Through the Third Eye; Book 1 of Third Eye Trilogy

by Bob Frank

  Shali said, “I’ve never had any bad regressions since we’ve been working together. Have you ever seen any bad ones in the years before that? You know, blowouts during or after a session?”

  “Nah, not really.” Clay looked back at her and said, “The secret government studies say that attempts to access or confront previous lives could have emotional or psychological effects, but it is usually beneficial. It’s basically the same as what shrinks do when they try to fix people’s problems with hypnosis. But PLR Protocol 75 shields them from any knowledge of their previous lives anyway.”

  Shali said, “I’m ready to test the headphones.”

  Clay turned some dials and clicked the keyboard. “Are you getting it?”

  Shali pulled back her long, silky black hair and lifted the headphones to her right ear. “Good.” She could hear the sound-generator pumping low, throbbing Alpha wave frequency pulses to her brain. The pulses helped drive brain waves down to a low frequency where regressions were optimized.

  Shali lifted the futuristic looking goggles to her eyes. “Give me a check on the goggles.” Clay clicked more buttons and purplish colors flashed rapid sequences in sync with the headphone Alpha waves. She picked up a small flexible skull cap with its attached electrodes and set it on the back of the chair, waiting for their regression subject. The cap would send magnetic pulses to the right and left sides of the brain at different times during the regression to help manage the subconscious mind. Shali knew PLR was heavily influenced by sensory control over the mind. She recalled Clay’s jest that they should also have a smell gadget in case someone wanted hot buttered popcorn during their regression.

  Shali then laid out a set of EKG-like skin pulse pads with dangling electrodes. The micro-pulse generator was a key component to the protocol. The pads sent micro-frequency pulses to shock several critical points on the body at various times. The pulses were not automatic but act more like a cattle prod when they wanted to stimulate the subject’s soul to respond.

  Shali put a pair of the pads on the large shoulder muscles on either side of her neck. “I’m ready for the first pad test. Hit the shoulders.” Clay pressed some buttons. Her neck and shoulders twisted in slight convulsion. “Whew. Good.” The shoulder pulses were used to slap the soul around to get their attention.

  She put another pair of pads on her forearms. “Hit the foot pads.” When Clay pressed more buttons, her arms jerked back against her body. These pads were placed on the balls of the feet under a pair of wool socks. The foot pads stimulated the subject into progressing forward through the regression if they hesitated. Shali picked up the fifth, smaller single micro-pulse pad and moved it toward her forehead. She paused, then moved the pad to her forearm. “Hit the Third Eye.” Clay pressed a button. Shali’s arm jerked and she let out a small “Whoa. A little too hot.” Clay made an adjustment and tried again. “Perfect. We should be ready.”

  She looked over to Clay and raised her eyebrows in inquiry. “I know it seems to work, but do you really think the Third Eye pulse makes a difference? And don’t bull me, I was raised a Hindu, you know. My mom still wears her dot on the Third Eye.”

  “At first, I had trouble accepting this Third Eye aspect of the protocol,” Clay admitted. “Yeah, I knew of its spiritual significance in Hindu, Buddhist and Kabbalah traditions, and even in yoga, chi-gong, karate, meditation and martial arts, but I still couldn’t see its value. Then I read translations of some seven-hundred-year-old Rosicrucian documents. That’s when I saw a physiological connection between the Third Eye and the pituitary and pineal glands. By stimulating the Third Eye with the pulses, I suspect the human body is induced to a higher state of focus through an injection of natural chemicals into the nervous system. I don’t really understand it, but the scientists who developed it at Stanford Research Institute were a lot smarter than I am.”

  Shali responded, “I must have watched hundreds of past-life regression videos on YouTube. Every once in a while I’d see the PLR hypnotist lean over and push the subject’s forehead when they wanted the subject to focus or dig deeper.”

  “You got it: pop the third eye. That’s all we’re doing.”

