Prior to Gloria coming to see me, I had left her plethora of diagnoses and reports on my crafts table tucked inside my DSM-IV diagnostic manual that I used for pressing garden flowers. When Gloria came in to see me, I was struck by her small stature and thick auburn hair that hung lifelessly around her drawn moist face. She looked like she hadn’t sleep or seen the light of day for some time. She looked haggard.
What held my attention was her large, prominent brown eyes that displayed fear and dread. She was emotionally tense and expressed strong ambivalence about seeking help. She spoke incessantly with pressured speech about her anger at her doctor for thinking she was crazy and, worse, she feared I would. She described feeling like a concentration camp survivor who no longer had any meaning or purpose in life and anyone left who needed her. She expressed deep discouragement and hopelessness about her life and felt she had lost her will to live. However, she denied suicidal thoughts.
Gloria was beside herself with fear and anger. She irately complained about a girl above her head, in the upstairs apartment, who made alarming noises: clicking, stomping, banging sounds that disturbed her sleep and terrified her. She further complained that she had visions of wild animals on her ceiling that frightened her in the night. She expressed her fear that she would go insane if she knew she was imagining the noises she heard.
Despite her damning diagnoses, her distraught presentation and apprehension that teetered on panic, I had an overwhelming hunch there was something more beneath her panicky condition. I was most concerned with her mounting nightmares and dangerous sleepwalking episodes. However, because of her desperate emotional turmoil and inability to reflect on her experience with me, I decided to hypnotize her. I felt hypnosis would facilitate rapport and trust, on a deeper level, and help establish a good personal relationship with her. Given her combative stance, which reflected her deep-seated fear that I would think her crazy, I felt her unconscious offered the best solution to our budding conflict and impasse. The absurdity of my own anxious reaction to Gloria’s rising panic would only strike me funny later.
I told Gloria I understood why she was upset and reminded her I was a hypnotherapist. I asked her if I could help her relax and that she would not experience or express anything she didn’t want to. I emphasized that I would protect her so that she wouldn’t experience too much distress or emotional discomfort at any one time. This simple suggestion seemed to calm her and she agreed. Her body’s response to trance was palpable as she slumped relaxed in the chair. She was a virtuoso hypnotic subject and perhaps this was the source “spontaneous trance” of her unexplained and bizarre symptoms and behavior.
Gloria was a deep hypnotic subject and I immediately accessed her unconscious that called itself the “Helper” that stated she wanted to help Gloria. She began to describe traumatic childhood experiences in disjointed sequences that Gloria had suffered. She said they were responsible for Gloria’s terror, strange visions, and erratic behavior. The Helper had access to knowledge and information beyond Gloria’s conscious awareness. She also was able to observe and reflect on Gloria’s inner experience and behavior with penetrating objectivity. She said that Gloria was giving her trouble because she was resisting and afraid of change, and that she was remembering the past too fast and becoming terrified and emotionally withdrawn. She emphasized Gloria saw no reason to live and wanted to die because she was afraid to love since she equated love with pain.
Here, in our first contact, Gloria’s Helper began to outline Gloria’s psychological crisis and some of the difficulties that would lie ahead, for both of us, to reach and help Gloria. Because Gloria’s nightmares were the focal point of her terror and emotional disturbance and her emerging awareness of her underlying trauma, I suggested to the Helper that when Gloria awoke from a nightmare that she put Gloria in a trance and write down what was terrifying her, rather than Gloria being trapped in a confused state of arousal that caused her to rave at her upstairs neighbor or sleepwalk. I wanted to thwart any further perilous behavior and events. The Helper was receptive to my post-hypnotic suggestion and felt she could carry it out. At the conclusion of this session Gloria awoke feeling more relaxed and without any sign of pressured speech, fear, anger or panic that she had presented with. A good outcome, I thought.
However, intuitively I felt Gloria’s therapy would be like a combat soldier, on hands and knees, deftly placing a knife in a mine field’s dirt, then gently probing to get through the maze of mines without getting blown to pieces. Likewise, I had to be vigilant not to plunge her further into madness or suicide.
In our following session Gloria arrived looking perplexed holding a sealed envelope addressed to me, stating that she had found the envelope in her home but did not know who wrote it or how it got there. She brought it to me because it was addressed to me. I reassured her that she had done the right thing and should bring any further letters to me. She accepted this suggestion without question.
This odd but critical development in our relationship Gloria seemed to intuitively trust. Thus began her hypnotic dream therapy and our quest. Over the strange course of her healing journey with me, she would bring me 202 sealed letters that I would read and then conduct her hypnotherapy. Amazingly, Gloria never read one of them or ever asked what was in them. She had put her entire trust in me—had put her life in my hands—from the first day we met.
PART ONE
THE WOUNDED CHILD
Gloria’s Helper initially referred to herself as “Me” in her automatic writings and then later identified herself as the “Helper” and then “Gloria’s Helper.” She never once claimed to be a separate personality or even hinted she was. She had no distinct name or identity. From the beginning, she simply saw herself as the Helper, who I believe was a creative aspect of Gloria’s Higher Self—dare I say her SOUL, who assumed the role of co-therapist providing essential information and encouragement for the resolution of Gloria’s chronic post-traumatic condition.
