(Be prepared for a true story that came to light thanks to regression therapy.)
Marie was a young girl who lived in a small mountain village with her family. Her father was a marvelous man with thinning hair. As for her mother, she couldn’t remember her that well. There were four children in all, and Marie was the third eldest. Their village had very lush plant life, and she loved to be among the greenery when spring dawned and the flowers bloomed. She liked to be with her mother, father, and siblings in their lovely home. There was only one thing that could take the little girl away: Time. In time, the little girl would grow up and, as was customary, would be sent to a monastery. As it happened, neither her mother nor her father wanted to send their little girl away, but it was the tradition. Marie would soon reluctantly follow her destiny and leave home, although she couldn’t understand why she was being torn away from her mountain, flowers, and family…
* * *
Hasan was 18 months old when he started kindergarten. He never wanted to leave his mother’s side, but she had to send him there because she was a working mom. There needed to be a feasible solution for her son’s care, and the solution in the city of Mersin during 1978 was a kindergarten named Yurdum Kreş…. Hasan never, really never, liked this particular nursery. He knew he had to go there, but he would still look into his mother’s eyes and plead, “Why do you take me there?” He was destined to go there, and he knew it, so he was separated from his mother’s arms every morning as a tear trailed down his cheek.
* * *
Marie was intimidated by the huge building. She had only ever known the small house where her family lived and the tiny church in her village. The monastery, however, was an immense structure. Marie felt tiny before it. She was a small 12-year-old girl. A small girl who had been torn away from her precious mountain and confined to this huge, stone building, just like lots of other girls living there. Marie didn’t have a mother to comfort her at night. She only had her new friends at the dormitory, those horrified little girls…
* * *
Hasan didn’t know whether he was two, five, or three years old. In fact, he didn’t know his age at all. The only thing he knew was that his mother didn’t take him to the nursery that morning, and he was jubilant about it. He was with his mum rather than in the kindergarten. However, she did take him there at three o’clock in the afternoon, and the little boy was so disappointed. His teachers took him to a bed, where he cried many tears of sadness. Here he was, in the place he most hated. He settled down with the book they had given him to amuse himself with, but Hasan wouldn’t forget that moment, even after 35 years… As regards the kindergarten, he would be separated from his mother every morning until the age of eight.
* * *
Of course, there weren’t just frightened little girls in the monastery. There were also “big sisters” who were accustomed to monastery life, and these sisters weren’t as pure as they should have been. Lesbianism was common, and the big girls often selected their lovers from the younger girls, even if these younger girls objected. It was the system, and this system would change little Marie’s life forever…
Marie’s “big sister” was the most powerful girl in the entire monastery. Everyone feared her. She terrorized the little girls with her “bodyguards,” and she had fixed her gaze on little Marie from the moment she arrived at the monastery. Timid little Marie had not yet fully comprehended where she was, and she surely didn’t know what being a woman meant. She had just learned what she should do with her period, and now there was this “big sister” she had to learn about. The girl kept her eyes on Marie during morning prayers, watching her constantly. The other girls started to whisper in Marie’s ear, telling her that she was the property of the big sister now, so she shouldn’t look at other girls.” Marie, however, didn’t quite realize the significance of these words. When she finally did, she sincerely wished that she hadn’t…
* * *
Kindergarten was not just somewhere that little Hasan disliked—it was a place he hated wholeheartedly. His favorite way to pass the time was to sit alone at the window and stare at the outside world. He preferred to be alone, even during lunchtimes, and his teachers had to drag him to the dining hall. He tried to resist, but he knew he would have to finish off his plate. What’s more, because he was always late, his teacher made him also eat the other children’s leftovers. After all, why waste the food?
