Friends,
here's a retrieval from "More Adventures In Eternity".  
The original rough notes, of course, polished up for publication.

gordon







                A MORE DETAILED RETRIEVAL



"About five weeks after my first hemi-sync retrieval, on the Sunday
afternoon of May 23rd, I lay back to attempt contact with a local
criminal legend. For about a week our newspapers had run stories
on an escaped bank robber. He was one of those kind but cunning
fellows who gain the public’s admiration by repeatedly outwitting
the authorities without ever harming anyone in his path. A born
outlaw, he’d been in and out of jail all his adult life. In an age
where violence and vengeance are all too common, there was a
taste of refreshing old-fashioned adventure to the tale. While on
the lam throughout our huge and largely unpopulated province he
left taunting messages for police and sent a scathing letter to the
warden of his institution. Finally he was trapped in a house in
Toronto. Whilst police tried to negotiate his surrender, the
unexpected occurred: he accidentally shot himself while talking on
a cell phone.
"A full schedule kept me from the nagging inner voice that
wanted him retrieved for about three days. When I finally focused,
I found him in what Monroe calls focus 23 that is just the other side
of death, the gray area of mists and anxious confusion. He was
sitting, slumped over, head in hands, glum and morose. I introduced
myself and said why I’d come. My notes say that this was
the ‘beginning of a long conversation’, but I’m afraid I cannot fill
in the dialogue for you, as such details tend to be the first thing to
disappear when one comes out of meditation. It is all one can do to
sketch out the basic outline of what went on.
"He tells me the afterlife is not for him. Criminals and suicides?
Someone who didn’t go to church? Hardly. I tell him that he’s a bit
of a hero and that people look up to him for not harming anyone.
This seems to get him going a bit. Suddenly he cares passionately.
This is good; passion is energy and can be easily retooled. “Like
those bastards in Brampton? (referring to a recent local bank
robbery where a teller was needlessly shot) No need for that. Just
showing off. They should kill them.” I could see that codes of
honour had been broken, but use the moment to tell him that I
knew he wasn’t cruel and could fit into the afterlife. We talk some
more, about his hero, a bank robber from the 1930’s. Ask again: no,
he still doesn’t want to go. He asks if I will apologize to his warden
for that ‘smart aleck’ letter. He’s sorry now; it was just that he
couldn’t stand being locked up and could never go back. I tell him
I’ll try. I tell him that the afterlife’s the best vacation ever. He tells
me he’s never had a vacation. I say, “Well you got one now, and
it’s more fun than you’d ever believe”.
"I somehow manage to get his agreement to at least look at the
afterlife, and if he doesn’t like it he can come back. This is a line I
later used on a lot of souls, as the ‘back door out’ option seemed
help with their sense of really not belonging in heaven. Centuries
of various religious rules and regulations have left us with a
populace that feels quite undeserving. It is as if you’re inviting
them to some A list party where they’re convinced they’ll only be
found out and shown the door. He’s still wondering why he
should trust me, and I tell him he’ll just have to go with the
program and see. No jails in the afterlife? No cops? No and no.
"Not where we’re going anyway. And no banks either.
Finally we float up over the Toronto skyline and out over Lake
Ontario. This move had worked so well with a little boy I’d moved
on a few days before I couldn’t resist trying it again. My bank
robber says the lake looks so calm. I say that one day he will too.
After a moment I make the switch to the astral plane and we float
down into some lovely gardens. Two men approach right away.
Jerry and Sam. Handshakes all round. I suspect he knows them
from jails or foster homes. They say they’re gonna show him the
ropes and he seems fine with that. It’s time for me to be off and I
make my goodbyes. He’s surprised. Most retrievees are. I don’t
think any of them believe you’re actually living on earth. If you can
get them to take you seriously at all, then they assume you’re some
kinda guardian angel, even if they’ve never believed in guardian
angels. I got this so often from folk over the years I started saying
“No, I’m not dead, I’m meditating in Mississauga”. As I’m disappearing
I hear the words, “He’s quite a guy”.



...more to come...