prisoner." 

"A friend? A relative?" 

"I believe it's his father." Her answers were brief. 

"Are you the boy?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"Do you know how he feels about his father being in prison?" 

"Yes . . . he' s very afraid, afraid they might kill him." 

"What has his father done?" 

"He has stolen something from the soldiers , some papers or something." 

"The boy doesn't understand completely?" 

"No. He might never see his father again." 

"Can he get to see his father at all?" 


"Do they know for how long his father will be in the prison? Or if he will live?" 

"No!" she answered. Her voice quavered . She was very upset, very sad . She was not providing much detail, yet she was visibly agitated by the events she was witnessing and experiencing. 

"You can feel what the boy is feeling, " I went on, "that kind of fear and anxiety. Do you feel it?" 

"Yes." Again, she was silent. 

"What happens ? Go ahead in time now. I know it's hard. Go ahead in time. Something happens." 

"His father is executed." 

"How does he feel now?" 

"It was for something he never did . But they execute people for no reason at all." 

"The boy must be very upset about this." 

"I don't believe he understands fully . . . what has happened." 

"Does he have other people to turn to?" 

"Yes, but his life will be very hard." 

"What becomes of the boy?" 

"I don't know. He will probably die. . . . " She sounded so sad. She was again silent , then seemed to be looking around . 

"What are you seeing?" 

"I see a hand .. . a hand closing around something . . . white. I don't know what it is. . . . " She fell silent again, and minutes passed. 

"What else do you see?" I asked. 

"Nothing . . . darkness. " 

She had either died or somehow disconnected from the sad boy who lived in the Ukraine more than two hundred years ago. "Have you left the boy?" 

"Yes," she whispered. She was resting. 

"What did you learn from that lifetime? Why was it important?" 

"People cannot be judged hastily. You have to be fair with someone. Many lives were ruined by being hasty in our judgments."

"The boy's life was short and hard because of that judgment . . . against his father." 

"Yes." She was silent again. 

"Are you seeing something else now ? Do you hear anything?" 


Again there was the brief answer and then silence. For some reason, this brief lifetime had been particularly grueling. I gave her instructions to rest. 

"Rest. Feel peacefulness. Your body is healing itself ; your soul is resting . . . . Are you feeling better ? Rested ? It was difficult for the little boy. Very hard . But now you're resting again. Your mind can take you to other places , other times . . . other memories. Are you resting?" 


I decided to pursue the dream fragment about the burning house , her father's unconcerned dawdling , and his sending her back into the conflagration in order to retrieve something of his. 

"I have a question now about the dream you had . . . with your father. You can remember it now; it's safe. You're in a deep trance. Do you remember?" 


"You went back into the house to get something. Do you remember that?" 

"Yes . . . it was a metal box." 

"What was in it that he wanted so badly to send you back into a burning house?" 

"His stamps and his coins . . . that he saves, " she answered. 

Her detailed recollection of the dream content under hypnosis contrasted dramatically with her sketchy recall while awake. Hypnosis was a powerful tool, not only providing access to the most remote , hidden areas of the mind, but also allowing a much more detailed memory. "Were his stamps and coins very important to him?"  


"But to risk your life to go back into a burning house just for stamps and coins—" She cut me off. 

"He didn't think he was risking it." 

"He thought it was safe ?" 


"Then, why didn't he go back instead of you?" 

"Because he thought I could go faster." 

"I see. Was there a risk to you, though?" 

"Yes, but he didn't realize that." 

"Was there more meaning to that dream for you ? About your relationship with your father?" 

"I don't know." 

"He didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to get out of the burning house." 


"Why was he so leisurely ? You were fast; you saw the danger." 

"Because he tries to hide from things." 

I seized this moment to interpret part of the dream. "Yes, it's an old pattern of his, and you do things for him, like fetching the box. I hope he can learn from you. I have a feeling that the fire represents time running out , that you realize the danger and that he doesn't . While he dawdles and sends you back for material objects , you know much more . . . and have much to teach him, but he doesn't seem to want to learn." 

