without exception everyone seemed pleased, relaxed, and happy with their experience. The atmosphere in the room was so peaceful, and as my turn came and the speaker reached out his hands to me I had no qualms at all. Placing my hands in his seemed the most natural thing to do, so I was completely unprepared for what happened next.
As he held my hands I began to shake. Slowly at first, and then, as if I had grabbed hold of a jackhammer, strange and strong vibrations began to run right through my whole body.
I sat, paralyzed, unable to move, unable to do or say anything, as the vibrations in my body grew in intensity until they reached my head. My mouth was filled with pins and needles, my teeth and gums shook violently, and my face was a ball of red hot fire.
Still the speaker held on to my hands, although it must have been difficult, as I was compelled then, by this phenomenal force, out of my chair. I stood, feeling as though I had been lifted bodily off the floor, still shaking furiously.
Terrified at what was happening, I was completely unaware that everyone else in the room had stood up, dazedly watching our two figures, mine and the healer's, convulsing uncontrollably in the middle of the room.
Somewhere inside of me I was striving for control of this thing, this terrible force, which was trying to consume my very being. Eventually, and with great effort, I let rip a yell, so fearsome that it must have sounded like an Indian war cry, and it was as if a spell had been broken.
Suddenly I was myself again, the pins and needles gone and the vibrations stopped. I felt like a limp and empty shell. Then my legs buckled, and I collapsed back onto the chair, feeling utterly exhausted. I could not stop the tears that began to rain down my face.
The speaker put his arm around me, and Irene, fussing over me like a mother hen, uttered an explanation to everyone that I had been under great stress lately and that my nerves had just snapped.
Someone brought me a cup of tea, and as I sat there, grateful for the hot liquid burning down my throat, I remember thinking, Never again. Never again will I let anyone like him, anyone “psychic,” touch me.
As I looked around the room I felt once again ashamed of myself, so foolish, and I was convinced that the whole group would think of me as some sort of exhibitionist.
They'll definitely think I'm crackers now, I thought. And they are right. I really am cracking up.
Samantha, blissfully asleep in the guest room, was my excuse now for leaving the group. I climbed the stairs, grateful to be away from all those people, and went into the room where Samantha lay. Everything here was quiet except for the sound of gentle breathing as my child slept, oblivious of all around her. Sitting carefully on the bed, I thought hard about all that had happened only a few minutes before.
The speaker had felt what I had felt, of that I was sure. But why? Why had it happened, and how? I was no longer frightened, simply puzzled by the whole thing.
I stayed in the comfort of that peaceful room, with Samantha, for nearly an hour, until I heard the guests below leaving, calling good night. Only when I thought that everyone had gone did I make my way down the stairs, wondering what the Denhams’ reaction would be to my ridiculous behavior.
Quietly I closed the bedroom door and started across the landing, when for the second time that night I almost leapt out of my skin with fright. Out of the shadows loomed the figure of a man, and only just in time, before I started to scream out, I recognized the man who had come to give the group a talk—the healer man.
He explained quickly that he had been waiting for me because he realized how frightened I had been.
“Come and talk to me,” he said. “I would like to explain to you what happened, and why.”
We went back to the sitting room, where Paul and Irene had also been waiting.
I was forced to smile, because the first thing the healer man said was,