Where Pharaohs Dwell:
One Mystic’s Journey Through the Gates of Immortality
About the Book
In
this thought-provoking book, Patricia Cori takes time from her
channeled work as the Scribe to the Speakers of the Sirian High Council
to focus on her past-life experiences in ancient Egypt. The book begins
dramatically with the traumatic recall of a past Egyptian life, when
Cori relives a horrifying death by suffocation—from being buried alive.
This experience propels her on a journey of exploration into the
question of human immortality, leading her back to Egypt, again and
again, where she unravels the origins of the ancient Egyptians’
obsession with the resurrection of the soul.
Cori’s
discoveries reveal new perspectives on Egyptian mysteries, new
timelines as to the beginnings of the civilization, and controversial
ideas that link the earliest Egyptian cultures with even earlier
civilizations, such as that of Atlantis. As she returns to sites of her
former lives, Cori begins to receive messages through which she relives
the past-life regression, guiding her to discover secrets of the
ancient Egyptians. Finally, she travels beyond the veil of illusions
into the “otherworld” of possibilities that lies beyond physical
existence. This exciting book weaves strands of science, history, and
metaphysics into a shimmering tapestry of personal discovery.
North Atlantic Books/Random House
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Excerpts
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Back
in 1990, well before I had ever read anything significant about Egypt
and having never visited there, I went to a respected past-life
regressionist for my very first experience in this now popular form of
psychic self-exploration
A fully credentialed, practicing
psychologist, he came highly recommended to me by a dear friend, who
had released the torment of some inner demons under his care. She was
so enthralled with her experiences that she convinced me to book myself
an appointment and an airline ticket to Boston to see for myself. Six
months later, I went to see him – more out of curiosity, I told myself,
than a need for healing.
Then again, I do believe that our
desire to ‘know’ about our past incarnations is driven by our need, as,
in the final outcome, it is the soul’s purpose to banish the darkness
of repressed memories so that we can hasten our way along the path to
illumination and just live happier, fuller lives.
My first
impression validated my friend’s endorsement of this powerful healer
and I had no difficulty whatsoever letting go of any anxiety or
expectation I had held about him or the session upon which I was about
to embark. After very few preliminaries, I felt calm, relaxed and ready
to be guided to whatever was there for me … buried perhaps, in the deep
well of the subconscious, awaiting discovery.
Mesmerized by
his hypnotic voice, I quickly let go of the distractions of the
chattering mind, noticing how dogs barking outside his studio and the
background noise of a telephone in the next room slowly began to fade
out of my conscious awareness … and how wonderfully relaxed I felt:
sinking into his over-stuffed reclining chair; finally letting go to
another healer.
I was able to follow his suggestions without
distraction, while drifting along the currents of his voice, at peace
with the world – the riotous voice of resistance slowly giving way to
the theta waves of quieted mind.
As he guided me to imagine
myself outside of my body, floating in sacred space, I instantly saw
before me an eye – a beautiful blue eye: the color of purest turquoise,
but translucent – like the purest waters of the Caribbean sea. He asked
me to identify it: was this the eye of a human being I was looking at,
or did it represent some other life form? No, I saw so clearly that it
was a symbol, something like a richly glazed ceramic effigy of an eye –
definitely not human.
Later, I would realize that I had been staring into the all-seeing ‘Eye
of Horus’ of Egyptian lore.
The eye disappeared shortly after it had appeared in my vision and I
found myself catapulted into a hologram of spinning wheels – appearing
first as cogs of some great machine, and then morphing into spirals of
brilliantly luminous galaxies.
For a fleeting moment, I
hovered somewhere far beyond, in deep space, bathed in the twinkling
light of so many stars. I was light – pure starlight – and the stars
that surrounded me were conscious, living beings. Celestial music
flowed through all that existed, reflecting the light of every star in
the heavens and all was perfectly, magnificently ‘One’.
All
was resplendent in spirit and love and I was filled with a sense of
total connection to all that exists. It was truly a moment of
enlightenment, in every sense.
I abandoned myself to the
awe-filled experience only to find myself immediately sucked into the
center of some sort of whirlpool, spinning around and around and
becoming more and more dizzy until I shouted out that I was going to be
sick if I didn’t get free of it and back out into free space.
From the bliss of communing with the stars, I was thrown into a state
of disorientation and fear. Nausea rising in my throat, I felt as if I
were clinging on to nowhere and nothing – spinning out of control. I
called out desperately for help. The therapist finally guided me to
slow the whirling vortex and to direct my mind to where I would find
myself when it came to a full stop.
To my amazement, the spinning ceased, almost as immediately
as it had begun.The celestial canopy was gone.
