by Bob Frank
Shali said to Clay, “It seems a bit weird to have this high-tech regression lab set up in a grass hut on a tropical island.”
“It certainly is more enjoyable than most places we go.” He looked over to Sogui who lifted the goggles and nodded to him. “Sogui is anxious and ready to go. Let’s get started.”
The beginning of the session went exceedingly smoothly. Sogui immediately fell into a deep trance, and the guide came forward with little coaxing. Within ten minutes, Shali was talking directly with the guide concerning the hidden secrets.
“You previously gave us the location of a large collection of hidden writings in Tibet. Do you know that these writings were destroyed?”
“Pity.”
Shali narrowed her eyes at the curt response but continued, “Do you know who planted the bombs that destroyed those writings?”
“Those who are threatened by the truth.”
“Who are these people who are threatened by the truth?”
“Those who do not wish for the truth to be known. If it was not them who destroyed the writings, it would be another.”
Shali glanced at Clay. He curled his lips and shook his head with a look of confusion.
“We are searching for another set of secret writings that are also hidden, like the first set. Can you tell us where a set is located and who is hiding it?”
“Which set?”
Clay and Shali glanced at each other again with puzzled looks. Clay repeated the guide’s question in a mime to Shali, “Which set?”
Shali shrugged her shoulders, looked back to Sogui said to the guide, “Each set. Who has each set?”
“One is kept by those who do not want the truth to be known. The other is kept by those who are afraid to let the truth be known.”
Shali rolled her eyes and shook her head but continued her questioning on the location of any other sets of hidden writings. The cryptic dialogue with the guide continued for nearly thirty minutes. Shali and Clay could not get anything definitive out of the guide; it was as if they were playing charades.
Shali leaned over to Clay and whispered, “From all of this back and forth, it sounds like there may be two sets. She used the same terminology of ‘those who do not want the truth known’ for the group that is trying to kill us and for one of the groups that has a copy of the secrets. But she doesn’t seem to want to reveal any more than that.”
Clay whispered back, “Keep probing. The answer may be hidden in all this back-and-forth chatter. We’ll transcribe the tapes later and see if we can sort out what the guide is saying. See if she knows our three friends who died in Washington.”
Shali nodded then asked the guide, “You know of the bombing in Washington that destroyed the first copy of the hidden secrets. There were three people who died in that explosion. They were Buddhist monks who were the custodians and keepers of the secrets. Do you know these three people?”
A smile grew across Sogui’s face. “Yes.”
“Do you know them well?”
“It is good to see them. They are funny.”
Sogui’s smile then grew cheek to cheek. Shali and Clay looked at each other as if humored.
“Can we talk to their souls?” asked Shali.
Sogui’s face immediately grew serious, almost scowling. The guide snapped back abruptly, “No. Resting.”
Shali looked at Clay and shrugged her shoulders with a grin. She whispered, “I tried, but, evidently they are doing well.” She continued her questioning, “Are there lives that this soul lived that you have not told us about before?”
There was a very long pause and still no response. Clay hit Sogui with a three-second micro-pulse burst to the Third Eye. Sogui’s head pressed back into the pillow and then curved hard to the right, as if trying to escape or evade the external stimulus. Still no answer.
Shali pressed Sogui for a response again: “There was a life or lives for this soul between 400 and 800 AD. Please describe those lives.” No response.
Shali asked the question again. “Tell me about the lives between 400 and 800 AD, now — please.”
Clay shot a five second micro-pulse to the Third Eye. Sogui’s body drew back into the chair as the pulse of energy surged to her forehead.
“Stop that! Irritating!”
Shali and Clay sat back in their chairs, looking at each other in surprise. She mimed to Clay, “Enough pulsing, okay?”
To their surprise, after a few moments, Sogui’s guide continued without prompting: “601 AD. Arabia. I was on the Arabian Peninsula. I was a follower of Nestorius, and I studied the Jesus Christ that the Christians followed. For many years I studied his teachings. But they distorted what Jesus intended, so I followed a different path. I made a new way.”
