we were still in the middle of the session. Catherine ended her rest and began talking about green statues in front of a temple. I roused myself from my reverie arid listened. She was in an ancient lifetime, somewhere in Asia, but I was still with the Masters. Incredible, I thought to myself. She's talking about previous lifetimes, about reincarnation, and yet compared to hearing messages from the Masters, it feels anti-climactic. I was already realizing, however, that she had to go through a lifetime before she could leave her body and reach the in-between state. She could not reach this state directly. And it was only there that she could reach the Masters.

"The green statues are in front of a large temple building," she whispered softly, "a building with peaks and brown balls. There are seventeen steps in front, and there is a room after you climb the steps. Incense is burning. Nobody has shoes. Their heads are shaven. They have round faces and dark eyes. They are dark skinned. I am there. I have hurt my foot and have gone there for help. My foot is swollen; I can't step on it. Something is stuck in my foot. They put some leaves on my foot... strange leaves... Tannis? [Tannin, or tannic acid, which occurs naturally in the roots, wood, bark, leaves, and fruit of many plants, has been used since ancient times as a medicine because of its styptic or astringent properties.} First my foot was cleansed. This is a ritual before the gods. There is some poison in my foot. I stepped on something. My knee is swollen. My leg is heavy with streaks on it [blood poisoning?]. They cut a hole in the foot and put something very hot on it." Catherine was now writhing in pain. She was also gagging from some terribly bitter potion that she was given to drink. The potion was made from yellow leaves. She healed, but the bones in her foot and her leg were never the same again. I progressed her in time. She saw only a bleak and poverty-stricken life. She lived with her family in a small one-room hut without a table. They ate some kind of rice, like a cereal, but they were always hungry. She aged rapidly, never escaping the poverty or the hunger, and she died. I waited, but I could see Catherine's exhaustion. Before I could awaken her, however, she told me that Robert Jarrod needed my help. I had no idea who Robert Jarrod was,

or how I could help him. There was no more.

After awakening from the trance, Catherine again remembered many of the details of her past-life recall. She remembered nothing at all of the after-death experiences, nothing from the in-between state, nothing of the Masters or of the incredible knowledge that had been revealed. I asked her a question.

"Catherine, what does the term 'Masters' mean to you?" She thought this was a golf tournament! She was improving rapidly now, but she still had difficulty integrating the concept of reincarnation into her theology. Therefore, I decided not to tell her about the Masters yet. Besides, I wasn't sure how you broke the news to someone that she was an incredibly talented trance medium who could channel wonderful, transcendental knowledge from the Master Spirits. Catherine agreed to allow my wife to attend the next session. Carole is a well-trained, highly skilled psychiatric social worker, and I wanted her opinion about these incredible happenings. After I told her what Catherine had said about my father and our son, Adam, she was eager to help. I had no trouble taking notes of every word from the lifetimes when Catherine whispered quite slowly, but the Masters spoke much more quickly, and I decided to tape-record everything.

One week later Catherine came in for her next session. She continued to improve, with diminished fears and anxieties. Her clinical improvement was definite, but I still was not sure why she was so much better. She had remembered drowning as Aronda, having her throat slashed as Johan, being a victim of a water-borne epidemic as Louisa, and other terrifyingly traumatic events. She had also experienced or re-experienced lifetimes of poverty and servitude and of abuse within her family. The latter are examples of the day-in and day-out mini traumas that also get ground into our psyches. The remembrance of both types of lifetimes could be contributing to her improvement. But another possibility existed. Could the spiritual experience itself be helping? Could the knowledge that death is not what it appears to be contribute to a sense of well-being, of diminution of fears? Could the entire process, not just the memories themselves, be part of the cure?

Catherine's psychic abilities were increasing, and she was becoming even more intuitive. She still had problems with Stuart, but she felt able to cope with him more effectively. Her eyes sparkled; her skin glowed. She had had a strange dream during the week, she announced, but she could only remember a fragment of it. She had dreamed that the red fin of a fish was embedded in her hand.

She went under quickly and easily, reaching a deep level of hypnosis within minutes.

"I see some type of cliffs. I'm standing on the cliffs, looking down. I should be looking for ships-that's what I'm supposed to be doing.... I'm wearing something blue, a blue type of pants... short pants with strange shoes... black shoes... and they buckle. The shoes have buckles, very funny shoes.... I see on the horizon there are no ships." Catherine was whispering softly. I progressed her in time to the next significant event in her life.

"We're drinking ale, stout ale. It's very dark. The tankards are thick. They're old, put together with metal stays. It's very foul -smelling in this place, and many people are in there. It's very loud. Everybody is talking, very noisy."

