Post by John Kenneth Muir on Jul 6, 2007 19:04:57 GMT -5
(Excerpt from Twenty Years on the Frontier of Death: The Death Experience and Shifting Death Iconography By Professor A. Vincenzo)
Chapter Five: Theresa (Pages 242 - 246)
It was late September 2017, some seven months after Papa’s passing that I first began to hear “rumblings” about an unusual young patient – a woman - in one of our local hospitals. You have to understand, I have “ears” at many such facilities around the country. These are dedicated “believers” who watch for signs of the NDE, but who – for personal reasons – wish to remain anonymous. I can’t blame them. Much of my research is still despised and denigrated by vast swaths of the world’s population, especially among the chattering pundit class that seems to guard the gateways of our mainstream media. To establish that you believe in the “dream” or “the vision” promised by the NDE is roughly akin to saying that you believe in little green men from Mars. You make yourself a target if you claim adherence to such sacrilege or heresy; even though our numbers are rapidly becoming such that we could be considered a modern spiritual, if not religious movement.
But back to the story. My contact at North East General, someone who had provided me reliable information on occasions in the past, called me during office hours on a Thursday morning, and began immediately running down some background data on the girl in question. There was no doubt this information was coming from a private medical record, but I listened with keen interest regardless.
These were the facts as they were described to me over the phone. Seventeen years old. Of Asian and African-American descent. With above-average IQ. And a fairly typical suburban family. Her name? We’ll call her Theresa.
Theresa first experienced the NDE following a radical physical trauma; which is a common way for our psychic “receptors” to be activated. Our research has determined that in some cases of head wound, there is a “jolt” or “jump start” to the region of the central nervous system that we believe administrates psychic abilities (whether they be astral projection; Psychometry, or as here – awareness of the Near Death Vision).
In the case of this young woman, she was struck by a speeding automobile on a crosswalk. Had she not been rushed to the hospital immediately, she would have died on the spot. The loss of blood was considerable.
Even given state-of-the-art medical care, Theresa fell into a coma for some time following her head injury, and it was at this stage of quiescence that one of her nurses (and I suspect, my secret but reliable informant…) began to detect odd occurrences in her ward room. Curtain shades suddenly flying up to reveal the sun upon daybreak, and so forth. No doubt this was the first significant clue that another “new human” had been “activated.”
My urgent task was to contact Theresa and hone her abilities before her friends and family could encourage her to suppress these powerful new changes in her physiology. At the moment of psychic “dawning” as it is called in the field, there is, for lack of a better description, a fight or flight instinct that comes into play for most of us.
Either the percipient “fights” for the vision to take hold and desires to learn more about this new pathway; or conversely slips into denial and old patterns, permitting society’s myriad pressures to dismiss and debunk the changes going on inside the brain. Once the “flight” mentality has taken hold (and this stage often takes the form of a suicide attempt), it is exponentially harder to assist a psychic in the process of accepting his or her legitimate abilities and status as different.
Instead, what occurs is nearly Freudian in its psychological elegance and simplicity. That which is repressed (in this case, telepathy, ESP and psychic visions…) begins to bleed out from the subconscious in unhealthy, unhelpful forms…often taking the form of nightmares, hallucinations, or precognition.
A footnote: Professor P. Darrow’s research indicates the marked propensity for this particular happening as occuring in religious households or environs (Darrow; Seeing the Light Now, Americas University Press, 2018, pages 332-334), though why religious belief or denomination should affect who experiences the “dream” is baffling. IT is something I have seen no empirical evidence of in my own studies. At least not yet.
Regardless, when Theresa emerged from her coma, I waited an appropriate length of time, and then made my first visit. Having known her now for several years, it’s difficult to go back to the moment of our first meeting; to re-experience this remarkable young woman as she was then and there, in that snapshot of time: a frightened young girl reckoning with a larger – and more frightening - world for the first time.
The first thing that struck me about Theresa was her inarguable, virtually transcendent physical beauty. A delicately-lined face housed inquisitive but absolutely penetrating and dark eyes, and her lips were like bee-stings: curved and ample. Her skin had seemingly formed itself in an immaculate presentation, sans blemish or discoloration, and there was a mysterious, almost saturnine mystery underlying her very appearance. The first time her enigmatic, inscrutable eyes met mine, the meeting nearly took my breath away. I sensed from those orbs many things. Intellect, curiosity, and not some small degree of cunning. Theresa was clever and careful. That much I understood immediately.
