paper, the rightness of the dream hit me. It hadn't even been on my mind, but I couldn't argue with this feeling. I knew for certain my dream was true. At that moment, I made a clear choice to begin premed. I picked up the telephone.
“Mother, I have something to tell you. I want to go to medical school.” There was a long silence; I thought the phone had gone dead. “Mother, are you there?”
“Of course, dear. I'm just surprised. This is so sudden. Why didn't you ever mention it before?”
I opened up and told her about the dream. She had become more tolerant of such things since I began working with Thelma. When I had finished, there was another long pause.
“So what do you think?” I finally asked.
My mother seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I'm sure you'd make a wonderful doctor. If that's what you want to do, I'm completely behind you. But this is a big decision. I don't believe in dreams the way you do, so I wouldn't start a career on the basis of one. Why don't you give it some time to sink in? Remember, you never liked high school. Medical school and residency are a long haul.”
When I hung up, doubt overtook me. My mother had sounded extremely cautious. I could see that she wasn't against my becoming a doctor. She'd be thrilled if I did something “positive” with my life, and of course valued the status and service of the medical profession. But understanding my past as she did, she was genuinely concerned for me. Maybe she was right. Medical school had to be a crazy idea. Why would I choose to upset the balance in my life to pursue so demanding a path? But finally, all the considerations she raised didn't make any difference. Logic had nothing to do with what I seemed impelled to do.
During the months following this dream, problems with the lab that I hadn't noticed before became more evident. When I began, I had felt a purity of purpose in the research we conducted. But in the past year, some of that had changed. Because of increasing involvement with the media, our work was gradually getting polluted. Films based on the lab were sensationalizing and misrepresenting the psychic. TV magazine shows were the worst, viewing the paranormal with obvious disbelief, presenting many factual inaccuracies, using our work as hype to improve their ratings.
Perhaps this was the reason I was being directed to become a doctor. Psychic experiences were so easily misunderstood; they needed to be legitimized. Although Thelma's Ph.D. was helpful, it didn't carry enough clout in a medical center comprised primarily of physicians who often considered themselves a step above such a degree. For some of the more conservative doctors at the NPI, our lab was an embarrassment to science. If they had the power, I'm sure they would have forced us to leave. Al though the director, Dr. Jollyn West, was a skeptic about parapsychology, still he provided Thelma's lab space and defended her right to do research. Bur since she seemed always to paste together the lab's finances from gifts and her teaching income, or relied on volunteers, the lab was never really secure.
My only hope of turning such attitudes around, I was convinced, was to become part of the medical community, no matter how much I disliked the idea. If I had ever really sat down and mapped out what I was getting myself into, I probably wouldn't have chosen medical school. But luckily, I didn't think too fat into the future. I was riding an invisible wave. I tried to let go and trust it.
My work with Thelma had given me a strong foundation in psychic research and a structure from which to grow, but I was ready to move on. One final factor was that Kirlian photography was falling out of favor among parapsychologists: There was increasing data indicating that the effect was due only to moisture. Although Thelma never believed this, my own enthusiasm for working with it waned: I wanted to find other methods of establishing the validity of phenomena I knew to
“Mother, I have something to tell you. I want to go to medical school.” There was a long silence; I thought the phone had gone dead. “Mother, are you there?”
“Of course, dear. I'm just surprised. This is so sudden. Why didn't you ever mention it before?”
I opened up and told her about the dream. She had become more tolerant of such things since I began working with Thelma. When I had finished, there was another long pause.
“So what do you think?” I finally asked.
My mother seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I'm sure you'd make a wonderful doctor. If that's what you want to do, I'm completely behind you. But this is a big decision. I don't believe in dreams the way you do, so I wouldn't start a career on the basis of one. Why don't you give it some time to sink in? Remember, you never liked high school. Medical school and residency are a long haul.”
When I hung up, doubt overtook me. My mother had sounded extremely cautious. I could see that she wasn't against my becoming a doctor. She'd be thrilled if I did something “positive” with my life, and of course valued the status and service of the medical profession. But understanding my past as she did, she was genuinely concerned for me. Maybe she was right. Medical school had to be a crazy idea. Why would I choose to upset the balance in my life to pursue so demanding a path? But finally, all the considerations she raised didn't make any difference. Logic had nothing to do with what I seemed impelled to do.
During the months following this dream, problems with the lab that I hadn't noticed before became more evident. When I began, I had felt a purity of purpose in the research we conducted. But in the past year, some of that had changed. Because of increasing involvement with the media, our work was gradually getting polluted. Films based on the lab were sensationalizing and misrepresenting the psychic. TV magazine shows were the worst, viewing the paranormal with obvious disbelief, presenting many factual inaccuracies, using our work as hype to improve their ratings.
Perhaps this was the reason I was being directed to become a doctor. Psychic experiences were so easily misunderstood; they needed to be legitimized. Although Thelma's Ph.D. was helpful, it didn't carry enough clout in a medical center comprised primarily of physicians who often considered themselves a step above such a degree. For some of the more conservative doctors at the NPI, our lab was an embarrassment to science. If they had the power, I'm sure they would have forced us to leave. Al though the director, Dr. Jollyn West, was a skeptic about parapsychology, still he provided Thelma's lab space and defended her right to do research. Bur since she seemed always to paste together the lab's finances from gifts and her teaching income, or relied on volunteers, the lab was never really secure.
My only hope of turning such attitudes around, I was convinced, was to become part of the medical community, no matter how much I disliked the idea. If I had ever really sat down and mapped out what I was getting myself into, I probably wouldn't have chosen medical school. But luckily, I didn't think too fat into the future. I was riding an invisible wave. I tried to let go and trust it.
My work with Thelma had given me a strong foundation in psychic research and a structure from which to grow, but I was ready to move on. One final factor was that Kirlian photography was falling out of favor among parapsychologists: There was increasing data indicating that the effect was due only to moisture. Although Thelma never believed this, my own enthusiasm for working with it waned: I wanted to find other methods of establishing the validity of phenomena I knew to
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