  A few minutes later, their Iqbal knocked on the hotel suite door. After introductions and a ten minute orientation in Arabic by Shali, they got him settled in the lounge chair. She then wired up the goggles, earphones and micro-pulse pads. Clay positioned himself five feet from the young accountant and began pressing buttons on a laptop control panel. The colored bars, lights and digital readouts flickered on and off in scanning, pulsing sequences.

  Shali sat three feet to the side of the young subject, waiting for Clay’s cue. Because the PLR sessions were conducted all over the globe, her prodigal fluency in seven languages proved invaluable.

  Shali glanced at Clay and nodded. “Everything is in place. He seems comfortable and says he is ready to go.”

  Clay threw a switch and the control panel light labeled “RECORD” turned red.

  “Test — one, two — ” Strong signal readings displayed on the control panel sound meters. Bar graphs and meters on the laptop computer recording system in the next room pulsed alive with every spoken word.

  “This is Clay Barton. It is 8:52 a.m. in Amman, Jordan, on the second of February. The subject for this past-life regression is Iqbal Al-Suhari, subject KC8273-VD5532; suspected soul is ID number SE49-5433. I am assisted by Shali Faisal as session facilitator and translator. The objective of the session is hypnosis and regression of the subject to previous lives. This will be followed by attempted transition to the life-between-lives realm for interaction with the soul. Because the subject has only agreed to one regression session, we will attempt direct interaction with the subject’s soul, guide or other elder souls in the LBL of today’s session. Subject is cooperative and understands the possible consequences of participating in this regression. PLR Protocol 75 is being used, as pre-regression hypnotic examination using PLR Protocol 14 revealed easy adaptation to Protocol 75. There are no indications that the subject will experience adverse or lingering side effects from the regression.”

  Clay started up a sequence of computerized processes on his console. He monitored feedback meters on the control panel as the computer in the next room pumped out digital signals to the various gadgets wired up to the young Jordanian. The Alpha sounds, video flashes and micro-pulse generator made different parts of Iqbal’s body twitch in planned sequences as the computer ran through its initial preparations.

  Several minutes later, the meters showed that Iqbal had reached a proper state of readiness. Clay nodded to Shali to begin the first hypnotic script. She spoke to Iqbal in Arabic, using a script from the four-inch-thick protocol binder. Each section of the binder was carefully tabbed, sub-tabbed and indexed with a letter-number system. Shali’s hypnotic directions to Iqbal were slow and monotone with several-second pauses between each statement.

  “Iqbal, you are feeling very relaxed and comfortable. Relax your entire body, one part at a time, as I direct you. Start at the top of your head. You can sense your hair, every strand of hair. Your hair is completely relaxed, and now you feel a tingling sensation in your scalp. The skin on top of your entire head is tingling with relaxation. Experience and enjoy the wonderful sensation as your head relaxes and releases all stress and tension.”

  Shali paused five seconds. “Your forehead is now completely relaxed. Relax those wrinkles on your forehead and make the skin lay flat. The wrinkles are disappearing as you relax. The wrinkles on your forehead are now gone. You feel a slow rush of warmth and a tingling sensation flowing down the side of your head, across your temple, slowly down across your ears like a warm flowing liquid, relaxing your every muscle, relieving you of every concern in the world. You have no worries, no problems, no feelings, no emotions — simply total relaxation.”

  Clay noticed Iqbal sink back deep in the lounge chair, his head turning slightly to the left. His neck twisted a bit to the right and then to the left as he e
xperienced sensations he had probably never experienced before. He entered a deep level of hypnotic trance. Clay reviewed the monitors, dials and digital readouts. Having done regressions for five years, he could tell Iqbal was a good subject. He nodded to Shali to proceed.

  Shali continued with more than five minutes of standard hypnotic techniques, pushing Iqbal deeper and deeper into the trance. Clay finally looked up from the meters and gauges and made a slight slicing motion with his hand. Iqbal was deep enough. If Shali continued, he could fall into a deep sleep and then the session would be over.

  Clay made small adjustments to the intensity of the stimulation points and monitored the feedback on the meters. He grinned in silence as the protocol sequence shot small electronic shocks into Iqbal’s body parts, causing them to twitch. He motioned for Shali to move forward to the next set of scripts.

