The idea came to me like a whisper in my ear. I had picked up my latest Brian Weiss book at the library but was too excited to return home immediately. So I stayed and began reading.
In the middle of the quiet library afternoon, I heard, “Call Parker.”
Parker is a psychiatrist I dated for a few months some years ago. It had culminated in my asking him to leave my home one evening. That sunny afternoon in the library, I made a deal with myself. I would continue with my plan to ask Pat, a psychotherapist, for a recommendation. If that didn’t work AND I didn’t hear back from my enquiries on Michael Newton‘s website, I would call Parker.
Pat, and using Michael Newton’s website, were solid options. But they didn’t pan out. When I finally spoke to Parker, I worried that he would think I had gone mad. So I began by telling him about Brian Weiss‘ books and how long I’d been struggling to recover from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Did he know a psychiatrist who could help me with Regression Therapy?
“That’s funny you should ask,” Parker said. “Someone told me about Many Lives Many Masters, and it’s been lying on the back seat of my car waiting for me to read it.”
“There it is,” I thought to myself. Parker did some research and I went to see Maureen in the Spring of 2009.
Around this time, a hypnotherapist I knew had suggested that I didn’t have to use someone who specialized in regression. He thought he ought to be able to help me. So we had a session but nothing really happened. When he hypnotized me, I saw the house I’d lived in as a child – from above. When I had a session with Maureen, it was like whitewater rafting. The images came at me, hard and fast, exhausting me. I experimented with both therapists over the next few months. After a couple sessions with each, I stuck with Maureen.
“Go to the moment when you were preparing for this life,” Maureen said. “Who was there?”
I got a feeling similar to getting into an open speed boat from a jetty. Except, it was as if the boat were sideways – one side in the water, the other vertically above – and I was climbing into it. There were three people standing there. Two of them were spirit guides and the third a human being. In my quiet hypnotized voice, I answered Maureen’s questions about their identities. I gave names and descriptions. Except I couldn’t identify the human’s name.
I knew that I had chosen a difficult life and felt sad about it. One of the guides later told me that the trauma of my childhood had set me on my life’s intended path. And my job was now to recover from that trauma.
Over the next few weeks, I was haunted by the person I couldn’t identify. Who was he? Did I know him? Did he exist? Had I met him before? One morning, I was in that twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness when I had a dream or vision or something. I could see two faces. One was the face from my “departure scene.” The other was the face of a friend I had lost touch with a couple of decades ago. Then the two faces merged into one.
Gasp! I awoke and sat up in bed with a jolt. “Avery Quinn? No way! Avery Quinn?!!” (That’s not his real name.)
I didn’t know what to make of it. I didn’t know whether to believe it or even what it meant. Then a few days later, for the first time in about twenty years, Avery contacted me.