Desert Son Trilogy: Desert Son, Wayward Soul, Spiritual Intervention (Books 1-3)

by Glenn Maynard

  “Not really, but I was dying to do it back then. Reggie just didn’t want to give me any sort of control. I’m sure that he got some information out of me, though. God did I ever want to return the favor to him just to figure out why he was acting so weird. I’m certain I could’ve gotten what I needed, though. He did it enough to me. How could I not know how? You can actually hypnotize people and send them back beyond their births, and into another lifetime.”

  “Why on earth would anyone want that?” asked Carter.

  “Carter, some people do this to find out why they have phobias. It’s a common therapy these days. This one lady had a fear of water, and she went under hypnosis to find out that she drowned when she was a nine-year old boy in 1853 in New Zealand. She went back to the actual events that took place before her final gulp.”

  Carter’s jaw dropped as this was all too much for him to swallow. He considered the idea of hypnosis, but even in this situation, he didn’t think he could go through with it. Brenda anticipated Carter’s answer. Carter debated inside his head.

  “Okay,” said Brenda. “I’ll go first.”

  “What do you mean you’ll go first?”

  “I’ll tell you…everything I know, and you hypnotize me.”

  Carter looked at Brenda, and she was dead serious. There was not even a hint of insincerity in her eyes.

  “But why?” he asked.

  “So you can see that there’s really nothing to it.”

  “And then?”

  “And then if all goes well, I’ll hypnotize you.”

  Carter felt his throat swell, but this time there was more to it than the dry climate. He couldn’t answer immediately, so Brenda took this as a yes. There was no time to waste. Carter admired her determination and confidence, and he usually just went along, and this time was no different. He knew Brenda was being extremely outlandish, but the fact that she was always moving forward automatically kicked his “follower” role into gear.

  “Just listen to my instructions, and proceed with an open mind,” she said. “It’s essential that you maintain an open mind. That’s what Reggie always told me. Stay relaxed. Forget about everything. Now I’m going to lie down on this couch, breathing in and out slowly, relaxing…relaxing…relaxing. Here, I’ll write down verbatim what you need to do. All you have to do is read. It’ll be impossible to screw up. My first time was flawless with Reggie, and believe me, I was probably more scared than you are now. Unfortunately, he was getting so close to going under that he stopped the process. I very nearly had him under my control.”

  Carter had been volunteered. He remembered thinking how Brenda’s persistent personality first attracted him to her, but now she was lying on the couch, having put the instructions in his hand, and the ball was in his court. He didn’t want to let her down, and besides, she was acting on his behalf. Brenda had already written half of a page before he realized that he was actually going to do this type of therapy. The word “therapy” sounded so much easier on Carter’s mind than did “hypnosis.”

  He began thinking along the lines of doing this therapy. He figured that as long as he studied the page beforehand, and then just asked questions, he’d be okay. The moaning continued in the other room, each moan putting Martin closer to the other side, and each moan increasing.

  Brenda lay on the couch, her eyes closed and facing the ceiling. She fit on the couch entirely without hanging her feet off the end, or putting her head on her arm. Straight away she lay, awaiting Carter’s commands.

  “Close your eyes,” Carter said.

  “They are.”

  “Relax…from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes. Pretend you’re lying on the beach…fading…fading…fading…and your entire world consists of crashing waves…crashing waves…whoosh…whoosh…whoosh…slapping the shore…relax…fading…let yourself go. Whoosh…fading…slapping the shore…sunshine tanning your skin…heating your smile…going…going…gone.”

  Carter didn’t want to hesitate for fear that he’d have to start over. He just did not know what to expect, so he performed exactly as he was informed. He just assumed that Brenda was under hypnosis, and returned to the sheet. The instructions directed him to repeat the first step several times, which he did before moving on to the remaining steps in the process. Then he continued to speak.

  “Brenda, you’re going to go back to your birth, and describe everything you know.”

  Carter stopped and lifted his eyes from his notes. Staring at Brenda, he awaited her first response, still not certain as to the authenticity of this approach. But he was still very shocked that she answered his first question.

  “It’s 1976, and Ames is the city of my birth…Iowa.”

  Carter smirked when he was able to compute and confirm her age, but the thrill was short-lived because he had a job to do.

  “What kind of birth? Was it…”

  “A natural birth…six pounds and four ounces.”

  “What color hair and eyes do you have?”

  “No hair and closed eyes.”

  Carter looked down at Brenda’s face, but deep down wondered if she was just playing around, acting if she really was hypnotized, just so it would seem so simple, and she could try it on him. Then he would have to do it. So instead of asking her final question, he paused in order to throw another question at her…one that might surprise her. Carter noticed something very odd about Brenda as he looked up, prepared to hit her with his own question. He looked at Brenda’s face. He thought it strange that she had tucked her body into a fetal position. Brenda remained catatonic throughout the entire birthing period, until Carter moved ahead.

  “Brenda,” he said, “who was president when you were born?”

