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  S. I could, but we must not muddy the water at this juncture, my friend. For now, it is imperative that we focus on your life as Marcus Reno, or you would not be able to do what you've given yourself this life to do. Just know that you are a being of divine proportion, knowing no limitation.

  N. Just what have I given myself this life as Marcus Reno to do?

  S. Let's get back to their day and time and find out.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Entering the living room, Marcus was stunned to see piles of books, manuscripts and periodicals stacked on the floor and upon every available chair and table. Mountains of books stacked precariously in no discernible order. "Follow me, gentlemen," Albrecht said as he lead his guests through the living room and into the kitchen. The trail of stacked books continued through the dining room area and into the hallway leading to the kitchen.

  "Always get my best thinking done in the kitchen," he continued. "Let's park here and relax a bit." The large kitchen was apparently a paper free zone as all the tables, counters and chairs were open and spotless. "My housekeeper keeps the kitchen, bedrooms, and baths in ship shape order. Won't touch the rest of the place though and can't say I blame her."

  "So, Marcus, how much has our mutual acquaintance here told you about his past escapades?" "A bit," Marcus responded. "Willy told me about his hunt for James Gang treasure and a thing or two about you and your interest in Jesse and some guy named Dalton." "Good. That's a start. We still have quite a bit of ground to cover, however. First off, we need to gather some reading material for you."

  "Go to my library, second door on your left as you exit the dining room and grab the title Jesse James by T. J. Stiles and Many Lives, Many Masters by Brian Weiss. You'll find that my shelved collection is organized alphabetically by author. Take your time, my boy, and enjoy the library. Pick out any other titles you might like to borrow."

  As Marcus left the kitchen Robert turned to Willy and remarked, "How did you choose this young man, William?"

  "He found me downtown in The Gaslight area. I recognized him from my lectures at the University. Since then I've verified where he's staying. Now that you have his full name you can conduct a background check if you like."

  "I may do that," Robert responded. "For now, let's see if we can get your young man on the hook. We can always throw him back in the water if a background check turns up anything nefarious. You may want to continue recruiting, William, in case this one doesn't pan out." "Will do," Willy replied, "but I have a hunch that Marcus is our guy. Besides, I've taken a shine to the young man."

  The library was a large reading room with comfortable seating and bright but subdued lighting. The tall bookshelves lining the West and South walls held some 1750 books. Bewildered, Marcus moved to the shelves, scanning the many titles neatly organized by author. He found the books by Stiles and Weiss. Placing them under his arm, he stood back to admire the professor's collection. He spotted titles by a few authors he recognized and many more he did not.

  A separate shelving unit on the East wall was packed with books and periodicals on Jesse James and Cole Younger. Framed photos of Jesse and Frank James were displayed prominently over an ornate table next to the shelving. "This guy's obsessed with the James Gang," he said to himself.

  One lone book that stood out was displayed in a locked glass and wooden case on a sturdy pedestal in the corner of the room. The title, A Wink from the Universe, by Jamison Tolliver, stared back at him. Maybe it's an autographed copy or a first edition, he thought.

  An adjoining unit was crammed with titles from the Theosophical Society. Authors such as Madame Blavatsky, C. W. Leadbeater, and Annie Besant stared back at him. The lower shelves held myriad titles by the Rosicrucians and The Freemasons. The North wall was covered with floor to ceiling shelving containing titles by something or someone called The Mandela.

  "What a crock," Marcus muttered to himself as he left the room.

  Joining Willy and Robert back in the kitchen, Marcus took a seat at the kitchen table opposite Robert. "Your library is interesting, Robert," he said with a smirk. "Thanks," he replied. "I'm considering turning the dining room into an extension of the library. I rarely use it these days, and it would be nice to have my living room back again."

  "Ah, I see you found the books by Stiles and Weiss. Bring them with you on your upcoming travels and study them as you have time." "May I see the books for a moment, Marcus?" Willy said.

