By Dotti Enderle
August 1, 2000
I've always been interested in various religions, and different points of view on the afterlife. I considered the words of divine masters, and spent a good deal of my early years contemplating the meaning of life. The most I could ascertain was that I was terribly confused about where we go when we die.
In February 1982, I attended a feminist gathering - a celebration of the beauty of womanhood. There were various workshops and uplifting speakers on hand, but one workshop in particular left an impression on me that will last my entire life. The workshop was on how trauma in early childhood affects us as adults. Using hypnosis, the presenter's goal was to help us deal with important emotional matters. I volunteered to go first, and what I gave them in a hypnotic state was much more than they bargained for.
The presenter's voice was soft and calm. The room, dark and shadowed. Though several women were present, the room was dead quiet. I had no trouble drifting into an alpha state of mind. As I regressed, I began to spin. Swirling around inside my body, I lost all feeling and felt a sensation of floating. The Presenter talked, but I have no recall of what she said until I heard, "Now, you have reached a significant point. Tell us what you see."
I described my surroundings. I was in a place that resembled Egypt, but wasn't. I was barefoot with sand-covered feet. Twin temples towered the city, and I talked in length about strange death rituals and pagan gatherings. In about a 20-minute period, I described an ancient place having no idea of its name. I wanted to tell them my name, but I couldn't pronounce it in my relaxed state. And when I described a chant to a sacred god, that's when I was asked "his" name. I stuttered at first, because I was trying to listen to the chant being repeated over and over in my head. But the name quickly escaped my tongue, "Dagan." The presenter, satisfied that I had received enough information, slowly brought me back to the spinning sensation and into the room with my weekend sisters.
I awoke from my relaxed state to see a gathering of women with gaping mouths and wide eyes, and still, you could hear a pin drop. Some of the ladies told me later that there was an ancient god named Dagan, but I had never heard of him.
About three weeks later, while visiting an area bookstore, I happened upon a dictionary of mythological gods. I just happened to open the book to the D's, and the name Dagan hit me in the face. The description - Chief god of the Philistines in ancient Mesopotamia, around the 12th century b.c.
I froze. The name, the time, and the place all matched the descriptions of my journey to the hidden realms of my mind. And I can honestly attest, until that day, I had never consciously heard the name Dagan.
So the question arose in my thoughts, does reincarnation really exist? I still don't have the answer. But the deeper question why is this significant in my life?
Copyright Dotti Enderle
About the author: Dotti Enderle is a writer, professional storyteller, and native Texan. Her children's stories have appeared in LADYBUG, BABYBUG, OUR LITTLE FRIEND, HOLIDAYS & SEASONAL CELEBRATIONS, AND LOLLIPOPS. She lives with her husband, two daughters, and a lazy cat named Oliver.
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