One day, during the celebratory day of national sovereignty, which was also children’s day, the children waited in the nursery for their parents to pick them up. They were left without food and water, and there wasn’t a single teacher to supervise them. Half a loaf of stale bread had been left on the table, and the kids gingerly tried to eat pieces from it. Yes, this is the scene from a private kindergarten in 1982: a bunch of unsupervised children and half a loaf of stale bread…
Yet this wasn’t Hasan’s only nightmare. He had a blonde teacher called Gülten, a stern woman who didn’t hesitate to beat children who disobeyed her. Hasan feared her so much. When his mother took him out of Yurdum Kreş and registered him in another kindergarten, he was on cloud nine. “Yay! No more Gülten!” he screamed. But this happiness would be short lived, because after a couple of months, Gülten was transferred to the new nursery. She beat the living daylights out of Hasan one day, just for getting out of bed because he thought his mother had come to pick him up. Hasan was bigger than the other boys now, so they had started putting him to sleep in a separate room. There was no one else around, and Gülten didn’t hesitate to kick him in the belly. How dare this child get out of bed during sleep hour; how dare he?
* * *
Two girls held down Marie’s arms as they pressed her to the bed. There was no one else in the dorm, as if it had been deliberately cleared for this event. Marie screamed at the top of her lungs, but the girls told her to stop or she would make it worse for herself. The “big sister” had a long, thick stick in her hand. Marie had twice seen her father bathing, and she thought that the hewn wooden stick in the big sister’s hand resembled a male organ, but this thought gave her just a moment of relief. She grew terrified as the big sister prepared to put it into her…
Marie had rejected the big sister up to that day. How could she do the things she did? They were in a house of God after all. What’s more, Marie didn’t know much about intimate relationships. Still, the big sister continued harassing her, and she was tired of being rejected. That night she took action and cornered Marie with her personal thugs. Marie was helpless and desperate. She tried to resist, but her struggles were hopeless. There was no way she could escape, so she prepared herself for the pain the wooden object would inflict on her…
Yet the object never entered her. The “big sister” stopped short at the last moment and said with a terrifying face, “I won’t be as merciful next time. I’ll just ram it straight in. Get it through your thick skull that you’re mine now.”
Marie would later prepare herself for the days to come…
* * *
Hasan pleaded, “Burak, let go of me! Please!” He was now a big boy in second grade. Burak was his classmate, and he worshipped him, but Burak bullied Hasan constantly. This time he was strangling little Hasan and refusing to let go. This had continued through the whole of break time, but Hasan hadn’t done anything other than plead to be released. He would remember the feeling, even after 30 years as he wrote his story. He desperately pleaded, but Burak still didn’t let go, and this feeling of desperation would live on in Hasan for a lifetime.
* * *
Marie was now the big sister’s lover, or more accurately, her property. She didn’t object to her demands, and amazingly, she actually had come to like it. While she had merely submitted to her at first, she had later started to respond to her lover. She actually looked forward to bedtime. Meanwhile, time ticked on, and little Marie grew up with each new day.
One day, a young priest was introduced to the monastery. Marie saw him at the ceremony and was very much taken with him. Marie was a beautiful girl indeed now, but the priest wasn’t interested in her. He wasn’t even looking around. Marie soon started longing for the services where she could see her priest. She even got to exchange a couple of words with him once.
Even though she admired her priest during the daytime, she belonged to the big sister at night, and the big sister belonged to her. After growing up a little and spending many nights with the big sister, Marie’s fears had started to wear off. She had come to enjoy the idea of being the lover of the most powerful girl and benefiting from her power. Her fears had turned into a desire for power. No one else could touch her as she grew more powerful. This power, however, derived from her “big sister,” and Marie had to do as she was told to keep hold of this power.
* * *
Hasan liked to play football. He also liked watching it. One day, as his father checked his lottery ticket, Hasan heard that the lottery winner was called Fenerbahçe, and he immediately liked that name. He knew there was a football club with the same name, so he told people he was a “Fenerbahçe fan.” Blue, the team’s color, was his favorite color anyway. One day as he climbed the stairs at school, Burak approached him and said, “You’re not a Fenerbahçe fan anymore; you’re a Beşiktaş fan now. Got it?” Hasan feared Burak, so with a burning desire to appease him, he said, “Sure, I’m a Beşiktaş fan.” He meant it as well. He unexpectedly grew very fond of the team, and after a number of years, he met with Burak, the boy he had once feared so much. They watched a Beşikaş match in a café, and Hasan hugged and embraced his old friend, telling people that it was Burak who had made him a Beşiktaş fan.
