Counting the Down

"I will be counting down from 10 to one," said Jed. "With each number, you will take a step down the staircase that you now see in front of you." And there they were: white marble steps, and I was walking down. By the time Jed got to "one," I was in space. A gray alien appeared, and we stepped into a beam of yellow light. Jed snapped his fingers and asked me to describe the scene. "I am inside the spaceship," I answered. "There are human bodies hanging from meat hooks. Their stomachs are being sliced open by uniformed reptilian soldiers."

As I spoke, my voice sounded like someone else's. In a moment of lucidity, I noticed Jed writing something down. Then he said, "Please raise a finger on your left hand." Almost involuntarily, I did so. Moments later I heard myself describing yet another disturbing scene: "I am a caveman eating frogs."

Then: "I am watching Jesus get crucified. People are all bloody and looking up at me. I do not understand the language they are speaking." Images of burning crosses flashed through my head. I was looking down at my own body sitting in the chair below, as Jed snapped again.

"Are you ready to return to the present?" he asked. An hour had passed. I slowly opened my eyes, stood up, and gave Jed $65. Maybe it was the intoxicants, or maybe — as the therapy's critics claim — it was a heady mix of will and imagination. I didn't care. It was worth every penny. — Jason Handelsman

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Grand, Old, Tardy

Judging from the violence of Rudy Giuliani's collapse as a presidential candidate, Republicans are in big trouble. The American voter, who whistled to work while the foundation of the national economy eroded, is awake.

Taken from: Eye on Miami (eyeonmiami.blogspot.com)