Clay leaned over to Shali and whispered excitedly, “Keep digging. I’ll see who was living about that time. And watch it; she flashed back into first person from the guide and is back inside the life. We knew she was hiding some lives.”
Shali continued with Sogui: “Was the person in this life famous or prominent in society?”
“Not at this time.”
“How old is this person in 601 AD, and what did he or she do?”
“I am thirty years old now. I am a merchant. I have been married for six years, and I am happy. My wife is good to me, and good for me.” There was short pause, and then suddenly Sogui continued in a very different tone of voice; the voice of the guide. “He became famous later in this life — and much more famous after this life.”
Shali and Clay looked at each other with mutual stares of excitement mixed with confusion. They leaned over to each other for a whispered conversation.
Shali asked, “What is this flipping in and out of first person, again? We were talking with the guide going through the Akashic records, then she jumped back into first person, reliving the life, then back to the guide?”
“I’ve never seen this. It looks like we’ve got both her soul and the guide conversing with us, almost as if they are competing for air-time. The soul was talking about the life but the guide just flipped in two cents of commentary.” Clay grinned. “This soul must have one hell of an ego, huh?”
“Well, look at all the famous lives she has lived. I’m going to try to focus on the guide and stay away from the soul?”
“Agreed. If you can’t keep the guide engaged, try to pull the soul into the LBL — perhaps into the library but just not in the life. Those were violent years in that region, and we don’t know what is going to happen. They could end up in a battle or a raid and get chopped up like Hypatia. And we know what happened when Sogui slipped back into Hypatia’s life.”
Shali nodded. “They have been hiding this life from us. Any idea why she might have wanted to hide a life?”
“I don’t know, but she definitely held back. Maybe she is willing to talk now because we are using Protocol 73. On the other hand, Sogui spent the last six months pre-conditioning both her soul and the guide through meditation. Maybe they are comfortable enough to let it all hang out. Keep her talking, and let’s try to find out who this person was. There is another big gap earlier in her timeline and I want to check that out too.”
Shali acknowledged and turned back to Sogui. “What is the name of the soul in this life?”
“They called me Al-Amin — Abdullah. Childhood was difficult. Everyone around me kept dying. My father died before I was born, so my mother sent me away to live in the desert with the Bedouins until I was three. She brought me back, but then she died when I was six. I never really knew her. I was passed from one family member to another. I lived with my grandfather, but he died a few years later. My uncle Abu took me into his house, but I was never really part of their family. I was like a stray dog from the street. But they were family, and at least they gave me a home. I am grateful for that. When I was twenty-five, I met Khadijah, and I finally had my true family. She was fifteen years older than me, but she loved me and I loved her. She cared for me, nurtured me. She taught me
so many things. She was like the mother I never had.”
Shali glanced at Clay and whispered, “Oedipus complex? Was this wife filling the role of a mother figure because of his troubled childhood?”
“You could be right. But it sounds like they were closely bonded souls.”
Shali turned to Sogui and continued: “Move to the place where you are between lives, and then look back at your experience in this life. Do not go into the life, only view the life after it was finished. Look at it from that special time between lives. Do you understand?
“Yes.”
“Did you and your wife, Khadijah, have children?”
“Yes, we had six children. She was a good mother and a good wife. But she died later.”
Shali probed, “When did she die and how?”
“When I was forty-nine years old, she died. She became ill and left me. It was to be expected, but I was very sad.”
“What did you do after she died?”
“I meditated. I went to my special places in the mountains and I meditated.”
“What did you learn from your mediation?”
“I began to see reality through my meditation. For ten years before she died, I would meditate in the caves. But when she left me, I would go to the caves to be alone and think and meditate. Images and visions would come to me.”
“What kind of images? Describe your mediations and what you saw.”
Sogui continued to describe the meditations for almost fifteen minutes, with Clay guiding Shali to ask a series of strange questions relating to traveling through time and space.
Afterwards, Clay motioned Shali into a short quiet discussion off to the side.