They watched this match against Fenerbahçe together, and the match went down in history because Beşiktaş defeated Fenerbahçe in their home of Kadıköy. Two friends, both fans of Beşiktaş, hugged each other every time Beşiktaş scored…
* * *
Marie was losing her senses. How could she do this to her? How on earth could her big sister tell her that she was bored of her? How could she take another lover from the new kids? What was that about? Marie burned with rage. She didn’t know quite what to do, but she knew she surely had to do something about it.
The solution came from a least expected source: The High Priest. She had always liked the man, and she sympathized with him. He had once told her, “I see a big potential in you that you’ve yet to understand.” Marie had readily accepted these kind words during her stay in the monastery, but she had no idea what they meant. One day, when she was in a rage, she stumbled upon the High Priest. He said nothing when he saw her expression, but he took her off to one side. “Be ready tonight, and tell no one that you’re going to see me.” Marie had no intention of telling anyone, and she felt that she was on the brink of a significant development.
When they met up that night, the priest asked her to follow him. They told other people that they were going to see a parishioner in town. They left the monastery, and the priest took Marie to a cottage in the middle of the forest. It was not easy to find the cottage, and Marie recalled passing through this part of the forest many times without ever realizing there was a cottage here. “How come I never noticed this cottage before?” she asked. The priest smiled as he replied with an expression that was far from benign, “Everything will soon become clear.”
When they walked in, Marie found herself in some sort of laboratory, and it would change her life forever. There were bottles of all shapes and sizes on the walls. There were strange things that she knew nothing of, and a large table stood in the middle of the room. There was also another slightly taller table.
Marie was about to learn the first rules of dark magic.
* * *
Many years passed as little Hasan grew up, married, and had two children of his own. He was now an author who wrote about aspects of spiritualism. He still felt his troubles from his long-past childhood, so he sought a solution to cure his groundless fears, his uncontrollable anger, the darkness he knew was boiling inside, and his desire to ingratiate himself with the powerful. He had taken part in numerous spiritual practices since embarking on his journey of self-discovery, and through these, he had untied many of the knots within him. However, he was particularly curious about a certain practice known as “regression therapy.” Hasan hankered after a session, which he believed would be a visit to his past lives with the help of hypnosis. Sure, he had already recalled various visions and emotions from his past lives during his other spiritual explorations, but he was curious about the feeling that hypnosis would provide him. Unfortunately, he didn’t know whom he should go to, because he believed hypnosis to be a sensitive and personal process. After mulling it over for some time, he met someone he felt he could trust. Two years later, they were ready to start working together…
The therapist informed Hasan thoroughly before the session. He explained how regression is not an attempt to hypnotize people so they can remember their past lives. He also said that this therapy wasn’t provided on demand. He explained the essence of the matter, “Each practitioner is different, and each subject requires a different method. Hypnosis is not always needed; it’s just used when required. I first try to understand the nature of a subject and his or her problems before starting a session. I listen to them before proceeding with what I think to be the most suitable method. Not every counselee will visit his or her past lives. If the problem is caused by a past life, then sure, we’ll definitely explore it, but it may not be so easy if the subject is hesitant. Some are open to it, while others are not. Some problems are not from a past life but rather from childhood. Any regression therapy is unique to the person receiving it.” This explanation continued for almost an hour.
He also informed me about the governing bodies for regression therapists around the world, making sure to underline the importance of strict and intense training. He said, “We do not accept everyone who applies for training. There is a preselection phase before the lengthy training process begins. Our students can become certified regression therapists only after they present case studies. We refer some of our consultees to our students. This is a highly valued opportunity, but few therapists can do it justice. Many people with little knowledge claim they can administer regression therapy, but it’s too risky for such novices. You may encounter some cases that require real expertise; otherwise regression therapy could do more harm than good. I have worked on over 3,000 cases so far, and this has given me ample opportunities to improve my methods. My consultees and I have contributed much to each other, but I cannot accept any new clients because I cannot keep up with the demand. So, I refer them to my students instead. I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention my name when you talk about your experiences here.”
