All posts by Linden Morningstar

About Linden Morningstar

Linden Morningstar, author of Gloria Rising, has had extensive experience as a hypnotherapist and licensed marriage and family therapist, which adds depth and realism to his story. He is also the author of The Starlight Prophecy, a science fiction and fantasy novel about alien worlds and super heroines. He writes to explore the mysteries of life and the mysterious connections between the mind, universe, and the mystical. He lives with his cherished wife and four cantankerous, high-maintenance, and lovable cats in southern California.

A Surprise Appearance: Gloria’s “Helper”

hypnotherapy, psychological

 

INSIDE GLORIA’s PSYCHE

Let me begin by being honest about my personal bias. I dislike, no abhor, psychiatric jargon and diagnoses, along with long-winded case histories presented in graduate schools or grand rounds of a mental hospital. They sound solicitous and scientific, and sometimes unintentionally the diagnoses and presentation take the human out of the human being. These diagnoses tend to bias the doctor’s perception and attitude, let alone the students’, towards the person discussed, reducing him or her to an commonplace pathology—no longer a living, breathing person but an ill patient requiring treatment.

Moreover, in Gloria’s case, she had received multiple and different diagnoses by trained mental health professionals who could not agree on her diagnosis. Gloria appeared like a living, walking “Rorschach” ink blot test that had confounded them as they tried, in vain, to project their well meaning interpretations on her. However, the medical model of psychiatry, I know, has value and its place in treating the actual imbalances in brain chemistry; and such was the case with Gloria whose fleeting psychotic episodes were treated effectively with small doses of Zyprexa, while the core of her psychological suffering had yet to be exposed. If her treatment had ended there, she would have only been remembered as a case number or, worse, ended up a psychiatric casualty.

I being a card-carrying pragmatist chose an empirical hypnotic approach—sometimes flying by the seat of my pants—yet always utilizing what Gloria offered me, her traumatic experiences, intelligence, awareness, insights, and yes, her troubling symptoms to help heal her. My only theory was that her symptoms were the spearhead of an underlying corrective emotional experience struggling to surface which terrified Gloria, yet was the key to her recovery and healing. Here the art, skill, and understanding of the complexity of healing would take precedence over diagnoses, medicine, and scientific approaches to behavior change. A colleague chided me about my approach saying, “I had tossed caution to the wind.” But on thoughtful consideration, I could not help but chuckle at his outrageous warning.

By the time Gloria was referred to me, she had been diagnosed as suffering from a rogue’s gallery of major mental illnesses including Schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder,  Atypical Psychosis, and Paranoid Psychosis. It’s a wonder she hadn’t wound up lost on some back ward of a state hospital doing the Thorazine shuffle.

An old chum of mine just happened to be Gloria’s family physician and referred her to me saying Gloria had difficulty falling and staying asleep due to recurrent nightmares. She had reported what sounded like visual and auditory hallucinations about a girl upstairs who she thought was trying to scare and hurt her. He said she was exhibiting other strange behaviors, yelling at the upstairs neighbor and wandering around the neighborhood in the middle of the night, disoriented to her surroundings; and she had recently been found in a confused state collapsed on a pile of snow just outside her apartment. He said she was abusing her sleeping pills and, though a lovely lady, she was a handful and wished me good luck.

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 too fast and becoming terrified and emotionally too fast 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 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.

Dr. Adam Jaxon

The Stargirls Discover a Powerful Psychic Connection to Their Puzzling Destiny

science fiction

Chapter 12; pages 64-69

A green pall materialized from the darkness; and they gawked at each other, thankful their eyesight was restored and awestruck by their bodies’ ghostly green color. They spread out, looking for a way out. Lyn stumbled on a large mandala with curious interlocking patterns on the cavern wall that resembled the symbol in their dream. Its motif had a mystifying cipher text she feared defied analysis. Although she knew cryptography, number and information theory, computational complexity, and quantum computing, what she stared at baffled her.

She decided Occam’s razor was the answer. Entia non sunt multiplicande praeter necessitatem. She thought keep it simple, baby. She boiled her analysis down to combinatorics theory and the fundamental number Pi. She hoped her calculations would expose the meaning and purpose of the mandala.

They gathered around her and gazed at the enigmatic pictograph while Lyn checked and double-checked the alien signs. She felt those signs were a set of laws to the cosmos similar to the image of Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man whose body reflected the universe. That is when the mandala’s secret design hit her. Ali peeked over her shoulder.

Lyn felt her breathing down her neck and said, “Do you see that?”

“See what?” “Hold on a moment.”

She examined several symbols.

Ali grew impatient, shaking Lyn. “See what?” Lyn pointed to several symbols, which meant nothing to Ali.

“These symbols are mathematical constants in the mandala’s design. Whoever put this here wanted us to find it. What you are looking at created by an advanced intelligence.

Mathematically, these five symbols activate the mandala and put the universe at our finger tips. The symbols revealed five star-points within the alien matrix that represented a derivative of the transcendental number pi, the optimal number she had been looking for. Lyn sighed deeply. “Listen up. This may sound incredible, but I think these symbols represent a teleportation access code.”

Mad blinked. “Did I hear right . . . teleportation?”

