Hangar 13

Mac respected her request and placed his tennis shoes against the wall. He sat down cross-legged opposite Ellie. The robe was thick and silky feeling.

Ellie rested her arms on her crossed legs. “I get people from all walks of life who have heard about me word-of-mouth. I journey for my clients in one of two ways, Mac. If they come and see me in person, we both lie down here on the robe together, side by side. I place my left hand over my client’s right. I have a cassette of my drum being beaten, so I turn that on.” She pointed to a small cassette player in the corner of the room. “I close my eyes and allow the drumbeat to make it easy for me to switch to the right brain, and then I move into the fourth dimension.”

“Can you feel it happen?”

“Sure. I’m consciously triggering the switch. It’s important to know that a shaman is trained to turn it on and off at will, Mac. If we don’t, then we’re in big trouble. Let me give you an example. One of my clients—to protect the confidentiality of the healing, I’ll call her Susan—was very sick. She had a major trauma in her past. So we lay down here together with the drum beating in the background. I asked my chief guide, who is a great blue heron, if I had permission to journey for Susan, and I was told yes. I flew on the back of my heron and we went down into what is known as the dark world, which is contained within Mother Earth. I was brought to a house and taken into a room. I saw Susan as a little five-year-old and I saw this man grab her.” Ellie grimaced. “I won’t share all the terrible details, but what I did see was Susan being sexually molested.”

Mac felt Ellie’s emotional reaction to the scene. “You actually saw it?”

“Yes. You see, everything we’ve experienced in life is recorded, like film in the fourth dimension. My guide took me back to the time when Susan was emotionally traumatized, where she lost a huge piece of herself after being abused that way.”

“What did you do?”

“I stopped the man from molesting her, separated them and asked Susan’s little girl if she wanted to come home with me, back to the present Susan. She said yes, so I picked her up and we both rode back on my spirit guide.”

Mac shook his head. “This sounds really weird, you know that?”

“Yes, I do. But before you judge me or the journey, wait until I tell you the outcome.”

“Okay…”

“I brought back Susan’s five-year-old, which really was a traumatic symbol of what had happened to her.” Ellie patted the robe as she got to her knees. “Here, lie down here for a moment and I’ll show you what I did, what I do to all my clients who want soul recovery.”

Mac laid down on his back, his arms at his side. Ellie knelt by his left arm; she cupped her hands over his chest and lightly touched the region over his heart.

“A shaman will ‘blow’ the piece back into the person’s heart and then sit the client up and blow the piece back into the top of his head.” She leaned over Mac and pretended to blow into the circle of her cupped hands, which lay across his heart. Then she placed her hand beneath his neck and helped him sit up. Getting to her feet, she moved to his shoulder and cupped her hands once again, this time on the top of his head. Again she pretended to blow a piece into him. That done, she went to the table, where she picked up a rattle.

“Then I shake this rattle and move it around you four times.” Ellie shook the rattle gently around Mac, noting his doubting expression. “You see, everything is living. This rattle is made out of a gourd, so it’s alive. There are small pebbles gathered from an ant-hill in the rattle, and they’re alive. As I bring this rattle around in a circle and shake it, I’m asking the spirits of the gourd and the stones to encircle you with protective gold light. We always do this after a recovery, because it ensures protection for the client for forty-eight hours afterward.”

Ellie finished and sat down opposite Mac. She held the rattle gently in her hands. “Blowing a piece of someone’s spirit back into them is like major surgery,” she said. “The gold light put into place around you is like a dressing or bandage over the parts of you that experienced it, namely your heart and head.”

Mac nodded. “This is pretty strange, Ellie.”

Sadly, she nodded. “I know it is. The world I live in probably seems like another planet compared to yours.”

“Yes,” he admitted with a chuckle, “it does.” And then his smile disappeared, because he saw the sadness in Ellie’s eyes. “Your ex-husband didn’t buy this,” he said, gesturing around the room.

“No, and he knew what I did long before we married.” She handled the rattle as if it were a child, slowly turning it between her hands. “I was young then. And idealistic. I thought love could conquer all.” Glancing up at Mac, she saw the compassionate expression on his face. “I was wrong. My mother tried to warn me…but I wouldn’t listen. I thought I knew better.”

“Head over heels in love?”

“Yes.” Ellie fought the sudden tears and blinked them away.

Mac didn’t miss the luminous look in her eyes. “If he didn’t accept your beliefs, why did he marry you?”

“That,” Ellie sighed, “is a long story.”

And one she obviously didn’t wish to share with him. Mac could understand that. After all, he was a stranger who had walked into her life only a couple of hours ago. The funny thing about it was, Ellie didn’t seem to be a stranger to him. He liked her. A lot. Silly beliefs or not, she was obviously a well-grounded, practical woman. Mac cast about for a safe topic.

“My marriage wasn’t much better. Johanna met me here at Luke when I’d graduated from flight training. I think she was in love with the fighter-pilot image, not the man.”

Ellie nodded. Mac was an attractive man, not pretty-boy handsome, but he had a strong face, projected immense confidence, and she could see how a woman could be swayed by such a combination. “How long were you married?”

“Six years.”

“Me, too.”

Mac wanted to ask if there was anyone in her life presently. But he knew that was none of his business. Forcing a smile, he said, “So tell me, what happens after one of these healings?”

Relieved to be off a highly sensitive topic, Ellie said, “When I come back from a journey, I write down what I found. I turn off the drumming tape and we sit here talking. I told Susan what I saw, for example. She didn’t relate to it nor did she remember being sexually molested.”

“Did Susan believe what you saw?”

Ellie shrugged. “It’s not the shaman’s responsibility to prove anything, Mac. I told her that now this piece of her had been returned, she would begin to integrate it back into her consciousness, and memories or dreams might occur. In the meantime, I suggested that she find a woman therapist to help her uncover her past.”

Mac just sat there, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It’s just such a farfetched concept.”

“It’s strange, I know that.”

Mac shrugged. “I feel like I’m in an alien world.”

“That’s okay. So, let’s get back to your problem in Hangar 13.”

“Do you think it may be a lost piece of someone?” Mac ventured, trying to see through her framework of reality.

“I don’t know. It’s possible, Mac. But it could be what we call a discarnate soul, the spirit of someone who has died but is refusing to leave to go to ‘heaven,’ and is staying around for a particular reason.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can’t. Maybe if I go over to the hangar, I might be able to pick up on the energy. Maybe not. I can’t ‘see’ particularly well when I’m not in that altered state.” She touched her hair. “When I’m not journeying, I’m pretty much left brain, like you. So I’m ‘blind’ to the more-subtle vibrations of the fourth dimension that surround us.”

“I’ve heard some people can see spirits or ghosts, though.”

“Some can. I don’t have that skill.”

“But if you were in that altered state, you could ‘see’?”

“That’s right.”

Mac nodded. “So you need to go to the hangar?”

“Yes, and we’ll take the drum along.”

He grimaced. “If my people heard a drum being beaten, they’d think I was crazy.”

Ellie said nothing and watched the play of emotions on Mac’s face. His large eyes reminded her of an eagle’s piercing look. “I imagine you took a real chance just coming over to talk to me about it,” she guessed wryly. “The metaphysical and military worlds don’t usually have any common ground to walk upon.”

“You’ve got that right,” Mac muttered, bowing his head, his mind racing with possibilities.