"No," she agreed. "He doesn't." 

"That's how I see the dream. But you can't force him. Only he can realize this." 

"Yes," she agreed again , and her voice became deep and husky, "it is unimportant that our bodies get burned in fires if we don't need them . ..." 

A Master Spirit had shed an entirely different perspective on the dream. I was surprised at this sudden entrance, and I could only parrot back the thought. "We don't need our bodies?" 

"No. We go through so many stages when we're here. We shed a baby body, go into a child's, from child to an adult , an adult into old age. Why shouldn't we go one step beyond and shed the adult body and go on to a spiritual plane ? That is what we do . We don't just stop growing ; we continue to grow. When we get to the spiritual plane, we keep growing there, too. We go through different stages of development. When we arrive, we're burned out. We have to go through a renewal stage, a learning stage, and a stage of decision. We decide when we want to return, where, and for what reasons. Some choose not to come back . They choose to go on to another stage of development. And they stay in spirit form . . . some for longer than others before they return. It is all growth and learning . . . continuous growth . Our body is just a vehicle for us  while we're here . It is our soul and our spirit that last forever." 

I did not recognize the voice or style . A "new" Master was speaking, and speaking of important knowledge . I wanted to know more about these spiritual realms. 

"Is learning in the physical state faster? Are there reasons that people don't all stay in the spiritual state?" 

"No. Learning in the spiritual state is much faster, far accelerated from that in the physical state . But we choose what we need to learn. If we need to come back to work through a relationship, we come back. If we are finished with that, we go on. In spiritual form you can always contact those that are in physical state if you choose to. But only if there is importance there .. . if you have to tell them something that they must know."

"How do you make contact ? How does the message come through?" To my surprise, Catherine answered. Her whisper was faster and firmer. 

"Sometimes you can appear before that person . . . and look the same way you did when you were here. Other times you just make a mental contact. Sometimes the messages are cryptic, but most often the person knows what it pertains to. They understand. It's mind-to-mind contact." 

I spoke to Catherine. "The knowledge that you have now, this information, this wisdom, which is very important . . . why is it not accessible to you when you are awake and in the physical state?" 

"I guess I wouldn't understand it . I'm not capable of understanding it." 

"Then, perhaps I can teach you to understand it , so that it doesn't frighten you, and so that you learn." 


"When you hear the voices of the Masters, they say things similar to what you are telling me now. You must share a great deal of information " I was intrigued at the wisdom she possessed when she was in this state. 

"Yes," she replied simply. 

"And this comes from your own mind?" 

"But they have put it there." So she gave the credit to the Masters. 

"Yes," I acknowledged . "How do I best communicate it back to you so that you grow and lose your fears?" 

"You have already done that," she answered softly. She was right; her fears were nearly gone. Once the hypnotic regressions had begun, her clinical progress had been incredibly rapid.

"What lessons do you need to learn now ? What is the most important thing you can learn during this lifetime so that you can continue to grow and prosper?" 

"Trust," she answered quickly. She had known what her principal task was. 

"Trust?" I repeated , surprised by the quickness of her retort. 

"Yes. I must learn to have faith, but also to trust people. I don't. I think everybody is trying to do evil to me. That makes me stay away from people and situations that I probably shouldn't stay away from . It's keeping me with other people that I should break away from." 

Her insight was tremendous when she was in this superconscious state. She knew her weaknesses and her strengths. She knew the areas that needed attention and work, and she knew what to do to improve matters. The only problem was that these insights needed to reach her conscious mind and needed to be applied to her waking life. Superconscious insight was fascinating, but by itself it was not enough to transform her life. 

"Who are these people to break away from?" I asked. 

She paused. "I am afraid of Becky. I'm afraid of Stuart . . . that somehow harm will come to me . . . from them." 

"Can you break away from that?" 

"Not completely , but from some of their ideas, yes. Stuart is trying to keep me in prison, and he is succeeding. He knows that I' m afraid . He knows I'm afraid to be away from him, and he uses that knowledge to keep me with him." 

"And Becky?" 