  Carter smirked at this question, thinking that he had her. He was almost ready to laugh as he expected her to do the same.

  “Jimmy Carter.”

  The smirk was erased, but Carter dismissed the results as far too easy of a question to gage the results. The smirk returned to his face as he thought of another.

  “What years were your parents born in and who were the presidents?” Carter knew he had her now.

  “My father was born in 1952 and my mother was born in 1956. Dwight D. Eisenhower was president in his first term when my father was born. Dwight D. Eisenhower was president in his second term when my mother was born.”

  Carter didn’t even know the answer himself. He wondered if she knew that he didn’t know, or maybe she knew because she was really good in U.S. presidents. He thought of another question that might do the trick.

  “What event in your lifetime led to your onset of asthma?”

  “That happened before my birth,” she answered.

  Carter stopped, and looked at Brenda, but she wasn’t laughing yet. He wondered how it was possible for her to have developed asthma before she was even born, and then it occurred to him that it could help her if he got that answer for her when she came to. Maybe her parents had it, he thought.

  Carter put his notes down. He was beyond them now. He needed a couple of slow breaths in and out before continuing into this uncharted territory, expecting to discover that something happened during her mother’s pregnancy. Ignoring Martin’s screams, Carter spoke.

  “Brenda, go to a period of time beyond your birth as Brenda, and to the time when you developed asthma.”

  “Oh, please no. Stop it this instant. I cannot breathe. I cannot breathe.”

  “Yes you can,” Martin said just loudly enough for them to hear. Then he let out a howl that made Carter jump. It was a horrifying shriek.

  Carter stared in disbelief at the lady in front of him. It was certainly not the g
irl who lied down originally, but the shell was the same. He then became okay with everything, owning the power that he now had. However, he knew that his lack of proper training could very well be dangerous. Carter felt that he had to press on, and he was never more intrigued to do so. As much as he knew the possible danger, he was too deep into the therapy to turn back. Brenda had done a great job convincing him of the simplicity of the process.

  Hypnotherapy seemed so honest to Carter. He was already convinced of its purity, or seemingly so, and began looking toward this approach as perhaps the only answer. He began to feel that he had absolutely nothing to lose. Hypnosis was merely a deep trance, enabling a person to look within for answers. Hypnosis was innocent, and apparently very effective. He felt compelled to view this approach as merely a sign he must follow. He wasn’t supposed to disregard a thing, per Brenda, so he became determined to push on with it. The encouraging beginning gave him the encouragement and guts to push onward.

  Carter was unsure whether long pauses would be detrimental to his work, and he certainly did not want to lose his progress. He felt the hunger of a reporter with a voracious appetite. Moans continued bellowing from the other room. Some moans were severe, but Carter barely noticed them over his deep concentration as doctor.

  “Are you describing your death?”

  “Yes…yes, yes…oh it’s awful!”

  That did not even sound like Brenda, Carter thought. He listened not to a heavy accent, by any means, but a slight western twang, which was more so just not Brenda’s voice.

  “Describe the environment you’re now experiencing,” said Carter, feeling proud that he successfully made it on his own as far as this hypnosis, but not too proud as to feel comfortable with it. He knew it was still a delicate approach, and continued to treat it as such.

  “Stop it!” Brenda screamed.

  “Stop what?” Carter asked.

  “Get your God damn hands off me!” she responded.

  Carter became uncomfortable, looking around with head-jerks. He didn’t know what Brenda was getting at, and he knew he hadn’t even touched her.

  “Brenda,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

  “Martin, stop it! Please don’t!”

  “I’m not,” said the distant Martin. There was a thunderous sound of furniture, possibly the tall bureau crashing to the ground.

  Brenda began sobbing uncontrollably. She was losing control of herself and Carter just wanted to end this little experiment. Carter also knew that he couldn’t. He was in this much too deep. He looked around again, and then returned to his subject.

  “Brenda,” he said, “You have to tell me…”

  “I’m not gonna tell you again, Martin. Get your God damn hands off me!”

  “Brenda,” Carter called out to her.

  “Stop calling me Brenda!” she demanded. “My name is Shirley!”

  Carter straightened up from his crouch. This blew him into an upright position, and his eyes could not have gotten wider. He knew that Brenda was under hypnosis, but he was confused as to why she would impersonate Martin’s wife.

  “Stop strangling me Martin. I can’t breathe!”

  “Why is Martin strangling you?” Carter asked.

  Brenda continued to cry, but now Carter could not understand her.

  “Shirley,” said Carter, wanting to play the game. “Why is Martin doing this to you?”

  “Oh damn,” she said. “I just loved him so very much.”

  “You loved Martin a lot did you?” Carter asked.

  “No you ass,” she said. “I loved Darren.”

  Carter paused, unsure of which direction to go. For the first time during the experiment, he felt like he was getting too much information. He thought about the situation he was evoking. His father had been loved by a married woman, and this all took place under the same roof. He wondered how far Shirley took it, and the fact that Martin was trying to hurt her made him believe his father was having an affair with Shirley. This drew many more questions into his mind.