“Yes, a quantum teleportation code to the stars.”

“You can’t mean ‘Beam me up, Scotty,’ do you?”

“Yes, but not science fiction. I think I broke the code to the star system in our dreams and the extraordinary events that brought us here, but it is a test. Do you remember the Great Sphinx, Abu al-Hôl, Father of Terror, and the Greek Sphinx who strangled all that could not answer its riddle? I am afraid this alien brainteaser is the Alpha and Omega that has been cursing me. You see the laser light that blinded us was a warning to trespassers. Whoever left this message did not want anyone accidentally accessing its secrets. I hate to think what would happen if they failed—or if we fail. Nevertheless, I think I have the cosmic answer to its challenge.” She swallowed hard and mustered her courage. “However, if we fail, I think it will cost us our lives.”

“What are the odds you’re right, a flip of the coin if we set this thing off?” Mad demanded.

Sade interrupted. “My intuition says it’s a go.”

“Sade, with all respect, it’s our lives at stake.” Jill objected.

“Jill, we are on a quest. Come on, do you want to live forever?” Ali chided. Lyn laughed. “Let me be the devil’s advocate. I figure a 90 percent chance it will work. You all know something beyond Earth is calling us. Jill, didn’t you say it was our destiny, back in Malibu?”

“Yes.” Ali declared, “It’s our way of putting the star in Stargirls.”

“Who can fight that?” Mad agreed.

“Looks like the Alpha brats rule.” Jill capitulated.

Life is difficult at best, Lyn thought. The choice was to run or bravely leap into the unknown. She understood their choice would forever define them and their fate. “Okay, is it a go?” Lyn asked. Without thinking, they embraced her shouting, “One for all and all for one! We are the Stargirls forever!” Lyn forced a smile, “Okay, the alien mechanism means life or death, depending on how we activate it. Kind of a 50s nuclear missile, fail-safe system where two controllers turned two keys to bring their Intercontinental Ballistic Missile to life; but that’s where the analogy ends.” She paused. “The point being, hidden within the mandala’s encrypted symbols are five star-points. Mathematically, when they come together they form a perfect geometric star that should release the mandala’s energy—but there is a catch. Each point is a trigger, and we must press them together in concert. Pressed out of sequence, we will never know what happened. Whoever created this technology designed it to self-destruct if it fell into the wrong hands. “Now, place your fingers on your star-point, and when I say ‘Ready?’ you shout ‘Ready!’ back to me. Then, when I give the command, press your star symbol—any questions?”

Jill warily said, “Wait! Let’s not screw up. What command?” Lyn blushed. “Oops. Star power. She then double-checked their positions and took her own. “Ready?” They shouted, “Ready.” The Stargirls were following her hollow-eyed, trusting, and hopeful. Without hesitation, she gave the command, “Star power.” Directly, they pressed their star-points and stepped back. In that gut-wrenching moment, the Stargirls mesmerized as the mandala blazed and the cavern wall flickered, and then rippled in kaleidoscopic light. Suddenly, the mandala imploded and the wall vanished.

* * *

   The Stargirls lounged on rainbow beach towels while Malibu’s summer sun baked the sand.

Ali said, “Boy, its hot and sticky.”

Lyn added, “Pass me the sunscreen—” while Jill and Sade sipped tart lemonade, puckering their lips. Jill commented, “Hmm, southern California, land of milk and honey—yet today it’s a tropical paradise.”

Sade replied, “Life’s good.”

Ali asked, “Why do you think we picked these bright rainbow towels?” Mad chortled, “Simple—to attract attention. Men like alluring, sexy colors.” Lyn tittered and smiled. “I think they have a deeper meaning than a mating ritual.” Ali sniggered. “Kind of reminds me of when our hormones erupted and our parents freaked out. Jill howled. “Yeah, that was a crazy time.”

“Remember how Mad got caught sneaking out to see her boyfriend?” Sade taunted.

Mad scowled, “You stinker …” and rolled over, “Watch out, I’ll feed you to the sharks.” The rhythmic sound of the shore break, chatter of sea gulls, and sun’s heat lulled Mad into a sleepy state. The sun- struck surfers turned waves into thrill rides; and dogs flew like Olympian gods catching Frisbees and dove in waves like dolphins fetching tennis balls. Defying leash laws intended to keep them from being Olympian gods or dolphins.

“What a wonderland—it makes my heart sing.” Ali mused.

Sade said, “Why don’t we join the surfers?” “Good idea.” They trotted toward the water, feet on fire, singing a hilarious chorus of; “Ooh . . . ouch . . . ouch . . . ooh . . . ah . . . ouch—“ until they dove into the water. The others sat, crowing at the comical sight.

Jill said, “I wish I had a camera.” “This is the kind of day we work hard for.” Lyn said. Mad’s eye popped open. “Let’s join the fools and not waste it.” Jill stretched and stood up. “Okay, last one in is a rotten egg.” She raced over the fire pit and dove in the shore break. Time seemed lost as they bodysurfed and built sandcastles and families came and went like the tide. Seagulls circled above, as others strutted on beach-stealing snacks. One big white gull pecked at a bag of chips until it gave up its salty treasure. An afternoon breeze turned the heat down.