  "I have no upcoming travel plans, Robert, but thanks for the loan of the books," Marcus replied, handing them to Willy. "Yes, well it's your travel plans we're here to discuss, my boy. You see, I'm getting on in years and arduous travel, such as may be required, is sadly beyond my capabilities. To that end, William has been searching for a suitable young man to take a journey for me and report back. And here you are!”

  “Have you heard the old saying you can't take it with you, Marcus?" Robert asked.

  "Sure but . . . "

  "And do you believe in the theory of reincarnation?" "Never thought much about it one way or the other," Marcus replied. "No matter you needn't believe in the concept to accomplish our task, but a bit of background information is necessary. You see, I've spent the last 20 years in the study and practice of what is called past life regression. William put some coffee on while I tell young Marcus about my research."

  "I initially became interested in past life regression after reading the studies of Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross regarding near-death experiences. She reported that her research with dying patients and those who were temporarily dead, but brought back by modern medical technology, supports the belief that human consciousness persists beyond the state we call physical death. I was so intrigued by this that I studied every book and text I could find on near-death experiences."

  "I began to see a correlation between the NDE and past life regression. I started to use hypnosis as an aid to the conventional psychotherapy I offered my patients. From there I entered a formal program on past life regression therapy. Using this technique, the results I have achieved with a number of patients are truly astounding."

  "How so?" Marcus asked.

  "Some of my initial attempts to regress a patient back to a prior life were far from rewarding. Making sense of the imagery my subjects see is also a tricky matter.” “By persevering with the technique I've delved into an abundance of material reaching back through recorded history."

  "As just one example, a patient experienced a succession of fascinating male and female lives in which he was a Jewish merchant in revolt-torn Judea just after the birth of Christ and a mother of three children in Rome around eighty-five AD. Others have included a craftsman in Egypt in 3300 B.C.; a French noblewoman in the early fifteenth century; a woman with a mentally retarded child living in Madrid in 1643, and a fighter pilot stationed on Midway Island in 1948."

  "Occasionally a patient will experience a scene of their death in a prior life. I've tried on several occasions to regress them back further to the life between lives but have been unsuccessful to date."

  "I don't buy it, Robert." Marcus protested with a shrug. "Excuse me for being skeptical but this all sounds like new age nonsense to me." "That's alright son. As I mentioned, you needn't believe in any of this to be of help to me. What is it that puzzles you most about my practice?"

  "For one thing, do you claim that your patient sees a past life in their mind? I mean, are they right there experiencing it or just imagining it?" "Some patients observe from a distance what's happening and some view the scene from the body of the person they were in a past life. Many subjects can feel the body of the person they were in a past life. Not all but many. They can see and observe what is going on around them. At times, they can even smell certain facets of their environment. At the same time, they are listening to me and answering my questions."

  "Do these subjects of yours also experience or see their death in one of their past lives?" Marcus asked; his brow furrowed. "Yes, if I take them back that far an
d if they have expressed a desire to do so. An interesting sidebar I've discovered is that sometimes people get stuck after they die. They seem to be completely unaware of their circumstances and have no idea that they are dead. They wouldn't or couldn't realize that they were no longer physical."

  "Really?" Marcus asked. "What happens to them then?" "Apparently nothing," Robert responded. "They experience nothing at all." “Nothing?” Marcus asked. “They experience nothing for all of eternity?” “I don’t know the answer to that of course,” Robert responded. “But I can say that it is like falling asleep. Apparently to experience something else all they have to do is to simply wake up to their new surroundings.”

  "How do you like your coffee, Marcus?" Willy interrupted, removing the steaming pot from the stove. "Cream only," Marcus responded. "Grab some biscuits while you're at it, William," Robert said. "We'll have a light snack and continue our discussion on the terrace. Come on, Marcus, give me a push and we'll catch some sun before it sets."