  She continued the regression in Arabic. “Iqbal, you will remember nothing from this session. During the session, you will feel no pain despite anything terrible you may see, hear or experience. You will remember nothing. You will not be physically or mentally hurt or injured during this session. Do you understand this?”

  “Yes,” he mumbled in Arabic.

  “After the session, you will remember nothing that was said or experienced during the session. Nothing. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” he said in a more vibrant acknowledgment.

  Clay watched the feeds anxiously. Within a few hours, they should know if this was the target he had been seeking for the last several years.

  "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

  Albert Einstein

  Part I - Search of the Past

  Chapter 2

  Clay motioned for Shali to continue, and in response she turned to the next tab in the script book.

  “Iqbal, look ahead of you. You should see a very long hallway with doors on both sides. The hallway reaches as far as you can see. Each door leads to a different life you have lived before. One of those doors leads to a life that you lived almost two thousand years ago. Walk down the hallway until you reach that life. When you get to that door, I want you to stop and look at it.” Shali paused and then said, “Are you in front of the door yet?”

  “No.”

  Clay could tell where she was on the script and that Iqbal was having trouble moving down the imaginary hallway. He turned the knob for the micro-pulse to the balls of his feet and pressed a button. Iqbal’s ankles and feet twitched as the pulse generator sent him small micro-shocks.

  “Continue walking down the hall.” Shali paused for five seconds, and then repeated, “Continue walking until you reach — ”

  “Yes. I am there, at the door.”

  “Good. Open the door and walk into the room. Look around and tell me what you see.”

  There was a long pause. Clay knew where Iqbal was and lifted his hand to signal Shali to wait. After another five seconds, he nodded his head for her to proceed again. As with any regression, Iqbal was at this moment experiencing a surrealistic dream-like state. His subconscious mind would be wondering if this was real or just his imagination. He was probably wondering whether he could have created an illusion from some late-night movie he had seen long ago on television.

  Shali said, “Tell me what you see. Look around slowly and tell me what is there.”

  Clay sent a small pulse to Iqbal’s shoulder muscles to stimulate his motion. Iqbal’s shoulders shrugged upward and back toward his ears. He attempted to say something, but it was unintelligible, nearly inaudible. This was normal on a first regression for any subject. Clay and Shali both knew the subconscious mind got better after warming up on a few past lives. Successive past lives almost always got better and oftentimes the regressions became almost conversational.

  Slowly, Iqbal responded in a drawl-like mumble, “Books, scrolls, manuscripts everywhere. What a mess. Piles of writings.” His tone and speed picked up. “How can anybody find anything in this room?”

  Shali looked over and smiled at Clay with a nod. “What year is it?” she asked.

  Iqbal’s head turned slightly to one side as if looking around the room. He inhaled a slow, deep breath through his nose. “Ahhh.” He breathed in another breath. “Leather — smell of leather.”

  “Can you tell what year it is in this life with all of the books?”

  Clay pressed the button for a micro-pulse shot to the Third Eye. There was some hesitation as Iqbal searched for a date in this picture. “210. 220. No, 216. Yes, 216.”

  “AD or BC?”

  “AD,” Iqbal shot right back.

  Clay understood Arabic numbers and shook his head with disappointment. He whispered almost under his breath, “Damn, missed it by two hundred years.”

  Shali glanced up at Clay’s comment but quickly refocused her attention on the regression scripts. Clay continued watching the intense yet barely perceptible expression on Iqbal’s face. He nodded for Shali to prompt for more.

  “Please go on,” she said. “What else do you see in the room?”

  “Large writing table. This is where I do my best work. The empress, she is pleased with my work — and the emperor, too.”

  “Which emperor and empress? What city are you in?”

  “Italy. Rome. No, Athens, I think. No, I can’t tell — one of those cities. I’m not outside, so I can’t tell.”

  “That’s okay. You can try later. Which empress and emperor?”

  Iqbal replied, “Emperor Severus, of course, and his wife the Empress.”