Mad shivered and said, “We’d better rescue our rainbows or the tide will claim them.” They reluctantly left their ocean playground and picked up their towels to dry off. Lyn, drying her hair, heard the sharp howl of dogs and thought it odd. “What do you think is stirring them up?”

Mad replied, “I don’t know, but look,” pointing to the sky teeming with brown pelicans and western gulls heading south. Sade said, “Must be thousands; it’s unusual.” Their masses blocked the sun and cast crablike shadows around them. No sooner had the exodus passed than another wave of birds flew low and hard going south. Their agitated squawking startled them.

Lyn said, “What’s going on?”

Ali shouted, “What in God’s name!” pointing to the ocean horizon where a colossal object hovered.

Lyn screeched, “Jill, toss me your phone. I want to call a friend at NORAD,” but before she could, a terrific boom shook the beach. Involuntarily, she turned toward the deafening sound, stunned by what she saw. The object, now clearly in view, moved closer to the shoreline. It hovered thousands of feet above them, rotating counterclockwise on its axis. Awed, she tilted her head back. Her jaw dropped, and she gaped at the translucent object—a red, ethereal, whirling entity in the white-blue sky, emitting fantastic bursts of energy. A mushroom cloud materialized over the object, forming a massive anvil thunder dome. The thing she thought, at a loss for words, gyrated faster and faster, glowing bright reddish-orange. Pulses of energy surged into the sky and sizzling and cracking lightning struck the ground, causing her hair to stand on end and spark. The Pacific Coast Highway’s sandstone cliffs moved from the force of the sonic boom, causing huge landslides that buried everything.

Lyn screamed, “Mad, what’s going on?”

“All I know is that super cell looks deadly,” she replied, as a violent gust of wind bent them over. The sky turned to night as the object’s red glow created a shaft of light that pierced the ocean, causing it to boil. Three bluish-white tornados appeared curling and twisting like poisonous snakes, heading for the beach.

Mad let out a shriek, “Get out of here.”

Lyn yelled, “Run for the cottage.”

Mad screamed, “No, take the jeep; we’ll escape south like the birds.” Lyn fumbled and dropped the keys. She grabbed them and slid into the driver’s seat. Jill rode shotgun, and the rest squeezed into the back. Torrential rain beat down as Lyn barreled off the driveway, driving like a maniac. She turned south along the shoreline. Mad glanced back and gasped. The sky turned greenish black as a massive wedge tornado touched down, annihilating everything. Cars, people, and million-dollar homes hurtled through the air as a rescue copter crashed.

“Faster, faster or we’re dead!” Mad shrieked. Lyn squinted through blinding rain, as baseball-size hail crashed down. They screamed until their voices gave out, “Go . . . go . . . go.” The jeep hit a rut that blew a front tire, ripping the wheel from her hands, causing the jeep to veer and flip over. Shaken, they helped each other out of the jeep.

Jill glowered at the flat tire and said, “Let’s make a run for it.” Mad looked back. “It’s too late.” They hugged goodbye and turned to face their fate. Holding hands, heads high, they courageously faced the wedge of Black Death that swept them away—

* * *

   Lyn was oddly aware; she was peering into a Star Chamber with gleaming transparent walls that reflected the past, present, and future. Gradually, she realized she was looking into a space-time crystal ball, a cosmic ball she had once gazed into as a small child. She realized they had left their bodies in the mandala’s cavern and had not even noticed. She felt the others but could not see them. She heard Jill’s pleading voice call out, “Are we dead or alive?”

Lyn tried to respond but could not find her own voice. Mesmerized by the shift in space-time, she realized their nightmare of annihilation was a subconscious projection, a projection of their deepest fears when they pressed the star symbols, not knowing whether they would live or die. Regardless of its reality, she was thankful they survived the killer alien tornado.

Mad, in exasperation, cried out to the unseen force, “Why did you summon us? There must be a reason. Tell us.” She heard a dreamlike voice. “You are Stargirls.” The voice paused, letting the fog and confusion of their nightmare to lift.

Lyn found her voice, “But why us?” “You are the chosen ones by prophecy; you have proven your worthiness. A time warp brought you here. The one you opened was no accident. It was left a hundred thousand years ago just for you. Your Star training as children has prepared you well. You are ready for the next stage in your evolution.” Her disquieting words shifted reality, creating an energy-womb within them, a powerful psychic connection to their puzzling destiny.

Garlig derisively said, “The ancient prophecy you thought was your destiny is dead. You are not my Master Aagaatar’s worst nightmare. I am yours.”

fantasy, science fiction

Chapter 15 (excerpt)

TRAVELING FASTER than the speed of light, the gigantic saucer magnetically pulsed into a different dimension. The Stargirls beamed through space, unaware someone called Aagaatar, “The Great Evil,” ruled the better part of the Vanngeez galaxy, while a horrifying fiend named Garlig was in command of the Zaagon saucer imprisoning them. Garlig was the Aagaa Zaagon’s Master Torturer—a monster’s monster.