  The terrace was a series of horizontal, wide wooden ridges, adjoining the sunroom, extending twenty feet from the West end of the house. "Beautiful," Marcus said as he took in the view overlooking the Pacific. "Is that a private beach, Robert?"

  "No, it's open to all. I still wheel down to the boardwalk now and again during the summer months." "Grab some coffee gentlemen," Willy said, setting down the coffee and biscuits on a round glass table.

  "I've had more than my fair share of adventures, Marcus," Robert said. "It's time to turn my escapades over to a younger man. That is if you're interested in all this, my boy." "Possibly," Marcus replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just puzzled how I fit in."

  "Fair enough," Robert responded pouring hot coffee into a mug. "Please have a seat and hear me out. I've made quite a study, these past years, of the James/Younger gang. Read every book and magazine I could get my hands on. I visited the rural home of Frank and Jesse in Missouri. I've searched old archives and libraries for data on the James Gang. I even visited Northfield, Minnesota and retraced the escape route the gang took after failing to rob the bank there."

  "I'm particularly fascinated by the assassination of Jesse by Bob Ford. Or I should say the supposed death of Jesse at the hands of Ford. Sufficient evidence exists suggesting that Jesse faked his death and lived a long life as J. Frank Dalton. Dalton died in 1951 at the ripe old age of 103 and was buried in Granbury, Texas."

  "Many theorists say that the man Ford killed was not Jesse. They claim that another man was killed in order for Jesse to escape the law. They believe the real murder victim was Charles Bigelow, an undercover Pinkerton detective who was posing as Jesse and committing robberies thus incurring the wrath and vengeance of the real Jesse James."

  "Call me an old crank if you will but I'm determined to discover which scenario is correct." "And I fit into this picture how?" Marcus asked again.

  "To cut to the chase, Marcus, through my practice, I'm familiar with a young lady who appears to have been Frank James in a prior life. Her name is Virginia McCracken. I need you to travel to her and convince her to return with you to La Jolla. Interested?"

  "Come on Robert, a woman who was Frank James in a previous life?" "Yes, Jesse James' brother Frank. If anyone knows when and how Jesse died it would be Frank."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Namaste: Virginia McCracken? Am I to guess who this woman is?

  Sumantra: We have both known her in past lives Namaste. Quite well, in fact. The three of us have known each other and shared in numerous escapades and adventures. You two have shared many an amorous experience together as well.

  Namaste: And you claim that I was this Marcus Reno in a prior life.

  Sumantra: That's correct.

  N. How did I die?

  S. In a fight, my friend.

  N. A fight? Marcus doesn't appear to be a brawler or a fighter.

  S. Yes, well the fight was a rather one-sided affair I'm afraid.

  N. But I still feel very much alive!

  S. Yes, you are learning that death does not exist. What you call death is simply a change of form. You are still very much alive but without a physical body. You never die Namaste! You merely change form.

  N. Where am I now? Tell me again!

  S. You are currently in a rest area of sorts. A meeting place between systems. A Waymeet. A void where nothing exists but all existence is possible. When you are ready, you will move through the next passageway.

  N. This is what happens upon death?

  S. As you will discover Namaste, death is very much an individual affair. There are general things a soul will experience entering the afterlife, however, what you experience immediately after death is what you expect to experience. In your case, that of Marcus Reno that is, you did not believe in an afterlife so therefore you are not experiencing one.

  N. So until you came along I was experiencing nothing?

  S. Correct. If one dies believing that there is no life after death, they will initially experience nothing at all. Activities will be ongoing, but they will not be able to perceive them. Once a soul starts to feel a bit overwhelmed and wishes for some help a guide will appear as I did.

  N. So I’m stuck because I didn’t believe in an afterlife?

  S. I wouldn’t call it stuck but for the time being yes. That is why I am here.

  N. How are we communicating? We don't seem to be talking. Your thoughts are somehow just appearing to me.

  S. We are communicating telepathically my friend. Upon death, without a physical body the means of communication is telepathic. There is no seeing, hearing or touching. There is only perception.