Clay leaned forward in excitement. “Two things. You are not going to believe either one.”
“Try me, Cowboy.”
“First, this person was not meditating. He was remote-viewing.”
“What?” Shali exclaimed in confusion.
“Remember how I found the PLR protocols? I told you about the SRI’s Para-Psychology Operations, PPO, and the CIA black-ops intelligence programs? There was a program for remote viewing called Stargate.”
“Come on, Clay, let’s not get into TV shows here.”
“No, no, not the TV series. There were several intelligence-funded PPO initiatives from the 1970s through the mid-nineties, and one was called Stargate. This was way before the movie and TV shows, but that is probably where they got the name. When I was cleaning out the SRI files, I read through the documentation stored in the archives about remote-viewing. This person in Sogui’s past life was not meditating; he was remote viewing. There are a bunch of famous remote-viewing weenies in that program that came from SRI. They would be proud of Sogui’s life back in the sixteen hundreds. Our soul’s life, here, was remote viewing into the future. I’m convinced. His meditating techniques were very similar to what remote viewers use, even today. But this is probably the same thing that the oracles and prophets did when they got visions of the future. Guys like Nostradamus, Edgar Cayce — ”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shali cut him off. “I’m with you so far. So our friend here was ahead of her, or his, time. He could see into the future and was a prophet. What’s the other thing?”
“Get ready. I couldn’t find this Al-Amin on the ‘net, but I’m sure I found his wife. I tried several different spellings, and it all comes back to one person: Khadijah was the wife of Mohammad — Islam’s Mohammad.”
Shali snapped, “What?”
“Yeah. Starting at about age forty, Mohammad supposedly began getting visions from God, who guided him to structure Islam. But he wasn’t necessarily talking to God; he was remote viewing the future. Think about it; it’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you have a vision of a massive battle to conquer Mecca and Medina, you are going to put together an invasion to conquer Mecca and Medina. He found the water in the desert because he saw the water in the future. He built reality into what he saw in the vision, because he believed God told him to do it.”
Shali’s face showed absolute shock. Her eyes were half-glazed and her mouth was slightly open.
Clay continued, “Tonight, go Wiki the word ‘prophecy’. All of the religions and philosophies of the world talk about prophecies, including Mohammad and Islam. These prophecies come from dreams, visions, meditation, talks with God. But I’m convinced that they are all just a form of remote viewing into the future. Or maybe it’s some form of future-life progression, like past-life regression. Remember, if the secrets are true, time is just an illusion — Einstein-style. I am willing to bet the Oracles who predicted the destruction of our writings in Washington, simply remote viewed or future-life progressed themselves to see the future destruction of the writings. Remember, one of the categories of hidden secrets had to do with time and destiny. Pema talked about that Nazi, Heidegger, who wrote the cryptic book Being and Time.” Clay looked away and whispered to himself, “Damn, I should have read that book.” He shook his head and then looked back at Shali. “I’ll bet there’s something good coded in Heidegger’s book.”
Shali was still sitting with a glazed-over look. Here she was, conversing with the soul of Mohammad. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t continue.
Sogui lay quietly in her chair with a smile of pure satisfaction.
Clay shook Shali’s arm to snap her out of her thoughts. “Shali — Shali, probe her for confirmation on her identity.”
Shali shook her head side to side, as if waking up from a trance. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
Shali continued the regression of Sogui: “In this life in the six hundreds, where your wife was named Khadijah, were you also known by the name of Mohammad?”
“Yes.”
“Did you build on a new way of life called Islam?”
“Yes.”
Shali glanced back to Clay, who now had a beaming smile on his face. He pumped his right forearm hard to the rear while miming the word, “Yes.”
Shali looked back at Sogui and asked, “After the death of Khadijah, and after you meditated, what did you do in this life?”
A smile broke onto Sogui’s face. Her sexually driven Latin personality suddenly poked into the regression, “Hola, Mama-cita, I got more wives, of course. I got myself twelve more wives before I died. Not bad for fifty years old, huh? They were much comfort to me, and so much pleasure indeed. I got all the sex from these wives that I could ever want. Oh, what a life!”
