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Medical Training.

Ten Years Since The Revolution at Amazon.

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to start writing the book which naturally was to accompany my investigation, and at the time, if I'm honest, I had not really given it that much thought. I confessed, I hadn't even considered it yet. Cindy told me to take a week out, slow down, and just sit in front of the typewriter for a few days, rather than punish myself with a constant search for whatever lurked out there.

She told me, while wearing her psychiatrist's hat, that if I did not take a few days out, then I would be in danger of burning myself out altogether. She advised me, quite strongly, that it was this type of behaviour that led to nervous break­downs, and aware of her professionalism, I took her advice. For the next four days I sat quietly at home, a block of paper before me, and my mind nervously attempting to make sense of a very un-sensible situation; yet always at that back of my mind, the thought, John and Doris still had to be assessed.

Did they eventually go to see Cindy?

They most certainly did. I met John in London a week later and we travelled together to Cindy's surgery. I explained to him along the way, more out of polite conversation than anything else, that I had made a start on the book.

He seemed somewhat vacant, almost uninterested as he stared from a taxi window, out across the madness of London's chaotic streets. Every so often he would mumble: "I shouldn't be doing this!" And I guessed, he meant, as he was a doctor himself, he should not be undertaking this kind of therapy.

John told me, to GPs, hypnotherapy was still seen as a taboo subject. He termed it 'Quackery', as our taxi drew to a halt, its brakes squealing, outside Cindy's surgery. John said, as he stepped from the vehicle, with big envious eyes, he would'nt mind a practice round this way.

I thought he would need a father as rich as Cindy's before he got one; either that or win the lottery. Cindy's father was a merchant banker and property developer in the city, and owned half of this part of London. We entered through gold etched, smoke glass doors and crossed a foyer on thick black carpets, reported to reception and waited for the all clear.

When it came, we walked gemini over to the stairs and climbed steadily up a curved, slatted wooden staircase towards Cindy's office. John still protested his uncertainty about the whole situation, and for a doctor, he seemed very nervous of entering another doctor's office. Cindy greeted us at the doorway, and I think that gesture ensured John had no option but to continue.

We entered, and had an initial chat. Cindy questioned him on his conscious knowledge of events, as he recalled them. John confessed no more to her, than he had to me in the past, only now his state seemed more agitated. He sat before Cindy's oversized desk, ringing his hands tightly and explaining how this craft had appeared overhead as he journeyed to examine a patient, and all the time, much to my annoyance, he kept apologising.

Twenty minutes had lapsed before Cindy led him to the couch, and relaxed him. John kept telling her this type of thing probably wouldn't work on him because of his profession, and medical training. Cindy told him to relax, and they would try nonetheless. Within seconds John was out like a light.

I think it might have had something to do with his conditions; he was nervous to the point of exhaustion, and had admitted his state was starting to effect his work. Cindy carefully guided him back to his childhood, then brought him forwards to a point in time I asked for; that age of adolescence and his school days in Kent. I had already worked out, if we were about to breech the barrier between John's conscious and subconscious state, that was the era we needed to explore.

Cindy instructed John to visualise his school: "It's night time, John, you're asleep," she said, her voice coercing: "Can you picture it, John?"

I sat patiently watching, my elbows on my knees, my face cradled in my hands, as John responded with a single muttered word: "yes!"

"Where are you in the school, John?" Asked Cindy, softly.

"In the dorm'!" Replied John, his voice no more than a subtle whisper, as he identified his location. "Everyone's asleep," he added, totally without prompt.

Cindy asked him who all the others were that were asleep. John said they were the other boys, of course, and once Cindy asked him how many of them were there, John revealed nearly forty of them. Cindy coaxed him. She said he should

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Below is a list of chapters for the Metaphysics Anthology. The book itself is designed as abit of fun! One man thinking out loud. You should not see it as science, merely enjoy the imagination of the human mind in full swing.

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