Gloria’s Helper, at times, transformed the child or little girl into a boy to help detach and distance herself from violent, crushing emotions and traumatic events she witnessed. Then she could objectively report what she saw and heard without being swept away by a tsunami of emotion. Likewise, she skillfully used the word dream or nightmare to create a healthy detachment from the real traumatic events, so she could control and deal with them to protect Gloria. She also masterfully used temporary forgetting, emotional numbing, and dissociation when overwhelmed to shield them both until they could emotionally recover enough to continue to face Gloria’s mind-crippling fears, depression, and the terrifying truth.
Interestingly, her automatic handwriting was like chicken scratch because her hand flew across the page while writing in trance. Similarly, intense fears and mental pressure would sometimes cause her writing to become almost illegible. At one point, she actually switched from a medium to a fine point pen, so I might better understand her writing. She often used em-dashes instead of punctuation to avoid impeding the flow of her traumatic memories, thoughts, and emotions. I chose not to edit her automatic writing for style, grammar, or punctuation so you could fully appreciate the raw and graphic power of her written word.
Moreover, the task of typing her handwritten letters was, at times, perplexing and taxing for me. Occasionally, I would painstakingly stare at a word or phrase with a magnifying glass for long periods of time as if Sherlock Holmes looking for a cryptic clue, before I could decipher its meaning from the blur of misshapen letters. Nevertheless, I vowed to transcribe her automatic writings precisely to reveal the depth of terror and agony she suffered and her epic struggle to heal and become whole.
It is essential for you to understand that the issue of abuse was never broached consciously with Gloria; so no insinuation or suggestion of abuse, by this hypnotherapist, influenced Gloria’s Helper’s automatic letters. They were solely the product of Gloria’s Helper’s observations, which the nightmares exposed.
You may also wond
er whether the memories revealed in her nightmares were historically accurate. Unfortunately, her memory’s accuracy about her childhood abuse could never be corroborated, since the traumatic events had happened over 55 years ago. Furthermore, to cloud the issue more, the existence of repressed and recovered memories remains a controversial topic in psychology. Nevertheless, Gloria’s automatic letters were central to her recovery and healing.
The development of a deep foundation of trust, caring, and commitment was necessary to my being accepted by Gloria, Gloria’s Helper, and her heavenly resources that allowed me to help her and Gloria’s Helper weather the devastating and life-threatening emotional storms they would face. Gloria’s story is a hero’s journey and a tribute to the human spirit and not for the faint of heart.
AUTOMATIC LETTER 1
Thursday night, 1:45 AM
Dear Nice Person,
I’m here to help Gloria. Also to try to make a list about the reasons why Gloria is afraid of the girl upstairs – something is wrong here. Gloria is not afraid of the woman upstairs. What she is afraid of, is not knowing how to cope with another experience beyond her control.
3:35 AM
Detached under pressure – standing away from the noise. Here, again to help Gloria and you to get to the bottom of something important. Gloria thinks she recalled everything about an incident she experienced at the “grey house.” She didn’t!
Feels trapped, the sense of being tricked, the terror, the feeling of entrapment.
Together, we can get to the bottom of this. I know everything. Please count on me. I will be glad to hear from you if you have anything to suggest.
Me
AUTOMATIC LETTER 2
Early Thursday morning
Hi again,
I’m here to help you get to the bottom of what’s troubling Gloria. I’m able to sit back and see the flow of thoughts and feelings regarding an incident at the “grey house.” My throat feels dry and tight. I’m not sick because it doesn’t feel like being sick. But it hurts! I don’t know what is hurting me – now I remember, how it is to be 12 years old and humiliated. I’m caught in here, inside of these walls. I’m stepping back from those feelings so I can make myself put them on paper for you to know. I’ll simply state what comes to mind even if it doesn’t make sense – hands jerked behind – tied with brutal force – numbing shock – terror – filled time – betrayal one shadow unaccounted for, alone, horribly alone, totally alone – waves of despair seem to crash over me – feeling trapped like an animal in a cage – overwhelmed by misery, feeling numb, hopeless, broken. I feel like crying but, I can’t – feeling trapped – anguish – fear – terror – one shadow at top of stairs has no face, no body – panic betrayal of trust – despair there is no way out.
I won’t read back what has been put down here because now I’ve become filled with tension. In so far as I am able, I’ll try to be honest with myself and will communicate myself honestly to you. I’ll be glad to hear from you again.
Me again
AUTOMATIC LETTER 3
Sunday night
Hi again,
Gloria dreamed. Horrible dreams. She twisted in her bed like a struggling animal trying to free itself from a trapper’s snare. She dreamed of her mother. Harsh words began to fly and voices began to rise. But it was the mother who had the words that cut deep.
“This family was so much happier when you weren’t here,” she said. As usual it was not the sharp words that struck at Gloria’s heart. It was the coldness in her voice, the conviction of her tone and the hatred in her eyes. And it was her manner, not the words that brought a trembling to her body even now as I relive the dream. I sensed the conversation was headed for trouble and soon it was.