I asked her if she could hear anybody calling her name.

"Christian... Christian is my name." She was a male again. "We're just eating some type of meat and drinking ale. It's dark and very bitter-tasting. They put salt on it."

She could not see a year. "They're talking about a war, about ships blockading some ports! But I can't hear where it is. If they would be quiet, we could hear, but everyone's talking and noisy."

I asked her where she was. "Hamstead... Hamstead [phonetic spelling]. It's a port, a seaport in Wales. They're talking British." She went ahead in time to when Christian was on his ship. "I can smell something, something burning. It's a terrible smell. Burning wood, but also something else. It burns your nose.... Something in the distance is on fire, some type of vessel, a sailing vessel. We're loading! We're loading something with gunpowder." Catherine was becoming visibly agitated.

"It's something with gunpowder, very black. It sticks to your hands. You have to move fast. The ship has a green flag on it. The flag is dark.... It's a green and yellow flag. There is some type of crown with three points on it."

Suddenly Catherine grimaced with pain. She was in agony. "Uh," she grunted, "the pain in my hand, the pain in my hand!

There's some metal, hot metal in my hand. It's burning me! Oh! Oh!" I remembered the dream fragment and understood now about the red fin embedded in her hand. I blocked the pain, but she was still moaning.

"The splinters are metal.... The ship we were on was destroyed... the port side. They have the fire under control. Many men have been killed... many men. I have survived... only my hand is hurt, but it heals with time." I took her ahead in time, letting her pick out the next significant event.

"I see some type of print shop, printing something with blocks and ink. They're printing and binding books.... The books have leather covers and strings holding them together, leather strings. I see a red book.... It's something about history. I can't see the title; they haven't finished the printing. The books are wonderful. Their covers are so smooth, the leather. They're wonderful books; they teach you."

Obviously Christian enjoyed seeing and touching the books, and he dimly realized the potential of learning this way. He seemed to be largely uneducated, however. I progressed Christian to the last day of his life. -

"I see a bridge over a river. I'm an old man... very old. It's difficult to walk. I'm walking over the bridge... to the other side.... I feel pain in my chest-pressure, terrible pressure- pain in my chest! Oh!" Catherine was making gurgling sounds, experiencing the apparent heart attack that Christian was having on the bridge. Her breathing was rapid and shallow; her face and neck were covered with sweat. She began to cough and to gasp for air. I was concerned. Was re - experiencing a heart attack from a previous lifetime dangerous? This was a new frontier; nobody knew the answers. Finally, Christian died. Catherine was now lying peacefully on the couch, breathing deeply and evenly. I let out a deep sigh of relief.

"I feel free... free," Catherine gently whispered. "I'm just floating in darkness... just floating. There is a light around... and spirits, other people."

I asked if she had any thoughts about the lifetime that had just ended, her life as Christian,

"I should have been more forgiving, but I wasn't. I did not forgive the wrongs that people did to me, and I should have. I didn't forgive the wrongs. I held them inside, and I harbored them for many years.... I

see eyes.,. eyes."

"Eyes?" I echoed, sensing the contact. "What kind of eyes?"

"The eyes of the Master Spirits," Catherine whispered, "but I must wait. I have things to think about." Minutes passed in tense silence. "How will you know when they are ready," I asked expectantly, breaking the long silence.

"They will call me," she answered. More minutes passed. Then, suddenly, her head began to roll from side to side, and her voice, hoarse and firm, signaled the change.

"There are many souls in this dimension. I am not the only one. We must be patient. That is something I never learned either.... There are many dimensions.... " I asked her whether she had been here before, whether she had reincarnated many times.

"I have been to different planes at different times. Each one is a level of higher consciousness. What plane we go to depends upon how far we've progressed...." She was silent again. I asked her what lessons she had to learn in order to progress. She answered immediately.

"That we must share our knowledge with other people. That we all have abilities far beyond what we use. Some of us find this out sooner than others. That you should check your vices

• before you come to this point. If you do not, you carry them over with you to another life. Only we can rid ourselves... of the bad habits that we accumulate when we are in a physical state. The Masters cannot do that for us. If you choose to fight and not to rid yourself, then you will carry them over into another life. And only when you decide that you are strong enough to master the external problems, then you will no longer have them in your next life.

"We also must learn not to just go to those people whose vibrations are the same as ours. It is normal to feel drawn to somebody who is on the same level that you are. But this is wrong. You must also go to those people whose vibrations are wrong... with yours. This is the importance... in helping... these people.