The Stargirls’ earthly innocence was no match for Aagaatar’s vile powers that conspired to control the Stargirl’s lives and destiny. Furthermore, Aagaatar was the evil incarnate that conjured unthinkable horrors to dominate the universe and destroy all that was good. The Aagaa Zaagon Empire was a murderous civilization that interbred with elite members of conquered enemies to strengthen its racial supremacy. Aagaa, named for the evil god Aagaatar was an unholy word uttered in the throes of sex, heat of battle, or curse. It was a paranoid race feared and hated for its perverse genius and legendary cruelty. Their way of life founded on depravity and lust for killing. Random murder condoned, and slaughtering the enemy given the highest reward. Homicide and mass murder was as necessary to the Aagaa as the air they breathed. The Aagaa Death ethos believed superior for domination of the universe.

Black holes were the embodiment of Aagaa philosophy of Thanatos, and they symbolized their destructive superiority that swallowed galaxies, suns, planets, and civilizations. The Aagaa’s invention of Zano warfare marked a new epoch in their conquest of the Vaangeez galaxy. Advanced civilizations fought and fled the Aagaa’s bloodthirsty invasions to survive. The Star people had led the last Star rebellion, the Aagaa Zaagon Empire’s greatest enemy—but now encircled they faced extermination. Abysmally, the military union between the Star people, Etuu, Zataba, Noling, and Trions collapsed, crushed by Garlig’s War of Terror. Regardless, the Star people chose to fight to the death rather than surrender to genocide.

Genocide was on the mind in control of the Stargirls. Their captor craved nothing more than the destruction of all enlightened beings; he viewed them as subversive threats. Advanced civilizations had felt the cleansing wrath of the Aagaa Zaagon Empire, what the Evil Master proclaimed the “Final Solution,” had ingeniously trapped the Star people in the Vaangeez galaxy and laid siege to their defensive outposts, softening them up for the final assault. Now, he wondered why he felt such loathing for the aliens. He ordered them isolated and requested one be brought to him for interrogation. He felt her youth, a weak link to take advantage of—yet, oddly, feared her the most. “Aagaa,” he swore, “Aagaa, Aagaa.” He thought that when the Master finished using them, he would have his way. The sadistic thought made his misshapen mouth spew out black drool. “Aagaa, Aagaa,” he howled. The craving to maim and kill grew uncontrollable as his powerful tentacles engorged with blood flailed the air. Conflicting passions arose— to touch their flesh—that checked his homicidal impulse, driving him to command his Troag guards to bring them all, despite his inspired plan to question the one. He wanted to possess them. He wanted to get up close to touch and smell them, smell their organic juices that gave them life. Garlig let out an ugly laugh; the exotic life forms presaged, his Master’s worst nightmare now stood powerless before him. The Star people’s assassins, sent to save them, would stand in judgment while he probed their vulnerability.

He was the master artist of terror. Inspired by a macabre soul, he covered the canvas of life with mayhem and destruction. Some of his subjects required short rapid strokes to break them, while others long brush strokes of agony to render them a work of genius. Those who failed his artistic vision savagely killed. Anticipation, terror’s handmaid, he manipulated expertly. Mind crippling tools, he plied imaginatively. He used love to create unbearable torture, forcing those he could not break or drive insane to witness loved ones butchered. The whispered threat the aliens represented only fueled the horrors his mind created for them. His blind hatred was a mix of rage and sexual tension. He detested anything that challenged his power. Anything getting in his way was damned. Garlig roared when informed they soon would stand before his reproachful gaze. He sat on the right-hand side of Aagaatar, the highest Aagaa honor for his unrivaled treachery, shocking violence, and daring conquests.

In the meantime, the monstrous beasts prodded the Stargirls toward the command center with avenging blows to their bodies. The beasts, traumatized by Garlig’s torture, had turned their rage on the Stargirls. Jill cried out in pain, “God help them if they’ve harmed Lyn.” They had abandoned close combat, choosing to yield as part of their escape plan. They agreed to act helpless so the enemy would underestimate them, given their defeat by the steely-eyed spiders. They held wing chun, short power, and chow gar, shock power, in reserve. The Stargirls gasped at the sight of Lyn cringing on the floor, her head bowed, holding her arm; feeling relief, they bolted to her; but huge, hairy hands grasped fistfuls of hair, yanking their heads back with neck breaking force, throwing them to the ground. Knees dug sharp into their backs, pinning them to the floor like insects on a spreading board. Mad shrieked angrily, “Get off, mutants.” Her shrill shout created confusion in their minds, fearing attack; but when she lay still, they eased the numbing pressure off her back.

They glanced at their leader for guidance. Nogaa’s piercing red eyes scowled at his warriors, then at the source of his deplorable defeat. His huge brow furrowed, deep scars lining his brooding face, telling of forgotten battles he had buried. Nevertheless, his commanding presence was an immediate antidote for his warriors’ fears. His complexion grew dark; his thoughts searched for an answer to the aliens’ aggression. He knew all their lives depended on him delivering them respectfully to his master. Any sign of alien rebellion would send Garlig into a murderous rage that would rain down on all of them. He hastily made a command decision and kneeled down to the alien nearest him. Nogaa grasped the alien’s chin and tilted her drawn face toward him. He gazed into her insolent eyes and grinned while his eyes begged her for understanding. He patted Mad on the head and grimly went to the next alien and repeated his desperate overture. Once he finished soothing them, he bellowed, “Awago, awa daa diwee ki!” The aliens lifted to their feet, the beasts positioned on each side securing them in arm locks. They staggered forward, feeling mutual misgivings, while the Stargirls considered whether they had misjudged their ruthless captors. Maybe they had more in common with the beasts than met the eye. Maybe they were all prisoners. After all, the massive beast had shown kindness despite their vigorous defense against him. Then again, the beasts’ violence left them guarded.