After this lengthy conversation, they were ready to start the session…
* * *
Young, timid Marie started to become a much feared and powerful “big sister” in her own right with the aid of her newly learned craft. Her command and influence on other girls in the monastery became stronger, and since her master was the High Priest himself, no one could oppose her. The High Priest taught his student everything he knew about the dark art, knowledge he had himself learned from a gypsy. He knew his student would soon be going places. The darkness from which Marie drew her power became increasingly darker, giving her more and more strength. She was a powerful and feared person now, and she reveled in the feeling. Besides, she had a need for vengeance, and boy did she get it, big time. Marie made the life of her former “big sister” a living hell. She first became a rival to her and excluded her completely. Finally, she banished her consciousness. She had made a zombie out of the big sister, and the girl didn’t even know which realm she was in anymore. Marie worked hard to ensure her situation would never improve, even though the girl was nothing but an empty shell…
* * *
The therapist asked a question before they started the first session: “We approach a particular problem during a regression session. What would you like to work on today?”
Hasan replied, “Let’s work on my anger and fears. I feel some tension around my belly at the moment, so shall we address that first?”
While they believed this session would revolve around the tension in his stomach area, they found something quite unexpected. They discovered that Hasan’s past-life memories actually belonged to another being. He was harboring a foreign energy in his energy field, and he needed to say goodbye to it in order to free himself. This farewell relieved his fears and anger, but they weren’t completely banished. When he returned for his second session, his stomach was in agony, so much so that he almost cried.
“Let’s work on my relationship patterns,” asked Hasan, “Why do I keep attracting the same type of people? What is it that I’m failing to see? Why do I invite dominant women into my life?” After a couple of minutes, Hasan was lying on the ground, panting and crying out, “I’m giving birth and being born at the same time. It hurts so much…”
* * *
Marie was shouting and screaming. She was in incredible pain. Nuns were standing around her, and while they disapproved, they were still going to help this “child of sin” to be born. A sister was giving birth in the monastery! This unbelievable scene was about to get even darker. Marie screamed one last time as she felt something sliding out of her. The nuns stared in horror at what had come out. None of them had the stomach to pick up the baby. They were wildly praying and crossing themselves. Everyone was in a tremendous panic, and they soon started to run away. Marie was lying on the table with her legs spread open and an uncut umbilical cord hanging out…
* * *
“I saw my baby’s father for a moment, but just a moment. I can’t stand it any longer,” said Hasan as he lay on the ground, weary and exhausted. He had experienced childbirth, and now he was experiencing death. “My spirit is gone, gone damn it!” he cried. Hasan then sensed a great relief in his body and completely collapsed on the rug of the therapist’s room.
* * *
Marie was dead. She was detached from her body, feeling lighter and relieved, yet she still watched the world below. She looked at her body and then at the creature lying between her thighs…
* * *
The therapist led Hasan with questions like, “Let’s go back a little in time now. Tell me what you see.”
Hasan then started to recount Marie’s story, “One day, I trapped the young priest in his room. Years had passed since he first came to the monastery, and he had started liking me too. A man of God would surely not follow his desires, however, so I needed to take action myself. I raped him.” It was Marie talking through Hasan. She conceived her baby after their fourth sexual encounter, and she worked a very dark spell on the unborn baby. She didn’t want her baby to be weak like she had been, so she cast something called a “Black Dragon Spell.” This spell had considerable side effects, so it made the baby deformed. This dehumanized baby had then taken her life.
* * *
She was dead, yet she wasn’t completely at peace. Sure, she felt much better and lighter now, but she was also trapped in this world. She felt like she was dead, yet she could not quite make the transition. It was as if she was imprisoned in a dark cage. She could not escape the monastery…
* * *
“Make sure you know you’re dead,” said the therapist.
“I am,” Marie replied, but I can’t get out. I made something immortal with magic, and it has confined me to this building. I can’t even move.”