"We are given intuitive powers we should follow and not try to resist. Those who resist will meet with danger. We are not sent back from each plane with equal powers. Some of us possess powers greater than others, because they have been accrued from other times. Thus people are not all created equal. But eventually we will reach a point where we will all be equal."

Catherine paused. I knew these thoughts were not hers. She had no background in physics or metaphysics; she knew nothing about planes and dimensions and vibrations. But beyond that, the beauty of the words and thoughts, the philosophical implications of these

utterings-these were all beyond Catherine's capabilities. She had never talked in such a concise, poetic manner. I could feel another, higher force struggling with her mind and vocal cords to translate these thoughts into words, so that I could understand. No, this was not Catherine.

Her voice had a dreamy tone.

"People who are in comas... are in a state of suspension. They are not ready yet to cross into the other plane... until they have decided whether they want to cross or not. Only they can decide this. If they feel they have no more learning... in physical state... then they are allowed to cross over. But jf they have more learning, then they must come back, even if they do not want to. That is a rest period for them, a time when their mental powers can rest."

So people in comas can decide whether or not to return, depending upon how much learning they have yet to accomplish in the physical state. If they feel there is nothing further to learn, they can go directly to the spiritual state, modern medicine notwithstanding. This information meshed nicely with the research being published about near-death experiences, and why some people chose to return. Others were not given the choice; they had to return because there was more to learn. Of course, all of the people interviewed about their near-death experiences returned to their bodies. There is a striking similarity in their stories. They become detached from their bodies and "watch" resuscitation efforts from a point above their bodies. They eventually become aware of a bright light or a glowing "spiritual" figure in the distance, sometimes at the end of a tunnel. They feel no pain. As they become aware that their tasks on earth are not yet completed, and they must return to their bodies, they are immediately rejoined to their bodies and once again are aware of pain and other physical sensations.

I have had several patients with near-death experiences. The most interesting account was that of a successful South American businessman who was seen by me for several sessions of conventional psychotherapy about two years after Catherine's treatment ended. Jacob had been run over and knocked unconscious by a motorcycle in Holland in 1975, when he was in his early thirties. He remembers floating above his body and looking down at the scene of the accident, taking note of the ambulance, the doctor attending his injuries, and the growing crowd of onlookers. He became aware of a golden light in the distance, and as he approached it, he saw a monk wearing a brown robe. The monk told Jacob that this was not his time to pass over, that he had to return to his body. Jacob felt the wisdom and power of the monk, who also related several future events in Jacob's life, all of which later occurred. Jacob was whooshed back into his body, now in a hospital bed, regained consciousness, and, for the first time, became aware of excruciating pain.

In 1980, while traveling in Israel, Jacob, who is Jewish, visited the Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron, which is a holy site to both Jews and Muslims. After his experience in Holland, he had become more religious and had begun to pray more often. He saw the nearby mosque and sat down to pray with the Muslims there. After a while, he rose to leave. An old Muslim man came up to him and said, "You are different from the others. They very rarely sit down to pray with us." The old man paused for a moment, looking closely at Jacob before continuing. "You have met the monk. Do not forget what he has told you." Five years after the accident and thousands of miles distant, an old man knew about Jacob's encounter with the monk, an encounter that happened while Jacob had been unconscious.

In the office, pondering Catherine's latest revelations, I wondered what our Founding Fathers would have thought about the proposition that all humans are not created equal. People are born with talents, abilities, and powers accrued from other lifetimes. "But eventually we will reach a point where we will all be equal." I suspected that this point was many, many lifetimes distant.

"I'm very restless being here. I do want to go.... When the time is right, I will go." Again, minutes silently passed. Finally the time must have been right. She had fallen into another lifetime. -

"I see apple trees _.. and a house, a white house. I live in the house. The apples are rotten... worms, no good to eat. There is a swing, a swing on the tree." I asked her to look at herself.

"I have light hair, blond hair; I'm five years old. My name is Catherine." I was surprised. She had entered her present lifetime; she was Catherine at age five. But she must be there for some reason. "Did something happen there, Catherine?"

"My father is angry-at us... 'cause we're not supposed to be outside. 'He... he's hitting me with a stick. It's very heavy; it hurts.... I'm afraid." She was whining, speaking like a child. "He won't stop till

he's hurt us. Why does he do this to us? Why is he so mean?" I asked her to see her life from a higher perspective and to answer her own questions. I had recently read about people being able to do this. Some writers called this perspective one's Higher Self or Greater Self. I was curious whether Catherine could reach this state, if it existed. If she could, this would be a powerful therapeutic technique, a shortcut to insight and understanding.

"He never wanted us," she whispered very softly. "He feels we're an intrusion in his life.... He doesn't want us." "Your brother, too?" I asked.