Garlig’s voice thundered as they entered; the beasts thrust their heads to the floor, making them bow to their master. His deafening laugh and wicked expression smeared on a terrifying face that gripped them. They were ill prepared for what stood before them. Lyn felt repulsion at the incredible sight, a vision of pure horror. Garlig was Herculean in stature with a crude, warped face and one large glaring eye. His phenomenal body glistened with unnatural beauty; two fearsome tentacles coiled from his upper back, while two massive humanoid arms formed a chilling demonic look. The horrifying tentacles undulated threateningly as razor-sharp teeth protruded from huge suckers. Without warning, the tentacles surged toward them, causing them to step back with fists raised in defense. Jill, sensing the inhuman thing played with them, barked, “Lower your guard.” Her swift command saved them from vicious attack. She thought,

Submission . . . the Way of Sun Tzu . . . the backdoor to valor, given what they faced. Jill commanded, “Kneel,” and they meekly kneeled and prostrated themselves in false worship, thus charming the monster’s ego. Garlig choked back black bile, letting out a contemptible laugh that appeased his rage. He gloated at his enemies lying face down before him. He felt exhilaration—he, the elixir of death—as his powerful tentacles reached down and coarsely caressed their recoiling bodies, making them shudder. He withdrew his groping tentacles and gave a signal to the beasts to lift them to their feet. He had come close to disobeying Aagaatar’s strict orders to deliver the aliens unharmed to him. Their deaths would have meant his own.

His rage returned. His homicidal fantasies displaced onto the Troag leader. He lashed out, “Nogaa, you coward, you let these frail aliens defeat your guards.” However, what Garlig feared more was the hex the aliens seemed to cast on him. Never had any life form controlled his emotions and desires as they had, bewitching him with their alien beauty, nearly ruining his plans. Maybe he took them too lightly, he thought as his lip curled—torture-time will tell. He relished toying with his new prey as he outlined how he would use them for his conquest of the Vaangeez galaxy. Although he was usurping the Master’s authority, they were unaware of his treachery. Garlig derisively said, “The ancient prophecy you thought was your destiny is dead. You are not my Master Aagaatar’s worst nightmare. I am yours.” His evil stare bore through them. Infuriated, he shrieked, “Bear witness to your master’s power.” His mighty tentacles lashed out causing piercing thunderclaps, making them drop to their knees and clutch their ears to stop the excruciating ringing. He enjoyed their torment, waiting for them to look up. When they did, he pointed his fearsome tentacle at a strange device. The tentacle swayed hypnotically; suction cups rhythmically opened and closed, baring deadly teeth. The Stargirls mesmerized by the horrifying bizarre spectacle. He gave a command and a burst of energy from the curious device severed the hideous tentacle. Jill felt a glimmer of hope but before the tentacle hit the floor, an incredible light emanated from the stump and instantly regenerated the tentacle before her bewildered eyes. He haughtily swung the tentacle in the air with a horrendous laugh of victory. Ali blinked her eyes, wondering if what she saw was an illusion, or real. Sade felt revulsion. Mad whispered, “Oh, no.” All at once, Garlig’s eye opened wide; his bullwhip tentacles wrapped around Nogaa’s two brothers who screeched in anguish as grotesque teeth tore at their flesh, tentacles whipping them high above Garlig’s head.

He laughed, amused by their screams, and flung the youngest brother into a glowing chamber. He gave a ruthless command while his audience of hairy beasts, creepy-crawly things, and Stargirls watched—in fear, indifference, and stark horror.

​

Fear and Ignorance are but man-made Limitations: The Guardian

hypnotherapy, psychological, spirit guide, supernatural

“Hypnosis’ is a means to reach the unconscious mind after a state of relaxation by self-induction, but with the help of the hypnotist. When used wisely, this can allow problems or blocks to be released—or clarified. But be sure you like each other’s vibrations, and a bond of trust must exist between the two involved. I am sure you know all this—just to remind you why you can make great progress with Gloria. Some day you will understand this a lot better.

People are learning that fear and ignorance are but man-made limitations. It behooves all to improve psychic abilities. Shun discouragement. In important work there are backwards steps as well as progress.

Gloria has attracted confused and weakened souls all her life, like bees to pollen; and these souls gathered strength and insight because of her understanding. I was one of those souls; all that I am, I owe to her.

Remember, share the interests. You are providing the tools of growth that will mean the difference of a role of a normal person and that of a being who will be capable of soaring wondrous heights.”

