hen Catherine arrived for her next appointment one week later, I was ready to play the tape of last week's incredible dialogue. After all, she was providing me with celestial poetry in addition to past-life recall. I told her that she had related information from after-death experiences, even though she had no memory at all of the in-between or spiritual state. She was reluctant to listen. Overwhelmingly improved and happier, she had no need to listen to this material. Besides, it was all somewhat "eerie." I prevailed upon her to listen. It was wonderful, beautiful, uplifting, and it came through her. I wanted to share it with her. She listened to her soft whisper on the tape for only a few minutes, and then she made me turn it off. She said that it was just too weird and made her uncomfortable. Silently, I remembered "this is for you, not for her."

I wondered how long these sessions would continue because she was improving every week. Now only a few ripples remained in her once-turbulent pond. She was still afraid of enclosed places, and the relationship with Stuart was still literally touch and go. Otherwise her progress was remarkable.

We had not had a traditional psychotherapy session for months. None was necessary. We would chat for a few minutes to catch up on the events of the week, then move quickly to the hypnotic regression. Whether due to the actual memories of major traumas or daily mini traumas or to the process of reliving the experiences, Catherine was virtually cured. Her phobias and panic attacks had just about disappeared. She had no fear of death or dying. She was no longer afraid of losing control. Psychiatrists are now using high doses of tranquilizers and antidepressant medicines to treat people with Catherine's symptoms. In addition to the medicines, the patients are also often in intensive psychotherapy or attending phobia group therapy sessions. Many psychiatrists believe that symptoms such as Catherine's have a biological basis, that there are deficiencies in one or several brain chemicals.

As I hypnotized Catherine to a deep trance state, I thought about how remarkable and wonderful it was that in a period of weeks, without the use of medicines, traditional therapy, or group therapy, she was nearly cured. This was not just the suppression of symptoms nor the gritting of teeth and living through it, a life racked by fears. This was a cure, the absence of symptoms. And she was radiant, serene, and happy beyond my wildest hopes.

Her voice was a soft whisper again. "I'm in a building, something with a domed ceiling. The ceiling is blue and gold. There are other people with me. They're dressed in... old... some type of robe, very old and dirty. I don't know how we got there. There are many figures in the room. There are also some pieces, some pieces standing on some stone structure. There's a large gold figure at one end of the room. He appears.... He's very large, with wings. He's very evil. It's very hot in the room, very hot.... It's hot because there are no openings into the room. We have to stay away from the village. There's something wrong with us." "Are you sick?" "Yes, we are all sick. I don't know what it is we have, but our skin dies. It becomes very black. I feel very cold. The air is very dry, very stale. We cannot return to the village. We must stay out. Some of the faces are deformed."

This disease sounded terrible, like leprosy. If she had once had a glamorous lifetime, we had not yet stumbled across it, "How long do you have to stay there?"

"Forever," she answered gloomily, "until we die. There is no cure for this."

"Do you know the name of the illness? What is it called?"

"No. The skin gets very dry and shrivels up. I have been there for years. There are others who have just arrived. There is no way back.

We have been cast out... to die."

She suffered a wretched existence, living in a cave.

"We must hunt for our food. I see some type of wild beast

that we are hunting for... with horns. He's brown with

horns, big horns." ^

"Does anybody visit you?"

"No, they cannot go near or they will suffer from the evil, too. We have been cursed... for some evil we have done. And this is our punishment." The sands of her theology were constantly shifting in the hourglass of her lives. Only after death, in the spiritual state, was there a welcome and reassuring constancy. "Do you know what year it is?"

"We have lost track of time. We are sick; we just await our death."

"Is there no hope?" I felt the infectious despair.

"There is no hope. We will all die. And there is much pain in my hands. My whole body is weak. I am old. It is difficult for me to move."

"What happens when you cannot move anymore?"

"You are moved to another cave, and you're left there to die."

"What do they do with the dead?"

"They seal the entrance to the cave."

"Do they ever seal a cave before the person is dead?" I was searching for a clue to her fear of enclosed places.

"I do not know. I have never been there. I'm in the room with other people. It's very hot. I'm against the wall, just lying there." "What is the room for?"

"It is for the worship... many gods. It's very hot."

I advanced her in time. "I see something white. I see something white, some type of canopy. They're moving somebody." "Is it you?"

"I don't know. I will welcome death. My body is in so much pain." Catherine's lips were drawn thin in pain, and she was panting because of the heat in the cave. I took her to the day of her death. She was still panting.

"Is it hard to breathe?" I asked.

"Yes, so hot in here... feels... so hot, very dark. I can't see... and I can't move." She was dying, paralyzed and alone, in the hot, dark cave. The mouth of the cave was already sealed shut. She was frightened and miserable. Her breathing grew more rapid and irregular, and she mercifully died, ending this anguished life. "I feel very light... like I'm floating. It's very bright here. It's

wonderful!"

"Ate you in pain?"

"No!" She paused, and I awaited the Masters. Instead, she was whisked away. "I'm falling very fast. I'm going back to a body!" She seemed as surprised as I was.

"I see buildings, buildings with round columns. There are many buildings. We are outside. There are trees-olive trees- around. It's very beautiful. We are watching something.... Many Lives, Many Masters 95

People have on very funny masks; these cover their faces. It is some

festivities. They're dressed in long robes, and they have masks that

cover their faces. They pretend to be what they're not. They are on a

platform... above where we sit."

"Are you watching a play?"