"Yes, my brother even more. They never planned for my brother. They weren't married when... he was conceived." This proved to be startling new information for Catherine. She had never known about the premarital pregnancy. Her mother later confirmed the accuracy of Catherine's revelation.

Although she was recounting a lifetime, Catherine now exhibited a wisdom and a perspective about her life that had previously been restricted to the in-between, or spiritual, state. Somehow there was a "higher" part of her mind, a sort of super conscious. Perhaps this was the Higher Self that others have described. Although not in contact with the Masters and their spectacular knowledge, nevertheless, in her super conscious state she possessed profound insights and information, such as her brother's conception. The conscious Catherine, when awake, was much more anxious and limited, much simpler and comparatively superficial. She could not tap into this super conscious state. I wondered if the prophets and sages of Eastern and Western religions, those called "actualized," were able to utilize this super conscious state to obtain their wisdom and knowledge. If so, then we all had the ability to do so, for we must all possess this super conscious. The psychoanalyst Carl Jung was aware of the different levels of consciousness. He wrote about the collective unconscious, a state with similarities to Catherine's super conscious.

I would become increasingly frustrated by the uncross able gulf between Catherine's conscious, awake intellect and her trance -level super conscious mind. While she was hypnotized, I would have fascinating philosophical dialogues with her at the super conscious level. When awake, however, Catherine had no interest in philosophy or related matters. She lived in the world of everyday detail, oblivious of the genius within her.

Meanwhile, her father was tormenting her, and the reasons were becoming evident. "He has many lessons to learn," I stated in a questioning way.

"Yes... so he does."

I asked her if she knew what he had to learn. "This knowledge is not revealed to me." Her tone was detached, distant. "What is revealed to me is what is important to me, what concerns me. Each person must be concerned with him- or herself...with making him- or herself... whole. We have lessons to learn... each one of us. They must be learned one at a time... in order. Only then can we know what the next person needs, what he or she lacks or what we lack, to make us whole." She spoke in a soft whisper, and her whisper conveyed a feeling of loving detachment.

When Catherine spoke again, the childlike voice had returned. "He's making me sick! He's making me eat this stuff that I don't want. It's some food... lettuce, onions, stuff I hate. He's making me eat it, and he knows I'm gonna be sick. But he doesn't care!" Catherine began to gag. She was gasping for air. I again suggested that she view the scene from a higher perspective, that she needed to understand why her father acted this way.

Catherine spoke in a raspy whisper. "It must fill some void in him. He hates me because of what he did. He hates me for that, and he hates himself." I had nearly forgotten about the sexual assault when she was three years old. "So he must punish me.... I must have done something to make him do that." She was only three years old, and her father was drunk. Yet she had carried this guilt deep within her ever since. I ex-/ plained the obvious.

"You were just a baby. You must now relieve yourself of this guilt. You didn't do anything. What could a three-year-old do? It wasn't you; it was your father."

"He must have hated me then, too," she gently whispered. "I knew him before, but I cannot draw on that information now. I must go back to that time." Although several hours had already passed, I wanted to go back to their previous relationship. I gave her detailed instructions.

"You are in a deep state. In a moment I am going to count 76 Brian L, Weiss, M.D.

backward, from three to one. You will be in a deeper state and will feel totally safe. Your mind will be free to roam back in time again, back to the time when the connection to your fathere in your current life began, back to the time that had the most significant bearing on what happened in your childhood between you and him. When I say 'one,' you will go back to that lifetime and remember it. It is

important for your cure. You can do that. Three... two... one."

There was a long pause.

"I do not see him... but I see people being killed!" Her voice became loud and husky. "We have no right to abruptly halt peoples' lives before they have lived out their karma. And we are doing it. We have no right. They will suffer greater retribution if we let them live. When they die and go to the next dimension, they will suffer there. They will be left in a very restless state. They will have no peace. And they will be sent back, but their lives will be very hard. And they will have to make up to those people that they hurt for the injustices that they did against them. They are halting these people's lives, and they have no right to do that. Only God can punish them, not us. They will be punished."

A minute of silence passed. "They are gone," she whispered. The Master Spirits had given us one more message today, strong and clear. We are not to kill, no matter what the circumstances. Only God can punish.

Catherine was exhausted. I decided to postpone our pursuit of the past-life connection to her father, and I brought her out of her trance. She remembered nothing except her incarnations as Christian and as young Catherine. She was tired, yet peaceful and relaxed, as if a huge weight had been lifted from her. My eyes met Carole's. We were also exhausted. We had shivered and we had sweated, hanging on to every word. We had shared an incredible experience.