Author: Allan Cooperstein, Ph.D.

Mary Four: The Ice Cave and the Amputation

/ Allan Cooperstein, Ph.D. / Leave a comment

reincarnation

Mary tilted her head forward, and then said matter-of-factly, “Oh. I’m a man.”

I had never encountered anything like this before. What were my next steps? Was I dealing with a fantasy or possible reincarnational being? What practical use would this be? How could I verify this unheard of situation?

I decided to end the session and took every precaution to bring Mary out of hypnosis safely. Afterwards, we spoke for a while. She remembered every aspect of the experience and seemed as puzzled about it as I.

While we talked, at first I didn’t notice that she rubbed her right arm. After a few minutes, it was obvious.

She put on her coat and started to leave, but paused at the door. She added more details, continuing to massage the arm through her coat.

Now, my suspicions were aroused. I asked if her arm bothered her. I thought that, as she was a nurse, she might have strained it that day.

That wasn’t the case. Troubled by this, I asked if she could stay a while longer, asked her to remove her coat and recline again. She agreed.

Because we had explored three time periods that day, I was unsure during which one her arm started to bother her. I helped her enter a deep hypnotic state again, then asked her to allow anything connected with her arm to enter her mind. She became quiet.

Tired, it was after midnight; I closed my eyes and waited for a reply. After a few minutes, I felt a sharp chill, real enough to cause me to open my eyes. I examined the drapes on the window over her, but felt no draft. Then, I asked, “Where are you?”

“The ice cave,” she answered. “”Look down at your arm and tell me what you see,” I said.

Under her lids, her eyes looked down and towards her right arm. Then she answered in the same untroubled tone: “Oh. I don’t have one.”

Surprised, I asked what had happened to the arm. “A bear,” she replied. “A white bear.”

A dark-skinned man wearing furs; an ice cave; a change in gender. All these things led me to suspect that, if there was any truth to this, he was possibly out of the past, perhaps prehistoric. However, my frame of reference may have been wrong. Instead, if this was a true reincarnational memory, it suggested a possible Inuit living closer to the present. Still, there was no way to verify the experience.

My immediate problem was clinical, not research! Somehow, she had brought the injury–fantasy or reincarnation–into the present. What could I do? My education and experience did not provide an answer to this problem. I reasoned that if her body image had changed while she was the man, I could alter it back to the original. I rubbed her arm, suggesting that it was like pliable taffy, capable of stretching to reach her fingertips. After a few minutes, I asked if she felt improvement. She did.

When she became fully aware again, the sensation was gone, vanished. She left with no aftereffects,

What had happened in this seemingly meaningless event? Something quite astonishing. According to the Journal of Trauma (2008), “phantom pain and phantom sensations are often long-term consequences of amputation. Amputees experience phantom sensations and phantom pain within 1 month after amputation, a second peak occurs 12 months after amputation.”

Mary did not report the missing arm during or after her “visit” to that time period; the “ice man” had already adapted to the missing arm. This suggests that, if this was a bona fide reincarnational memory, we detected it beyond one year after the injury when the man (and his body image) had adapted to loss of the limb.

This experience transcended a typical hypnotic session or ordinary reincarnational memory.

Mary Three: Death, Limbo, and the Cave

/ Allan Cooperstein, Ph.D. / Leave a comment

reincarnation

The ancient Roman soldier thrust his short sword through Mary’s abdomen. Her hands held her stomach. “I’m dying,” she said quietly, unemotionally.

My muscles tightened with cold fear. In all the hypnosis books and journals I’d read, not one had mentioned a subject’s hypnotic murder and death. To the eye, Mary looked normal. She breathed slowly and regularly; not unexpectedly, her eyes moved under the lids as if she were looking about, scanning.

Should I try to bring her out of hypnosis? Or should I give her a suggestion to counter her declaration?

Gently, slowly, in a soothing voice I urged her towards ordinary consciousness for a debriefing and to examine her clinically. She opened her eyes and sat up, unshaken. Apparently, I was more fearful than she.

She described her experience in extraordinary detail, too quickly and spontaneously than someone aiming to please the researcher. What happened was real–at least to Mary.