Clay and Shali glanced at each other with smiles of relief.
Sogui suddenly returned to the more serious demeanor of the soul: “Eleven wives, but none of them gave me the feelings of my love for Khadijah, not until my last wife Maria. But she was a Christian, and it was not permitted for her to be my wife. However, I secretly married her, anyway. We could tell no one that she was my wife, but we truly loved each other, more than all the others together; and we were happy to be together again.”
“What do you mean ‘again’?”
“We have lived together in many lives. We enjoy living our lives together. We are together for all time.”
Clay leaned over to Shali with a big smirk and whispered, “Now, this is what I call soul mates.”
Shali nodded acknowledgement but stayed focused on Sogui’s regression. “Tell me more about Maria. What was her full name?”
“Maria Qupthiya; they called her Maria the Copt.”
Shali looked up to Clay and pointed at his laptop. He nodded and whispered, “I’m ahead of you. I’ve got her already. Keep digging; it’s good stuff.”
Sogui’s soul continued, “My Maria was a Coptic Christian from Alexandria. She was given to me as a gift from the ruler of Egypt, Muqawqis. Some time before, I had sent a letter to the rulers of all nations, inviting them to join me in the gift of Islam. As a gift in return for my invitation, Muqawqis sent me a beautiful horse and two young maidens. The girls were sisters from a prominent family in Alexandria. But when I met Maria, my beautiful new slave girl, I immediately felt our conne
ction to the past. We were finally together again. I gave the horse and her sister to my good friend, and I secretly made Maria my wife. However, the other wives knew about her and were jealous of my feelings for her. They despised her because of my love and because she was a Christian.”
Shali asked, “But could she not come to join Islam?”
“She was Coptic, and her father raised her as a strong Christian. She would never be a Muslim, so I had to accept her as a Christian if I wanted to be with her. I could not tell anyone that I had made her my wife. Maria strongly believed in the Prophet Jesus and would not fail her devotion to him. I do not fault her; Jesus was a great prophet. I worshiped him for many years before I saw the reality of the Christian worship for this prophet. But oddly, my Maria despised the Roman Christians, the Greek Christians, and the Egyptian Christians. She believed they had distorted what Jesus taught. She felt they were selfish and could not hold their empires without changing the truth of Jesus. I know this is so. Maria was as committed to me as she was committed to the life of Jesus.”
Shali paused and looked at Clay inquisitively, and then turned back to Sogui. “Please continue.”
“Maria gave me a child, Ibrahim. Not one of the other eleven wives could give me a child — except, of course, Khadijah, who gave me six children. But some of these other wives tried to kill our Ibrahim when he was two years old. He survived, but I told everyone that Ibrahim had died. I had to protect them, so I secretly moved Maria and Ibrahim to a house outside of Medina. I gave her two eunuchs, four soldiers and a servant girl to care for them and protect them. They were loyal, and I told no one where they lived.”
Sogui smiled with a look of satisfaction and happiness. Shali looked at Clay, who scowled in confusion at the laptop. Suddenly the corner of his mouth curled up. He commented quietly to Shali, “That tricky bastard. Historical accounts say that Ibrahim died as an infant and that Mohammad died shortly thereafter. Maria supposedly died shortly after that. Someone probably killed her, and maybe the boy too.”
Shali responded, “Nobody killed them. It was a ruse — to protect them.”
Sogui’s voice dropped to a lower tone as she continued without being prompted. “Maria lived secretly in her house with her son Ibrahim. Al-Amin died a year later. One year after that, Maria secretly took young Ibrahim to Alexandria to be with her family. In Arabia, everyone was told that Maria and Ibrahim had also died.” There was a short pause and then Sogui continued in yet a different tone of voice: “No one could know that Mary and I had a child together. No one could know the last time; no one could know this time. Ibrahim lived long in Alexandria and produced many generations of Coptic Christians in Egypt, even to this day.”