  Iqbal’s tiny smile glowed with happiness and satisfaction. Shali knew they were starting to roll, now. At least they had a subject who knew some nobility.

  She prompted, “Which empress? What is her name?”

  “Domna. Empress Julia Domna. She is pleased with my writings. Oh, she has such a full and complete library. She allows me to use the library any time I wish. The books, the scrolls, are from so many philosophers. Such very wise men. She is such a beautiful and intelligent person; she is a wonderful philosopher, herself. I know. She does not hesitate to challenge my thinking, or anyone’s thinking or words. But she welcomes debate even as the empress of Rome. She is a great woman.”

  Iqbal paused for a few seconds as if collecting his thoughts. Then he started again without any prompt, this time with a scowl on his face. “But many of the others do not like her. These other people, they have much power, and they do not like her. They believe she is too philosophical; she challenges their authority, their power. She is a threat to them.”

  Shali probed, “Who are these other people?”

  Iqbal scowled even more. He jerked his head quickly to the right. Shali and Clay looked at each other in puzzlement. Shali nodded and Clay pressed the button sending a micro-pulse to the Third Eye. No reply came back.

  Iqbal’s expression turned from a serious scowl back to a satisfied smile. He continued, totally ignoring Shali’s question. “The debates we have in the atrium and the courtyards are so challenging, invigorating, absolutely exhilarating. This time is so wonderful. Yes.”

  There was a long sigh and pause as he languished in past memories. Shali quickly summarized the session for Clay. He shook his head again in disappointment at first, but then he lifted his eyebrows and nodded. “This is not exactly who we wanted to find,” Clay whispered so as not to disturb Iqbal, “but we’re close. I’ve done extensive research on this era and possible threads of lives. Even though we missed the target date by a couple of hundred years, Iqbal could still be the soul we’re looking for. But I’ll bet I know who this is anyway.”

  He signaled for Shali to move to the script in the next section. “What is your name in this life?” she asked.

  Iqbal strained to pick up a name from many lives earlier and then finally drawled, “I can’t tell exactly.”

  “Just try. What does it sound like?”

  Iqbal struggled to pronounce a name he may not have spoken for nearly two thousand years. “Something like…”

>   Clay tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling, listening carefully.

  “Filo — stratum.”

  Clay almost lip-synced under his breath in cadence with Iqbal: “Philostratus.” With a huge gloating smile, he pumped his arm in victory and whispered, “Yes!”

  Shali glanced at Clay, eyebrows squeezed inward in query. She leaned over and whispered, “Clay, give me a ten-second brief on this Philostratus.”

  He ran through a rapid-fire dissertation in hushed tones. “He was a famous Greek-Roman scholar and the author of many philosophical and historical books. He died in his mid-seventies about 250 AD. His most famous works were manuscripts on the Life of Apollonius of Tyana. We’re looking for Apollonius, because I think he might know where the secrets are hidden. I heard Iqbal say ‘Domna.’ That must be the Roman Empress Julia Domna Severus, one of the most powerful women during the entire history of the Roman Empire. If I recall, she chartered Philostratus to write about Apollonius and had a huge library that preserved many of Philostratus’ works for centuries after her death. However, the books had to be hidden to survive a series of political and religious purges. Almost every religious crusade for a thousand years tried to destroy books of any conflicting ideology, including her library.”

  “It wasn’t just religions that did that. Look at Hitler’s Kristallnacht and the Chinese Cultural Revolution in 1965. Anyway, do you think Domna’s library is what we are looking for?”

  Clay replied, “I’m not sure. It would seem too obvious. Historians think that in the six hundreds AD, the hard-core Christian Emperor Justinian destroyed a lot of what the empress had collected. She strongly supported open philosophical discussion and posed a big threat to the Christians at that time. The history books debate over her death. Some say she committed suicide about 217 AD after her son, the new emperor, was murdered in a purge of any philosophy-loving rulers and leaders. That is sort of dramatic. Others claim she simply died of breast cancer — I’d say that is more likely. That would be a strange turn for the Roman Empire; to lose one of their greatest leaders to breast cancer.”