Whiteman, J H M gets a real ticking off
Type of Spiritual Experience
By the 1950s Whiteman's ego and odd reading choice appeared to have got the better of him and he appears to have believed he was a mystic of some importance.
He received huge numbers of perception recalls but appears to have never recognised them for what they were. His out of body experiences were also uncontrolled and at times dangerous as he seemed to have a habit of possessing women without realising he had done so.
The spirit world persisted I think, because he was documenting his experiences, as such the experiences would be available for someone else a little more detached and able to see what was happening at a later time.
But, simply put, despite his belief to the contrary, he never really moved on. And just once [possibly more than once but these occasions are not documented] the spirit world got annoyed with him and tried to give him a real ticking off - but he didn't understand this either.
The 'juice' is blood - they were saying you are wasting spirit input, throwing away glass after glass that we have given you. Old means wisdom and they are feminine because it is the feminine that applies this level of really severe lesson.
The party dress was to show him this sort of experience was by invitation and was an invitation of love [pink] and a privelege. He had ruined the party.
His left hand is the hand of spiritual experience - left hand right brain. They are telling him that his actions are destroying it - burning it it away. He is destroying the gift given him.
A description of the experience
The Mystical Life – J H M Whiteman
(February 12,1950) After a rather long dream-beginning, the scene changed …. I found myself then just inside the door of a fairly large room, as in a hotel, where there was some gathering of elderly ladies seated at numerous small tables. I came properly into the room and noticed that at many of the tables there were glasses of a red liquid, possibly tomato juice. Moving about the room, between the tables, I found a table for two, against the wall, where only one lady, looking about the age of 70, was seated.
I sat down opposite her and smiled at her, hoping she would be friendly. But she looked rather discontent ..... All at once she took up her glass, leaned over, and poured the contents on to my lap as I was sitting partly sideways at the table. Looking down, I saw the beautiful full skirt of the pink party-dress I was wearing marked with a horrid mess like tomato pieces and juice. The material looked a little like organdie, but it was soft and warm to the touch; there must also have been two or three underskirts, to judge from the feel and general appearance.
I cleaned off the mess with something like a paper serviette (which somehow I found to hand) so that only a damp patch could be seen, feeling sad that the beautiful material had been marked. At this point ….. I saw what appeared to be my left hand and forearm resting on the skirt and made to appear disproportionately swollen and red as if through having been held in hot water. The resulting distress caused me to return.