  “Did Darren love you, Shirley?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes…very much,” she answered, and her sobs transformed into a smile.

  “What year is this?” he asked.

  “It’s 1974.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Why I’m in Boulder, Colorado.”

  Carter’s head became numb. Again he considered the fact that Brenda was faking, but that possibility was shrinking fast. She would have won an Emmy had she been faking. Carter was able to dismiss that idea immediately by this point in time, but he did have to entertain the thought. He looked at Brenda, thinking that she was coming full circle. Then he thought about this life as Shirley. Then he thought about Shirley’s affair with Darren, who was his father. He thought again about her affair with his father. Again, she had an affair with his father. This was getting far too complicated for him.

  Carter looked like he was ready for a transfusion when he realized what was happening here. It seemed as if he was supposed to lose his parents in the accident. He sat next to Brenda, staring down at her, wondering exactly how many years he’d loved her. Talk about full-circle, he thought to himself. He tried to dismiss the thought, but his brain wouldn’t process the dismissal. He simply could not get past these developments.

  As much as he was afraid to learn more of this story, he badly needed it. He impulsively pushed on, focusing on the fact that this was all in the past and Brenda was now. This whole reincarnation phenomenon had been a bit much for Carter, but now he was face to face with it and firmly entrenched. Now he felt directly responsible for what was happening all around him. He thought about his father, and wished that it was his father’s spirit that had come for Martin. Then Carter could at least resolve his identity issue because his father’s spirit would be separate from his spirit; a process of elimination. He always heard expressions about a son having a little bit of his father in him, but this was a bit much. Carter was beginning to understand why he had such an instant attraction to Brenda.

  “Tell me about the moments leading up to your death,” he continued.

  “Oh. I want to live. I don’t regret this though. I was so unhappy, and Darren was so good to me. I loved that man, and we knew we had to be together.”

  “What happened? Who changed that?”

  “Nobody can. He tried though.”

  Carter looked at Brenda as she said this with a wide grin, but her eyes remained shut.

  “Who ended your life?” he asked.

  “Martin and I…problems…always problems. Then one day…he returned home…before the time. He got the surprise of his life. He always did love me…not as much as the young man…not as completely. Then after the young man ran out of the house, I was left to defend myself. I promised Darren that someday again…”

  Carter just watched as Brenda rambled on, and then noticed perspiration building on her forehead. He knew that she couldn’t have perspired using phony emotions. He took a long pause to think about this reincarnation crap. He felt his head tighten from fear of getting her through this with no ill effects. But he figured he could talk her back, or just snap his fingers like they did in the movies when he wanted this test to end. Brenda would then return. Carter wanted to confirm who Brenda was before her birth, never imagining that knowledge of her past was knowledge of his own past and crucial information he so badly needed.

  “Brenda,” he said, “did your husband kil…”

  “My name is Shirley, not Brenda, kid.”

  “Not I,” came the claim from the other room. The wind surge continued, picking up in intensity a bit.

  Carter’s eyeballs
enlarged as he pulled himself back. He was consumed by deep thought. He thought that this would be too much of a coincidence for him to happen upon the reincarnation of Shirley, and lead her back to her home. The package was too neat, too crisp. But then he remembered what Brenda had said about people who reincarnate having strong attachments to their old lives, and tend to reincarnate back into their old families. She never mentioned that it could be done in such a roundabout way, but surely, Carter thought… if the attraction is there.

  “Shirley,” he said, hoping the answer was not what he had expected. “What’s your husband’s name?”

  “Martin,” she said. “My husband’s name is Martin.”

  She said it twice, Carter thought. There’s no way that she messed up. She sounded very sure of herself, and honesty cannot take a backseat during this type of trance. His worst nightmare surfaced, but things began falling into place. Carter’s life now made some sense, and actually had meaning. It made sense, Carter thought, that Martin was so weird about the portrait, and that he had such a strong aversion to Brenda. Carter thought it was bad when he had asked about the portrait, but Brenda was physically assaulted by a man who had lost control. And then there was Brenda’s asthma.

  “Brenda,” said Carter purposely.

  “Shirley,” she responded.

  “No, Brenda. I want Brenda. Bring Brenda back.”

  Carter had had enough. He just wanted Brenda now, and wanted to forget about history. It was much too creepy for him, and he just wanted to return to this lifetime.

  “Bring Brenda back,” he demanded.

  “Who’s Brenda?”

  Carter paused, trying to think of a simple answer, but none came. Of course Shirley wouldn’t know Brenda. After all, Brenda came after her lifetime. He felt that he could not leave Brenda in Shirley’s most painful moments any longer. He wanted her back, and he needed her back. Although he had been given instructions to hypnotize Brenda, he had no information on how to return her from a past life. Carter was gravely concerned at this point. After all, he would just keep trying. Easy come, easy go, he thought. He would keep trying.