I asked if she recalled anything after her “death ?” She described a limbo state, that she had left the scene of the slaughter, and felt peaceful and no pain. Unlike many sensationalistic reports (e.g., Bridey Murphy), the person she was under hypnosis was no one special, not the Holy Mother or some other significant historical or Biblical figure.

I asked if she wanted to continue and she agreed. This time, slipping into a deep hypnotic state was more rapid and easier. I suggested that she return to the last state…and waited. I was exhausted. After working with patients all day, it was now near midnight. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to rest them. Suddenly, I felt a cold draft. I looked around, particularly at the curtain-covered windows. They were still, unmoving.

Mary’s eye movements were more active. I said, “Where are you?” “In a cave,” she answered. “An ice cave.”

I was stunned. How was it that, in my fatigue and in a closed office, I could feel that sudden chill, as if a cold breeze wafted over me? Was this coincidence…or telepathy?

I wondered what I could ask her without knowing where–or when–she was. I suggested she look down and asked if she wore any garments and, if so, to describe them. Under her lids, her eyes looked down. “Fur. I’m wearing some kind of fur.”

Surprised and uncertain, I searched my thoughts for the next questions. She needed to see herself, to describe her clothing in more detail to help orient me. “Look around the cave,” I said. “Is there anything shiny? Something that could reflect your image?”

She looked about, then said, “There’s a pool of water.” “Good,” I replied. “Look at yourself and tell me what you see.”

She tilted her head forward, then said matter-of-factly, “Oh. I’m a man.” 

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Mary Two: Death by Roman Short Sword

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astral-projection

 

Mary’s hypnotic state deepened with each induction. She was tested at each level to evaluate her depth based on the Stanford Hypnotic Susceptibility Scale. When she reached level 8,Verbal Inhibition, we began in earnest.

She was never given direct suggestions. I was searching for reactions that would occur without clues of any type: I avoided leading her.

Soon, she described being with a man. She didn’t identify him, only that he was rough-looking and threatening. Then, the unexpected happened: Mary grimaced. I asked what was happening; she said he’d stabbed her with a sword. Later, the sword was identified as a Gladius, an ancient Roman short sword. 

short sword

I was now faced with her report of a severe injury. I comforted her and suggested that she allow herself to feel the pain, but as if it were dulled. She showed some easing. Then another shock: She said she was dying. 

Whether an actual reincarnational memory or fantasy, this was a threat to both of us. What could I do with someone who not only believed she was dying, but felt the pain and saw the flowing blood?

As I watched her writhe, my pulse quickened and my heart raced. This was far from what I expected–and so soon after beginning our research.

Something within suggested that I allow her to “die.” It was not mere curiosity. I was responsible for her well-being.  It was more: a form of inner guidance or instinct  that led me to believe it was the correct path.

During the late hours of that Winter’s night, Mary died at the hands of a two-thousand year old man.

Reincarnation…or Imagination? Mary One.

/ Allan Cooperstein, Ph.D. / Leave a comment

Mindscape

Mary was an attractive twenty-something woman trapped in an abusive marriage. We worked together for two years and, thankfully, resolved her issues. She’d left her abusive husband and was living a more contented–and certainly less fearful– life. During treatment, I used hypnosis to help her remember past memories that led directly to the marriage. She was an excellent subject , She was able to recall how, at the wedding, she believed it was wrong and wanted to cancel it. Her parents pressured her to continue. With the memory resurfacing, she knew she had the chance to assert herself. A simple “no” could have saved her pain, grief, and shame.

Sometime later, when I was exploring hypnosis and alleged reincarnation, I asked Mary if she would like to participate. I was delighted when she agreed: she was capable of reaching deep levels of hypnosis.

This is Mary’s story…and how we aimed to explore past lives only to end up unexpectedly in the future. This is not the story of a multiple personality (or DID), but a sane, sound woman–a nurse–who never had the least interest in past lives–until she ran headlong into them.

In the next installment, I’ll begin with her first stories of possible past lives and how she “went too far around the circle, into the future.

For readers interested in a serious study of the subject, read Ian Stevenson’s Twenty Cases Suggestive of Past Lives.