For a short time, Theresa was reluctant to open up to me about the specifics of her vision. I could tell she was sizing me up; trying to figure out if I was “for real.” But after a few visits and some assurances that I was no callow interloper, but genuinely who I claimed to be, she began to tell me about her NDE. About “the dream.”
Or more accurately…the nightmare as it had become.
As described in Chapter Three: The House: Why the NDE Changed and What it Shows Us Now, the light at the end of the tunnel had given way to something…less pleasant and far less welcoming. Specifically, an endless corridor of blackness.
As Theresa described it to me, it was like being surrounded – nay bathed - in the spirit of nighttime. But no stars; no street lights, no illumination whatsoever broke the hold of the pervasive darkness.
Instead, Theresa likened the corridor of ebony to that hair-raising moment when you first enter a dark room and can make out absolutely no detail whatsoever. In such circumstances, our eyes rapidly adjust to the darkness and soon, like a curtain rising, details begin to emerge and we can make out the things and objects that surround us. This patch of darkness was creepily different because that moment of blackness lingered and lingered. Unchanging and seemingly eternal.
Except, Theresa noted, for one measly, infinitesimal pinprick of light. A point of illumination nearly microscopic at first. And for a long time.
Theresa remembers dwelling in that blackness for what felt like an extended period of time before even recognizing the existence of that speck of bright dust; that island of sunlight in the surrounding moat. She couldn’t even say for certain whether she approached the light in the abyss; or it approached her. But however it happened, the point of light eventually coalesced itself into a recognizable if baffling shape.
A two-story Victorian house. One constructed in the early years of the 20th century, she estimated. Floating alone in that quiet sea of solitude and emptiness. Clapboard boards ran horizontally across the house’s breadth; yellowed paint peeling and alligatoring. A black metal roof separated a pillared porch (replete with swing...) from second story. On the front left-hand side of the house was a tall gable, topped off, on the uppermost level by a small rectangular bit of gingerbread detailing. At the bottom of this section was a kind of three-prong bump-out featuring three large windows. What existed behind the windows - inside - was obscured by closed curtains.
But it was the front door that quickly drew Theresa’s attention.
I asked her why this was so. She noted that it offered her the most clear and unfettered peek inside this unusual domain. What struck her as significant about this proved to be vital to our understanding of the NDE. What she could visually inspect of the house’s inside was this: the house's interior appeared as empty and as endless as the blackness outside the house.
Emptiness inside emptiness.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Chapter Five: Theresa (Pages 242 - 246)
It was late September 2017, some seven months after Papa’s passing that I first began to hear “rumblings” about an unusual young patient – a woman - in one of our local hospitals. You have to understand, I have “ears” at many such facilities around the country. These are dedicated “believers” who watch for signs of the NDE, but who – for personal reasons – wish to remain anonymous. I can’t blame them. Much of my research is still despised and denigrated by vast swaths of the world’s population, especially among the chattering pundit class that seems to guard the gateways of our mainstream media. To establish that you believe in the “dream” or “the vision” promised by the NDE is roughly akin to saying that you believe in little green men from Mars. You make yourself a target if you claim adherence to such sacrilege or heresy; even though our numbers are rapidly becoming such that we could be considered a modern spiritual, if not religious movement.
But back to the story. My contact at North East General, someone who had provided me reliable information on occasions in the past, called me during office hours on a Thursday morning, and began immediately running down some background data on the girl in question. There was no doubt this information was coming from a private medical record, but I listened with keen interest regardless.
These were the facts as they were described to me over the phone. Seventeen years old. Of Asian and African-American descent. With above-average IQ. And a fairly typical suburban family. Her name? We’ll call her Theresa.
Theresa first experienced the NDE following a radical physical trauma; which is a common way for our psychic “receptors” to be activated. Our research has determined that in some cases of head wound, there is a “jolt” or “jump start” to the region of the central nervous system that we believe administrates psychic abilities (whether they be astral projection; Psychometry, or as here – awareness of the Near Death Vision).
In the case of this young woman, she was struck by a speeding automobile on a crosswalk. Had she not been rushed to the hospital immediately, she would have died on the spot. The loss of blood was considerable.
Even given state-of-the-art medical care, Theresa fell into a coma for some time following her head injury, and it was at this stage of quiescence that one of her nurses (and I suspect, my secret but reliable informant…) began to detect odd occurrences in her ward room. Curtain shades suddenly flying up to reveal the sun upon daybreak, and so forth. No doubt this was the first significant clue that another “new human” had been “activated.”