"She's constantly trying to break down my faith in the people that I have faith in. When I see good , she sees evil. And she tries to plant those seeds in my mind . I'm learning to trust . . . people I should trust , but she fills me with  doubts about them . And that's her problem . I can't let her make me think her way." 

In her superconscious state, Catherine was able to pinpoint major character flaws in both Becky and Stuart. The hypnotized Catherine would make an excellent psychiatrist , empathic and unerringly intuitive . The awake Catherine did not possess these attributes. It was my task to bridge the gulf. Her dramatic clinical improvement meant that some of this was seeping through. 

I attempted more bridge-building. "Who can you trust?" I asked. "Think about it. Who are the people you can trust and learn from and get closer to . Who are they?" 

"I can trust you," she whispered . 

I knew this , but I knew she needed to trust people in her everyday life even more. "Yes, you can. You are close to me, but you must get closer to other people in your life, too, people who can be with you more than I can." I wanted her to be complete and independent, not dependent on me. 

"I can trust my sister. I don't know the others. I can trust Stuart, but only to a certain extent. He does care about me , but he's confused. In his confusion he unknowingly is doing me harm." 

"Yes, it is true. Is there another man that you can trust? " 

"I can trust Robert," she answered . He was another physician in the hospital. They were good friends. 

"Yes. Maybe there are still more for you to meet .. . in the future." 

"Yes," she conceded. 

The idea of future knowledge was distractingly intriguing. She had been so accurate about the past. She, through the Masters, had known specific , secret facts . Could they also know facts from the future ? If so , could we share this foreknowledge? A thousand questions burst into my mind. 

"When you find contact with your superconscious mind , like now, and have this wisdom, do you also develop abilities in the psychic realm ? Is it possible for you to look into the future? We have done much in the past." 

"That is possible," she conceded , "but I see nothing now." 

"It is possible?" I echoed. 

"I believe so." 

"Can you do this without being frightened ? Can you go into the future and obtain information of a neutral sort that will not be frightening to you? Can you see the future?" Her answer  was swift . 

" I don't see that . They will not allow it." I knew she meant the Masters. 

"Are they around you now?" 


"Are they talking to you?" 

"No. They monitor everything." 

So , being monitored , she was not permitted to peer into the future . Perhaps we had nothing to gain personally from such a glimpse. Perhaps the adventure would have made Catherine too anxious . Perhaps we were not yet prepared to cope with this information. I did not push it. 

"The spirit that was around you before, Gideon . . . " 


"What does he need? Why is he near? Do you know him? " 

"No, I don't believe so." 

"But he protects you from danger?" 


"The Masters. . . . " 

"I don't see them." 

"Sometimes they have messages for me, messages that help you and help me . Are these messages available to you even when they're not speaking? Do they put thoughts in your mind?" 


"Do they monitor how far you can go ? What you can remember?" 


"So there is a purpose in this explanation of lifetimes. . ." 


". . . For you and for me .. . to teach us. To bring us the disappearance of fear." 

"There are many ways of communication. They choose many .. . to show that they do exist. " 

Whether Catherine was hearing their voices , visualizing past images and vistas , experiencing psychic phenomena , or having thoughts and ideas placed in her mind, the purpose was the same—to show that they do exist and, even beyond that, to help us, to aid us on our path by providing insights and knowledge, to help us become godlike through wisdom. 

"Do you know why they have chosen you. . . . " 


". . . to be a channel?" This was a delicate question , since the awake Catherine could not even listen to the tapes. 

"No," she softly whispered. 

"Does it frighten you?" 


"And other times not?" 


"It can be reassuring, " I added . "We know now that we are eternal, so we lose our fear of death." 

"Yes," she agreed. She paused. "I must learn to trust." She had returned to her lifetime's major lesson. "When I'm told something, I must learn to trust what I am told . . . when the person is knowledgeable." 

"Certainly there are people not to trust," I added. 

"Yes, but I'm confused. And the people I know I should  trust, I fight against that feeling . And I don't want to trust anybody." 