“You’re disgusting,” she said to Gloria. “You turn my stomach Gloria, you always have,” she proclaimed. There was no stopping her now.
“Why are you doing this?” Gloria asked, holding back tears.
“I can’t remember a time when I could stand the sight of you. You’ve always made me sick!” she continued without losing control or coldness. “I hate you. I hate everything you are, everything you’ve always been and I can’t remember a time when I didn’t
She was delivering the same fury and hostility as in other dreams but this time it was not in shrieks and screams, it was in words and intensity. She meant what she was saying and we both knew it.
“I can’t listen to any more of this,” said Gloria.
“Are you going to tell me that you didn’t know this before?”
Gloria could not answer her, she wasn’t ready to accept it now even though she had sensed it from previous conversations and she woke up struggling to escape her mother’s words.
Me again
AUTOMATIC LETTER 4
Thursday night
Dear “Rock of Gibraltar,”
I’m glad to be here, gratified that there’s a way not to leave Gloria in the lurch. The noise woke up Gloria again (the noises are real, someone repeatedly wakes Gloria up, several times each night). For some reason nothing now strikes me as unbelievable. It’s just the way things are when you live in an apartment with thin walls.
I’m now detached, standing away from the noise and have something that needs to be said.
When Gloria woke up and didn’t know why she was feeling upset so much by noise, I was going to try to give her some relief by taking over but didn’t get the chance till now. She took out a box of things, she had kept locked up and as she looked over pictures, awards etc. she became more upset than she’d been over the nightmare she’d been having. Gloria has forgotten something important – she’s forgotten what it was like to have good things coming to you not because you’d fought hard for them, but simply because love gave them to you.
Gloria’s feelings become confused tonight when she looked at pictures of her wedding and husband. She’s confused about the “best wife” award–he gave her – she’s confused at the happiness on the face of the person in the picture with her husband taken on their honeymoon – and now I’m getting caught up in the trappings of the past. It hurts! It tires me, this pain wears out my body, but mentally if I can take one step at the time, I’ll achieve what is best for Gloria and those around her. I’ll help her in a practical but subtle way. I’m starting now by saying, “What is best for Gloria,” since she’s always putting other’s first, in the past.
I appreciate your telling me what you think and I respect your opinion. I’ll be waiting for any instructions you want to give me. Thank you for allowing me to be open with you.
Me
AUTOMATIC LETTER 5
Sunday night
Hi again,
I’m here to talk to you and to help Gloria. For years G. has cultivated the skill of turning a blind eye to her real feelings. Wasn’t always like this – don’t know how this happened to someone who was confident, unafraid for so long.
The strangest thing has happened. I seem to find myself lifted out of my body, looking down as if from a great distance. I can see a body below on the ground – it seems a tiny, disheveled thing, racked by pain.
The flood of doubts again. I want to get out from where I am. I don’t like the people, the place or anything here. I have to get out of here. Oh, it hurts! It hurts real bad – here comes those other hands – I’m trapped – no good to be this way – have to regain peace – no good feeling so sad because I’m alone.
Have regained something here so that my emotions are felt – lonesome, sad, alone just like it was then, a very lonely and sad time. Gloria was afraid to get close to people. At school, at lunch, at the end of the day G. would dash out, snubbing anyone who attempted to talk to her. It was a very lonely time this isolation period. G. did not keep away from the children because she disliked them but because being with them reminded her of what she didn’t have, a home in which there were parents, brothers and sisters, where there was no reason to always be afraid. G. convinced that herself, she didn’t need anyo
ne except. G. – what a frustrating, lonely time for me – feeling like an outcast – surrounded by strangers – expecting nothing except mistrust – rejection. If someone says, “I love you, in spite of the kind of person you are,” that doesn’t count for anything does it. It’s more like a wall or a block. Some people you have to love even when that somebody doesn’t give you too much reason to love. Seems like Gloria’s helper is getting all mixed up here, what I’m saying to you is that there are some things, I feel, I can’t deal with, here. So I’ll end this.
I will be glad to hear from you again. I hope you are able to trust me, I will try to be as honest with you as I am able to.
Till next time,
Me
AUTOMATIC LETTER 6
Wednesday night
Hi again,
Here I am away from Gloria’s body. I feel a sense of freedom more intense than I had ever imagined could exist. In this state there is only thought and a great sense of power.
There’s something that must be said here about a picture that comes to mind. It has to do with three people – two are grownup, one is a child of seven. I see the people talking to the child who nods his head, the eyes are wild and hurting – the child can’t do enough to help the two people and his eyes keep going to the clock. It’s twelve o’clock – four more grownups come out a house carrying sticks of furniture – the child seems in shock as everyone kisses the child and while everyone enters the back of a? I can’t see if it’s a truck or a wagon – all I see is that dust starts to hide the people in the back – the child starts to run toward this machine, crying, “Take me with you! Take me with you! I’ll be good. I won’t cause any trouble. Take me with you – I’ll help you.”
Gloria Rising: A Story of Hope and Survival In Dark Evil Places Page 2