* * *
Marie heard a voice calling out to her, “It’s over now; it’s in the past. You are dead. You can relax. It’s all over now. Come on, you can get out of here.” She had no idea where the voice was coming from, but she felt herself become lighter and lighter. The dark prison around her was slowly dismantling itself, letting in a little light. Just then, she saw her “big sister.” She was rolled up into a ball in desperation. She didn’t even know she was dead. Soon, the voice called out to her as well. She gradually came around, just as Marie had a while ago. Marie then saw her mother and father, the priest, and the High Priest… They all started to transform into beings of radiant light. Their burdens were gone, and the performance was now over. They were ready to take a bow and leave the stage. They saw each other as they were, their faces bright with the gratification of success. They had completed a marvelous play with a great story, and they were ready to move on now. As they started to slowly fade, Marie heard the faint sound of drumming…
* * *
“Now, I’ll beat the drum for you as you say goodbye to her, Hasan. This story is over now. It’s time for you to kiss her goodbye. Off we go…” said the therapist. He then started to rhythmically beat the shaman drum in his hand.
* * *
Marie suddenly found herself in another body, a male body. She didn’t know how, but she felt attached to him, tied together somehow. She started to drift away with the help of the rhythmic drumming before completely breaking free. She emerged from his belly first, followed by his whole body. When she looked back, she saw a tall male body lying on the ground. Another man stood beside him playing a drum. The sound of the drum was magical. The body on the ground was convulsing as Marie came out. Suddenly, she understood who this man was. He was her in another body…
* * *
Hasan was shaking all over. He felt the presence of the woman standing beside him and knew this woman was him. He said, “While I thought I had seen many of my past lives, I never felt your presence until today. I didn’t know you had so much influence on me, but it’s over now, Marie. You can rest now; we can both rest easy. It’s over.” The last connection between them then broke. Marie looked back at him for one last time before going to the source…
Hasan felt enormous relief as he opened his eyes. He looked at the therapist and his words spilled out of his mouth, “Wow! Good grief…”
* * *
They later sat and evaluated the session. The therapist commented, “Interesting, what initially surfaces in a session is usually the past lives where the person was a victim, but you were both a victim and a perpetrator here. I wonder how much this has affected your current life…”
Hasan also saw the connections between his life and that of Marie. He recalled how he had used the words, “It’s as if I have a black dragon in my belly,” in his articles from time to time. He told the therapist, “I never thought I meant it literally,” and laughed. He had faced the reason behind his fears, his anger, his lust for power, his inclination to darkness, and his attraction to dominant women. It was all so fast. Facing this had enabled the knots to come undone.
It was very important at this point for the therapist to know how to direct the consultee, so they could make the necessary arrangements together. “Everyone can see their past lives,” he explained, “but the important part is what you plan to do with it. If you can interpret this knowledge and help people overcome their problems, that’s fine. But if you just want to see who you were in a past life out of curiosity, then count me out. I don’t work with such people, because no one benefits from it. Besides, the further you dig, the more memories you recall. What’s important is the benefit it provides to your current reality. We’ll have a couple more sessions together, and you’ll gradually feel a significant relief. We’ll lift the weight off so you can act more easily and freely. However, bear in mind that your journey continues constantly, and there may be other knots to untie. In a sense, this is how we live our lives; we evolve. Spiritual evolution doesn’t mean the evolution of the spirit. The spirit doesn’t evolve, because it’s already as mighty as it can be. What we do is develop our brains and nervous functions, so we can feel and appreciate the spirit more. This is what spiritual evolution means. It’s the process of educating one’s body to better feel the spirit. That’s what I use regression for.”
* * *
Hasan’s eyes opened sharply at seven the next morning. Something told him that he should write down his experiences. Maybe it was Marie telling him this. Maybe she wanted her story to be told. “Getting up at 7 am? Seriously?” he said to himself as he closed his eyes again. But something kept nagging him, so he abruptly tumbled out of bed. He took a very quick shower and sat at the computer. After the first clatter of key presses, the cursor blinked next to some words, waiting for more to follow: “Marie was a young girl who lived in a small mountain village with her family…”