  N. And what of Marcus Reno? What happened to my personality if I truly was this person?

  S. Your personality and your memories continue after physical death. But your last life as Marcus Reno is only part of your entire identity.

  N. But I don't remember a life as this Marcus person!

  S. You will Namaste. You will. You shall remember all that and more.

  N. When? Am I to remain in this empty void forever Sumantra?

  S. Not at all my friend. Not at all. You simply have to wake up. That is why I am here. To help you remember some things you seem to have forgotten. To help you remember who you really are.

  N. And what of Marcus . . . . I mean me. What happens to him?

  S. Focus once again on the mural, my friend, and we will see.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  "Let me explain," Robert continued. "Virginia came to my office some years back for help with her anxiety and panic attacks. During one of our regular sessions, something very odd began to occur while she was under deep hypnosis. I was regressing Virginia and asked her to recall memories of progressively earlier ages. My goal was to uncover the reasons behind her ongoing anxiety."

  "When I asked her to go back to the time when her symptoms first arose she said her name was Caroline and that she was nine years old. She went on to describe a scene in which her father and mother were killed by Pawnee Indians during a raid on their home. She and her sister were captured by a warrior, thrown over his horses' neck and carried back to their camp where they were both raped and murdered."

  "In subsequent sessions Virginia recalled past lives as an accused witch in Massachusetts in 1694, a priest in Britain in the late 1700's and a prostitute in San Francisco in 1890. During her last sessions with me she described, in remarkable detail, portions of her life as Jesse James' brother Frank."

  "Let me play a part of a tape from one of these sessions so you can hear her voice for yourself," Robert continued, reaching into his pocket for a digital recorder. "I hypnotized Virginia to a deep trance state. The voice you hear will be hers."

  "I am playing with my wooden guns down by a dry creek that runs by our house. I am a boy . . . . My hair is black…. There is a swing on a tree and rotten apples on the ground. The land is flat and dry.”

  "My Mother is calling me. My name must be Frank, I guess. She keeps shoutin
g for Frank to come in for supper. It's sweltering outside. I am hoping it is cooler in the house."

  "Can you go inside and see who else is there?"

  "My Mother is angry with me for not completing my chores earlier in the day. She says that I must do double the work tomorrow."

  "What do you see inside the house?"

  "I see a long gun or rifle of some kind leaning by a fireplace. A square wooden table on three legs is by the fireplace. A stack of firewood holds up the fourth leg. Supper is on the table. Some rabbit stew with greens and potatoes. My Mother, brother and sister, are at the table."

  "What are their names?"

  "I am not sure of my Mother's name . . . . Something like Zelda. My brother's name is Jesse. My sister's name is Susan."

  "Jesse? Are you sure?"

  "That is what my Mother calls him. I do not know our last name."

  "Can you tell what year it is?"

  "No, I do not know how to."

  "Is it a big modern house?"

  "No. It is rather small. We do not have electricity. There is a hand pump for water in the kitchen and an outhouse in the back yard."

  "Does anyone at the table mention the name of the town you live in or the State?"

  "We are somewhere in Missouri. I hear my Mother complaining about the hot sticky weather in Missouri."

  "What is important now? Go to something that is important in the family now."

  "My Mother is being remarried soon. She talks about how our life will improve as she is marrying a wealthy farmer."

  "What happened to your Father? Is he still living?"

  "My Father went to California. He never returned."

  “What is your Mother saying now?”

  “Nothing, the scene is fading.”

  "I am taking you further ahead in time now. Go to the weeks preceding your death."

  "I am old and ill. I am in the same house where I grew up. I am alone here now. The house looks the same. There is a sign attached to a post outside which reads. Home of the James—Jesse and Frank James—Admission 50 cents each person.”