The Guardian

Startling Automatic Letter from “something” that calls itself the Guardian

hypnotherapy, spirit guide, spiritual, supernatural

AUTOMATIC LETTER 119

FROM THE GUARDIAN

Sunday night

Hello,

This is not Gloria’s Helper. I am Gloria’s Guardian. You asked to talk to me. It made my day! I had just come to you on my mind’s checklist; however, I have indirectly visited you before in Gloria’s dreams as an angel or a tall thin man. Something else. Understand, your work is valuable. The person doing the work is even more valuable, you. Remember the solution for long-term survival is to take it one step at a time. You’re wondering if the strain is getting to Gloria. Is she beginning to show signs of mental imbalance? No! I do not think so. Gloria has been given one rare special gift for her own use only. It is only when she cannot feel she is coping, or when she is unable to pray for herself, that she uses this gift to get help. At first she didn’t understand the value of this gift, and she used it in a commonplace way—only to wish she hadn’t. Now she is most careful in using it. It is because she asked for help that she was led to you—yes, led to you. Otherwise, she would not be here. Be not afraid! Both you and Gloria will accomplish your mission from learning together, and special blessings will be yours. As long as you can hang on, I’m hanging in there with you. Gloria is a whole book on the best traditions of survival. So are you! Why? Because two people created by God are solid proof (in your office room) that terror and the need to survive do not have to undo every virtue, such as compassion, pity, decency, loyalty and, all important, the virtue of love. Do not try to understand me—just understand that I’m briefing you to help you in this task you’ve taken on. What you are actually doing is debriefing, like combat soldiers do after a bloody battle. Remember? A hole in the ground can hardly be considered a normal human habitat. A fighter pilot who has bailed out over an island swarming with enemy troops—and lived there for several days before being rescued—will seem different to someone sleeping comfortably at home in a soft bed. In this relation, you and the person I’m talking about have a great deal in common—you are survivors. More important, you are warmhearted and human. Yes, both of you! Something to brighten your day! Chances are, today will bring great progress. Right now, it is four-twenty. How time flies when you’re having a ball. At best, Gloria’s sleep would have been fitful. At three o’clock this morning Gloria’s friend Mason died. One thing here—Gloria has made a habit of surviving the death of people she cares for by using her principle about death. Mention “the mass suicide from the reading of the Dead Sea Zealots on the eve of capture by the Romans.” It will make an impression to remind Gloria of the principle behind the survival instinct that carried her so far. The principle is, “death should not be entered like some snug harbor. Death—unless God sends for someone—should be a loud, angry refusal to surrender.” This is important to Gloria, but she does not actually know it—the principle. You mention Mason if she doesn’t; but this man died and she begins to feel a lot more today.I say, “Mason died.” I am realistic. For Gloria to say, “Mason died” means she is not feeling again. No one will make her feel sorrow, because no one knows except me and Gloria that Mason, the “bother” (not literally), she loved the most. What I tell you here must remain between us and Gloria. I am Gloria’s Guardian, and I must do what is best for her regardless of how she would look at it. I will help you also to help Gloria in other ways. I do not speak in paragraphs. I will try to talk in your language. Do not try to understand this—someday you will. Just have the faith and keep cool. “Gloria’s objective at this point is to feel with her heart,” a course of survival that will last and make history. Remember! Gloria has an important mission, and she will have all the courage needed to accomplish this mission. In this manner, I am not like Gloria’s Helper who lives mostly in the present. I can see many other things, but I cannot be used for silly things or unless called.You, Gloria and Gloria’s Helper have gone through enough to make a confirmed pessimist out of Pollyanna. Remember! The thing to fear is lack of knowledge. Ask! It will be no big problem—the Guardian will help. You are very close to a quantum leap forward and to Gloria’s goal of becoming a whole being. Suggestions to start with are: Mason’s death; Speaking in Tongues; Patti; Margaret; and Susan. Use your own talent; you will know best as you go along. Call on me first, in your sessions with Gloria, if you wish—the Guardian. Remember! Love conquers all! This is reality—love! Don’t forget the grey house. Good luck!

The Guardian

 NOTE:

The Guardian’s sudden and profound presence, and instant omniscient involvement in Gloria’s therapy, was mystifying and, yes, frightening to say the least; yet in all reality it turned what might have been weeks, if not months, of hard therapeutic work breaking through Gloria’s psychic numbing, hopelessness, and despair into an exciting get-acquainted session between us. As a result, Gloria’s faith, hope, and optimism were unaccountably reborn while my solid grip on what I thought was reality suddenly shifted towards a greater and unknown reality.

Could I possibly be in contact with an otherworldly spirit? The unfathomable question sent shivers up and down my spine. Was I talking to a ghost or spiritual being who claimed only to be LOVE and Gloria’s deceased husband? What did that mean? I tried to do a reality check but came up with no answers. I was sailing into supernatural and uncharted territory without a sensible compass or a map. And as I thoughtfully stepped into this strange spiritual world, I wondered where it would take me.

Adam Jaxon

A Profound array of the Guardian’s Reflections on Healing Gloria

supernatural

When she remembers everything, then she will be able to reach her potential. They will come to a certain point and have to make up their mind, either experiences are going to be of help or hindrance.

I guess you realize by now her mind was raped. The work is tedious but the unconscious needs to remember details to cleanse the mind. It’s a wonder both the conscious and unconscious haven’t been in a state hospital.