She was silent as I again admired her insight. "Last time we talked about you as a child, in a garden with horses. Do you remember? Your sister's wedding?" 

"A little." 

"Was there more to gather from that time? Do you know?" 


"Would it be worthwhile to go back now and explore it? " 

"It won't come back now . There are so many things in a lifetime . . . there is so much knowledge to attain . . . from each lifetime . Yes, we must explore , but it won't come back now." 

So I turned again to her troubled relationship with her father. "Your relationship with your father is another area , one that has affected you deeply in this life." 

"Yes," she answered simply. 

"It is another are a to explore yet, too. You've had much to learn from this relationship. Compare it to the little boy in the Ukraine who lost his father at an early age . And this loss did not happen to you this time. And yet, having your father here, even though certain hardships were less . . . " 

"Was more of a burden, " she concluded. "Thoughts . . . " she added, "thoughts. . . . " 

"What thoughts?" I sensed she was in a new area. 

"About the anesthesia. When they give you anesthesia, can you hear ? You can still hear! " She had answered her own question. She was whispering rapidly now, becoming excited . "Your mind is very much aware of what's going on. They were talking about my choking , about the possibility of me choking when they did the surgery on my throat." 

I remembered Catherine's vocal cord surgery , which was performed just a few months before her first appointment with me. She had been anxious prior to the surgery, but she was absolutely terrified upon awakening in the recovery room. It had taken the nursing staff hours to calm her . Now it appeared that what was said by the surgeons during the operation, during the time she was under deep anesthesia, had precipitated her terror. My mind flipped back to medical school and my surgery rotation. I remembered the casual conversations during operations, while the patients were anesthetized . I remembered the jokes , the cursing , the arguments, and the surgeons' temper tantrums. What had the patients heard , at a subconscious level ? How much registered  to affect their thoughts and emotions, their fears and anxieties , after they awakened? Was the postoperative course , the patient' s very recovery from the surgery , influenced positively or negatively by the remarks made during the operation? Had anyone died because of negative expectations overheard during surgery ? Had they, feeling hopeless, just given up? 

"Do you remember what they were saying?" I asked. 

"That they had to put a tube down. When they took the tube out, my throat might swell up. They didn't think I could hear." 

"But you did." 

"Yes. That's why I had all the problems. " 

After today's session, Catherine no longer had any fear  of swallowing or choking. It was as simple as that. 

"All the anxiety ... " she continued, "I thought I would choke." 

"Do you feel free?" I asked. 

"Yes. You can reverse what they did." 

"Can I?" 

"Yes. You are. . . . They should be very careful of what they say . I remember it now . They put a tube in my throat . And then I couldn't talk afterward to tell them anything. "

"Now you're free. . . . You did hear them." 

"Yes, I heard them talk . . . . " She fell silent for a minute or two, then began to turn her head from side to side. She seemed to be listening to something. 

"You seem to be hearing messages . Do you know where that message came from ? I was hoping the Masters would appear." 

"Someone told me" was her cryptic answer. 

"Somebody was speaking to you?" 

"But they're gone." I tried to bring them back. 

"See if you can bring back spirits with messages for us . . . to help us out." 

"They come only when they want to , not when I choose," she answered firmly. 

"You don't have any control over it?" 


"Okay," I conceded , "but the message about the anesthesia was very important for you . That was the source of your choking." 

"It was important for you, not me," she retorted. 

Her answer reverberated through my mind. She would be cured of the terror of choking, yet this revelation was nevertheless more important for me than for her. I was the one doing the healing. Her simple answer contained many levels of meaning. I felt that if I truly understood these levels, these resonating octaves of meanings, I would advance a quantum leap into the understanding of human relationships. Perhaps the helping was more important than the cure. "For me to help you?" I asked. 

"Yes. You can undo what they did. You have been undoing what they did. . . . " She was resting. We had both learned a great lesson. 


Shortly after her third birthday my daughter , Amy , came running over to me, hugging me around the legs. She looked up and said, "Daddy, I've loved you for forty thousand years. " I looked down at her little face , and I felt very, very happy .


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