My urgent task was to contact Theresa and hone her abilities before her friends and family could encourage her to suppress these powerful new changes in her physiology. At the moment of psychic “dawning” as it is called in the field, there is, for lack of a better description, a fight or flight instinct that comes into play for most of us.
Either the percipient “fights” for the vision to take hold and desires to learn more about this new pathway; or conversely slips into denial and old patterns, permitting society’s myriad pressures to dismiss and debunk the changes going on inside the brain. Once the “flight” mentality has taken hold (and this stage often takes the form of a suicide attempt), it is exponentially harder to assist a psychic in the process of accepting his or her legitimate abilities and status as different.
Instead, what occurs is nearly Freudian in its psychological elegance and simplicity. That which is repressed (in this case, telepathy, ESP and psychic visions…) begins to bleed out from the subconscious in unhealthy, unhelpful forms…often taking the form of nightmares, hallucinations, or precognition.
A footnote: Professor P. Darrow’s research indicates the marked propensity for this particular happening as occuring in religious households or environs (Darrow; Seeing the Light Now, Americas University Press, 2018, pages 332-334), though why religious belief or denomination should affect who experiences the “dream” is baffling. IT is something I have seen no empirical evidence of in my own studies. At least not yet.
Regardless, when Theresa emerged from her coma, I waited an appropriate length of time, and then made my first visit. Having known her now for several years, it’s difficult to go back to the moment of our first meeting; to re-experience this remarkable young woman as she was then and there, in that snapshot of time: a frightened young girl reckoning with a larger – and more frightening - world for the first time.
The first thing that struck me about Theresa was her inarguable, virtually transcendent physical beauty. A delicately-lined face housed inquisitive but absolutely penetrating and dark eyes, and her lips were like bee-stings: curved and ample. Her skin had seemingly formed itself in an immaculate presentation, sans blemish or discoloration, and there was a mysterious, almost saturnine mystery underlying her very appearance. The first time her enigmatic, inscrutable eyes met mine, the meeting nearly took my breath away. I sensed from those orbs many things. Intellect, curiosity, and not some small degree of cunning. Theresa was clever and careful. That much I understood immediately.
For a short time, Theresa was reluctant to open up to me about the specifics of her vision. I could tell she was sizing me up; trying to figure out if I was “for real.” But after a few visits and some assurances that I was no callow interloper, but genuinely who I claimed to be, she began to tell me about her NDE. About “the dream.”
Or more accurately…the nightmare as it had become.
As described in Chapter Three: The House: Why the NDE Changed and What it Shows Us Now, the light at the end of the tunnel had given way to something…less pleasant and far less welcoming. Specifically, an endless corridor of blackness.
As Theresa described it to me, it was like being surrounded – nay bathed - in the spirit of nighttime. But no stars; no street lights, no illumination whatsoever broke the hold of the pervasive darkness.
Instead, Theresa likened the corridor of ebony to that hair-raising moment when you first enter a dark room and can make out absolutely no detail whatsoever. In such circumstances, our eyes rapidly adjust to the darkness and soon, like a curtain rising, details begin to emerge and we can make out the things and objects that surround us. This patch of darkness was creepily different because that moment of blackness lingered and lingered. Unchanging and seemingly eternal.
Except, Theresa noted, for one measly, infinitesimal pinprick of light. A point of illumination nearly microscopic at first. And for a long time.
Theresa remembers dwelling in that blackness for what felt like an extended period of time before even recognizing the existence of that speck of bright dust; that island of sunlight in the surrounding moat. She couldn’t even say for certain whether she approached the light in the abyss; or it approached her. But however it happened, the point of light eventually coalesced itself into a recognizable if baffling shape.
A two-story Victorian house. One constructed in the early years of the 20th century, she estimated. Floating alone in that quiet sea of solitude and emptiness. Clapboard boards ran horizontally across the house’s breadth; yellowed paint peeling and alligatoring. A black metal roof separated a pillared porch (replete with swing...) from second story. On the front left-hand side of the house was a tall gable, topped off, on the uppermost level by a small rectangular bit of gingerbread detailing. At the bottom of this section was a kind of three-prong bump-out featuring three large windows. What existed behind the windows - inside - was obscured by closed curtains.
But it was the front door that quickly drew Theresa’s attention.
I asked her why this was so. She noted that it offered her the most clear and unfettered peek inside this unusual domain. What struck her as significant about this proved to be vital to our understanding of the NDE. What she could visually inspect of the house’s inside was this: the house's interior appeared as empty and as endless as the blackness outside the house.
Emptiness inside emptiness.
TO BE CONTINUED…