There will be knowledge made known that will be of interest to you and that will add to your love of life. The person you are helping will have important knowledge for you as well. I wish you an uplifted feeling to help you along today—to follow your talent. Do not get discouraged. Good contact is being made; so is increased awareness. Bear in mind, I pose no threat to you. I’m detached from rivalry or anything of that sort.

Mere consciousness is not awareness. Consciousness is of the physical brain while awareness is of the mind—this is part of the soul. Thinking and working out problems has to do with consciousness. Inner knowing—telling me that I am and I, too, exist—this awareness is the link to God, the Creator.

Letters are good too, creating a lot of tension while at same time, bringing the whole thing to a head.

What you sense in your heart and feel in your conscience must be the greatest part of your training. You must have confidence of your experience. If people only were not so afraid, such abundant unconscious resources could be put to use for progress. People are still groping in the ‘Dark Ages’ where limited conscious beliefs trap them in a microscopic box of awareness—unaware of what lies beyond, what is possible.

There will be times when you want to just walk away from it and forget the whole business. Don’t! Stick with it. When you look back on it, you will be amazed at the progress made. I will guide your efforts and Gloria’s efforts.

My role is to bring you knowledge so you have the assurance and confidence you need for the work ahead of you to help Gloria reach her full potential as a human being. My job is enjoyable, a work of love and pleasure. To see two human beings become as greatly as they can be is certainly not a duty. I stand for faith, hope, charity, and love—the good things in life. You could call me a good influence. I create love and blessings.

Gloria and Gloria’s Helper are to help themselves, first of all. If they did not want to help themselves, I couldn’t help at all. What they or you get confused about, or threatens you or them, then I am able to step in by feelings of love, nature and blessings to enable you back to an optimistic nature. Instead of your being pessimistic, I help you see the truth, the reality of things, not pessimism. I have to leave you in comfort and encouraged—couldn’t leave you depressed and discouraged, then I would fail. You see the whole thing has been an optimistic act. So what we have done is an act of procreation and love. We all stuck together so Gloria didn’t commit suicide. There was always someone to pick us up. That’s how we work together as ONE.

Understand my work is important; but if the person I am sent to help refuses to acknowledge me, or to help themselves, I eventually withdraw. However, I do not intrude nor pose a threat. I only come when a person is open for help. For example, I have another mission I am working on—a desperate man who called out for help. Regrettably, he’s a stubborn old alcoholic who has thrown his good life away and now resists my guidance, love, and blessings. My power to help is limited by what a human being is willing to give me. I am afraid in this case I might fail. A pity.

The Starlight Prophecy: Aagaatar’s treachery

fantasy, science fiction

Chapter 19 (pgs.119-120)

LYN LAY NAKED curled in a fetal position, a bag of skin and bones devoid of consciousness. She was bereft of humanity, comatose-like, drifting in and out of a deep state of unconsciousness, and desperately trying to awaken and remember who or what she was. Alone, she probed a nebulous madness that stripped her of self. She fought a devastating drug-induced coma and amnesia when she abruptly roused.

“What’s happening?

“Where am I?

“Who am I?”

She struggled to find a way back to herself and life. Panic engulfed

her. I lost control—

Control of what? What was it?

A condition of chaotic nonexistence ensnared her. A psychic void of

pitch-blackness—suffocating eternal blackness—only the dead know.

Then emotionally charged memories swirled into her perception—

. . . A mommy breastfeeding a baby . . . a child swinging across the

blue sky on a backyard swing . . . two older sisters laughing and singing,

“Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies. Ashes, ashes we all fall

down!” . . . the fallen consumed by the Black Plague . . .

. . . First love at 16 lost to a best friend . . . a young girl’s heart

broken . . . a boyfriend singing, “Who’s your daddy, who’s your daddy?”

knowing how much she loves her Daddy . . .

. . . a valedictorian speaks out for world peace . . . sultry jade eyes,

brimming with life; closed by merciless cancer . . . secret dreams crushed .

. . a young woman seeks adventure . . . terror . . . terror . . . terror . . .

Controlling images and emotions seized her.

What did it all mean?

What did she lose control of?

What was it?

It struck her, like the sickening bounce of a suicide off concrete. “My mind, my mind!” she screamed. “Oh my God, I’ve lost my mind.” Lyn cried like a baby. She could not remember her name as the emptiness she tried to climb out of closed in around her, leaving her lost in Aagaatar’s house of horrors.

She wrestled to hold onto the wreckage of her mind when blurred faces appeared. She saw an intriguing mouth without a face come closer; it said, “We are Stargirls.” Confused and weak, she mumbled, “S-S-Star—“ and collapsed, while the Stargirls sat like ghosts nearby, imprisoned in their own hell—oblivious to her plight and Aagaatar’s treachery.

 

Gloria Rising: Law of Nature revealed by the Guardian

spirit guide, supernatural

“When you grow to full potential, you can see every person, race as a person. You have enough compassion, enough grasp of good and bad; at the core you can reach the good in even the worst person—more you give to others, more you get, the Law of Nature.”