"Yes."

"What do you look like? Look at yourself."

"I have brown hair. My hair is in a braid." She paused. Her description of herself and the presence of olive trees reminded me of Catherine's Greek-like lifetime fifteen hundred years before Christ, when I was her teacher, Diogenes. I decided to investigate. "Do you know the date?"

"No."

"Are there people with you that you know?"

"Yes, my husband is sitting next-to ape. I do not know him" {in her present lifetime}.

"Do you have children?"

"I am with child now." Her choice of words was interesting, somehow ancient and not at all like Catherine's conscious style. "Is your father there?"

"I do not see him. You are there somewhere... but not with me." So I was right. We were back thirty-five centuries. "What do I do there?"

"You are just watching, but you teach. You teach.... We have learned from you... squares and circles, funny things. Diogenes, you are there."

"What else do you know of me?"

"You are old. Somehow we are related... you are my mother's brother."

"Do you know others of my family?"

"I know your wife... and your children. You have sons. Two of them are older than I. My mother has died; she died very young." "Has your father raised you?"

"Yes, but I am married now."

"You're expecting a baby?"

"Yes. I'm afraid. I do not want to die while the baby is born."

"Did that happen to your mother?"

"Yes."

"And you're afraid it will happen to you also?"

"It happens many times."

"Is this your first child?"

"Yes; I am frightened. I expect it soon. I'm very big. It is uncomfortable for me to move.... It is cold." She had moved herself ahead in time. The baby was about to be born. Catherine had never had a baby, and I had not delivered any in the fourteen years since my obstetrics rotation in medical school. "Where are you?" I inquired.

"I'm lying on something stone. It's very cold. I'm having pain.... Somebody must help me. Somebody must help me." I told her to breathe deeply; the baby would be born without pain. She was panting and groaning at the same time. Her labor lasted several more agonizing minutes, and then her child was born. She had a daughter.

"Do you feel better now?"

"Very weak... so much blood!"

"Do you know what you will name her?"

"No, I'm too tired.... I want my baby."

"Your baby is here," I ad-libbed, "a little girl."

"Yes, my husband is pleased." She was exhausted. I instructed her to take a short nap and to awaken refreshed. After a minute of two, I awakened her from the nap. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes.... I see animals. They are carrying something on their backs. They have baskets on them. There are many things in the baskets... food... some red fruits....'* "Is it a pretty land?"

"Yes, with much food."

"Do you know the name of the land? What do you call it when a stranger asks you the name of the village?" "Cathenia... Cathenia."

"It sounds like a Greek town," I prompted.

"I don't know that. Do you know that? You have been away from the village and returned. I have not." This was a twist. Since, in that lifetime, I was her uncle^ older and wiser, she was asking me if I knew the answer to my own question. Unfortunately, I did not have access to that information.

"Have you lived all your life in the village?" I asked.

"Yes," she whispered, "but you travel, so you can know what you teach. You travel to learn, to learn the land... the different trade routes so you can put them down and make maps.... You are old. You go with the younger people because you understand the charts. You are very wise."

"Which charts do you mean? Charts of the stars?"

"You, you understand the symbols. You can help them to make...

help them to make maps."

"Do you recognize other people from the village?"

"I do not know them... but I know you."

"All right. How is our relationship?"

"Very good. You are very kind. I like to just sit next to you; it's very comforting.... You have helped us. You have helped my sisters...."

"There comes a time, though, when I must leave you, for I am old."

"No." She was not ready to deal with my death. "I see some bread,

flat bread, very flat and thin."

"Are people eating the bread?"

"Yes, my father and my husband and I. And other people in the village,"

"What is the occasion?"

"It is some... some festival."

"Is your father there?"

"Yes."

"Is your baby there?"

"Yes, but she's not with me. She's with my sister."

"Look closely at your sister," I suggested, looking for that recognition of a significant person in Catherine's current life. "Yes. I do not know her."

"Do you recognize your father?"

"Yes... yes... Edward. There are figs, figs and olives.,. and red fruit.

There is flat bread. And they have killed some sheep. They are

roasting the sheep." There was a long pause. "I see something white,

. .." She had again progressed herself in time. "It's a white... it's a square box. It's where they put people when they die,"

"Did someone die, then?"

"Yes... my father. I don't like to look at him. I don't want to see him."

"Do you have to look?"

"Yes. They will take him away to bury him. I feel very sad."

"Yes, I know. How many children do you have?" The reporter in me was not letting her grieve.

"I have three, two boys and a girl." After dutifully answering my question, she returned to her grief. "They have put his

body under something, under some cover.. -." She seemed very sad.

"Have I died by this time, too?"

"No. We are drinking some grapes, grapes in a cup." "What do I look like now?"

"You are very, very old." "Are you feeling better yet?" "No! When you die I'll be alone."

"Have you outlived your children? They will take care of you." "But you know so much." She sounded like a little girl.

"You will get by. You know a lot, too. You'll be safe." I reassured her, and she appeared to be resting peacefully.

"Are you more peaceful? Where are you now?"

"I don't know." She had apparently crossed over into the spiritual state, even though she had not experienced her death in that lifetime. This week we had gone through two lifetimes in considerable detail. I awaited the Masters, but Catherine continued to rest. After several more minutes of waiting, I asked if she could talk to the Master Spirits.

"I have not reached that plane," she explained. "I cannot speak until I do."

She never did reach that plane. After much waiting, I brought her out of the trance.