Your questions remain very weird, G.A., and there are too
many of them; but they do bring up one story for me, so I guess I
will tell it.
A long time ago a young man, about 35 years old, a
teacher in a small college, came to me with a very serious
depression. After our first meeting, he sent a note describing a bad
The dream became a centerpiece of our work together.
kept a copy of his note, and these are his actual words.
I watched a boy, a teenager maybe, walking into a large room.
There was the idea that he had suffered some kind of cerebral
injury, perhaps in an earlier fall from a child’s swing, and the
brain damage was significant.
Once into the room, he
approached a long rectangular table behind which sat an array of
older men, and in the center, kind of like the director or chairman
of the board, was Walt Disney.
On the table were various small
objects: pens, notebooks, glasses of water, coffee cups, keys. The
boy examined these various objects, began to concentrate on them,
and, psychokinetically, made them begin to whirl, levitate, and
move up and down the table.
It was a dazzling, entertaining
demonstration of paranormal powers.
Then Walt Disney reached over the table and gently, lovingly
cupped the boy’s head in both his hands
This affectionate holding
continued for a few moments, but then Disney began to press
Very slowly the pressure increased, moment by moment,
eventually becoming extremely powerful.
Then it increased even
more, and finally, with Walt Disney exerting all of his enormous