-Guardian

The Stargirls meet Lord God Aagaatar

fantasy, science fiction

Jill mutely stood in the background transfixed by the size and appearance of Aagaatar, who appeared ten feet tall. He was a eunuch, with two powerful arms—one human, the other a horrendous looking black claw. His hulking, muscular body was a brilliant green with bold black streaks. A misshapen predator, she thought, perhaps a product of genetics gone amiss.

Red antennae that bristled at their torment crowned his massive head. His face was bizarrely humanoid, except for his large insect eyes. Protruding from his massive chest were teeth sharp ripsaw that viciously snapped. Jill cringed at the whirring sound . . . imagining it ripping and tearing flesh . . . made to tear a body apart while his soulless black eyes stared through her. A hellish adversary she shuddered involuntarily.

Aagaatar’s acidic voice startled her. “You are my servants sent to fulfill my Final Solution.” He raised his black claw and the Golden Star materialized. “The power of the Universe—naively delivered to me by misguided puppets. When I’m through with you, you will regret you were ever born—” But before he finished, a deadhead collided with Lyn. She saw blood oozing through her sleeve.

“Come, children of Aagaatar, let me show you the fruit of your malignant planet.” He waved his black claw and blinding light descended around them; they vanished. Lyn lost sight of the others while the light swirled around her. Her mind stretched like a rubber band until she felt it would snap—she lost consciousness.

.

 

Dr. Adam Jaxon introduces the mysterious Guardian

spirit guide, supernatural

 

“… Yet, I never imagined ghosts in my house, let alone a wise ethereal presence talking to me as if we were old friends, until I met Gloria. And now that confounding reality was sitting in front of me. Before you experience Gloria rising from dark evil places, I wish to immerse you in the eerie world of the Guardian and the unbelievable impact the Guardian had on me and Gloria’s therapy. Only then will you experience, understand and appreciate the greatness of her ascent.

Gloria took to hypnosis like a zealous skydiver jumping off Mount Everest from dizzying heights into an abyss. In this respect, she was fearless. She loved my arm levitation induction which resembled a magician’s sleight of hand, except it was real magic that took Gloria time traveling into her sordid past and on higher astral voyages.

The hypnotic arm levitation was well suited for Gloria’s need to experience catalepsy and deep trance where Gloria’s Helper and I could do our work, and it was necessary to reach the Guardian’s higher vibration of energy and reality.

In the beginning, I would hold her right wrist very, very gently and lift slightly almost imperceptibly with just the slight suggestion the arm was levitating. I enhanced the effect by the slight movement of the arm this way or that until her arm levitated by itself. Invariably, this led to a deep trance and communication with Gloria’s Helper.

In the process I would later discover if I simply lifted her arm higher, this triggered my contact with the Guardian. The Guardian from the start would speak through Gloria’s voice without the theatrics of a split personality. It was Gloria’s voice but not Gloria. Through the course of her therapy the Guardian would only appear if called on—never intrusive, only offering support, encouragement, and omniscient insight and understanding into Gloria’s emotional disturbance. In case you have forgotten, I must remind you that the Guardian was Gloria’s deceased husband, Greyson, a shocking fact that even I had a hard time wrapping my mind around.

Nevertheless, I am pleased to present the channeled messages from the Guardian that encompass and enlighten Gloria’s therapy. The Guardian’s messages were fascinating, thought provoking and decisive to the success of Gloria’s therapy. Some messages towards the end were answers to my questions about the Guardian’s nature and being—bold and blunt questions that challenged his reality and who he claimed to be. I probed whether the Guardian was a dissociated or split personality of Gloria’s personality, questions my lifetime of scientific training and rational mind forced me ask. Nonetheless, I felt self-conscious as if I were questioning the Wizard of Oz hiding behind a curtain.

The Guardian’s responses were always lighthearted, humorous, unoffending, and illuminating as you will see. The Guardian’s words and profound messages often made my mind whirl with astonishment and wonder. In the beginning the Guardian’s messages were terse until the Guardian could take full control of Gloria’s body and then the messages became grander as long as Gloria’s energy could sustain them.”

Dr. Adam Jaxon

Here are some select quotes from the Guardian about its spiritual mission.

“If you do not believe in Gloria—she’s sensitive—it would do her harm.”

“Something you have to know—Gloria is developing a great respect for what you are teaching her. I am determined to take care of her. She must rely on it—an outlook she can get from the reassurance that will flow through her from within.”

“A swift dart of memory and she will recall how she has again closed herself against pain. Gloria’s Helper must be made to peer into a time of loss without anguish. It has to come from this source, Gloria’s Helper, to be of any help – the dates—November 26 and November 27. I will help.”

“No cause for alarm! My work is not your work. Gloria’s progress is based on the therapy of your concern, devotion, and skill. I merely try to help.”

“Must remind you that Gloria and Gloria’s Helper have acquired more in her life span than many of us ever do. Something sustained her—a philosophy, a way of life much simpler than any we might practice here; and because it is and was so simple, it may be that it was more advanced—it got her through horrors most do not live through.”

“Gloria’s Helper is an inner source who leads her to beautiful thoughts and peaceful places, while I seem to have a source and give her an intuition that tells her whatever she needs to know.”