Now I was looking at the entrance to a mine – a mineshaft. The outside
was formed of roughly hewn rock and plain wooden bars framed the
opening. The regressionist pressed me to describe every thing within my
field of vision, but there wasn’t much else there that I could make out
with any detail. I was uncomfortably alone—somewhere—in a remote desert
scene: I could feel the sun burning down on my skin; I could hear the
wind blowing across the sand. My feet felt like they were on fire. All
that I could see clearly, however, was the opening of this eerie
mineshaft. He guided me to move in closer, so that I could get a look
inside the space, but I told him I couldn’t … I didn’t want to … I
wasn’t able to move any closer, as if I were emotionally and physically
paralyzed. I could only look from my vantage point, a safe distance
away, and all I saw beyond the opening was absolute darkness.
Then,
suddenly, the image mutated into one that appeared to be an entrance to
a tomb, with some form of Egyptian-looking hieroglyphs carved onto
smooth, white limestone walls. There was the eye again (the blue eye I
had seen while floating God knows where), staring back at me.
I gazed upon the mind screen of my visions, trying to get a clearer
impression of what was there … what I was really seeing. Yes, it was a
tomb – clearly Egyptian. There was a rather oddly adorned, masked male
figure (was it a guard?) wearing an ornate crown, standing to the left
side of the entrance. He held a long wooden rod, rigidly, out to his
side, as if guarding the entrance – and here again, all I could see of
the inside, beyond him, was darkness.
Again, the therapist directed
me to go into the space to observe what it was that my subconscious
mind had brought me to see. I could feel the fear moving up through my
legs and into my upper body – instant paralysis. I refused to approach
the space in any way and I had no desire, I told him, to look inside.
In what felt like an eternity, the images shifted back and forth: the
mineshaft, the tomb entrance – the shaft, the tomb, the shaft again.
There was a growing sense of foreboding and discomfort and I wanted to
leave this scene, but I couldn’t face a return to the spinning wheels
and somehow I knew that they were my only way out.
It was
then that I felt someone pushing me from behind. Let me be clear about
this – I felt someone physically pushing me, as if from behind the
chair, and I wanted to turn around and look to see who was there, but I
couldn't turn or open my eyes. In that moment, I realized I truly had
achieved some unknown form of altered consciousness, uncharted space,
whereby I was just as aware of being in the state as I was of being in
the body. As I contemplated this bizarre state of bi-location, I became
frightfully aware that someone or something was trying to push me into
this dark void. Was it a mineshaft? Was it a tomb? I couldn’t make it
out! As the pressure increased, I felt threatened and I adamantly
refused to be pushed into the entrance. I became more agitated,
realizing I was being forced into what was definitively the opening of
a tomb and I was horrified to see that this was, in fact, my tomb.
I got a close-up of the guard and realized without a doubt that he was
the depiction of an Egyptian god, although I had no idea which one. The
regressionist told me to ask him who he was and what he wanted to
communicate to me, but I knew I could not. I could not ask –
he
could not answer. Of this, I was certain.
He remained expressionless, like a statue: lifeless. We never
made eye contact.
The
therapist asked me if I had a name: I stumbled over the pronunciation
of the name: “Hat..et … Hatshet … Hatetsesheti.” Yes, that was the
name: Hatetsesheti. He kept asking me who was trying to push me through
the entranceway, but although I could still hear him, his voice began
fading further and further into the distance until finally I realized I
wasn’t listening to him anymore. Or was it that I had gone so deep and
so distant that I simply couldn’t hear him?
Filled with despair, I
began calling out the word “Maatara … Maatara … Maatara.” I
kept
crying out until my voice was almost silenced and still then again, in
not much more than a whisper: "Maatara."
The crashing sound of
a great door closing echoed grimly through my mind and I found myself
in total darkness – panicking. Voiceless, I screamed out in desperation
to be saved. I remember screaming to get out, beating my fists on the
door until all I could feel was the hot, sticky sensation of my own
blood running over my pulse and trickling down onto my arms.
The
distant voice of the regressionist still penetrated this dark space,
but it was muffled … almost imperceptible. I was trapped somewhere so
deep within my mind that he could barely reach me. He was telling me
there was something there that I had come to see and that it was safe
to look, guiding me to observe myself in the space and to examine
everything around me.
Safe? I was anything but safe in this prison of death. There was only
the black terror of the darkest destiny.
The despair and panic were overtaken by a sense of abandonment and
immense sorrow … then slow resignation. I began to hyperventilate,
barely managing to breathe.
As the sense of suffocation overcame me,
the therapist, concerned that the manifestation of these clearly
overwhelming emotions was actually endangering me, both mentally and
physically, had no recourse but to guide me away from the distressing
scene. He finally directed me out of the trauma of the regression and
back to the safety of ‘home’.
When I fully returned from this
intense and deeply disturbing state of altered awareness, I knew,
without a question of a doubt, that I had died buried alive in a tomb
somewhere, at some very distant place and time, in the ancient lands of
Egypt.
Ironically, there, in the
terrifying darkness of my ancient Egyptian tomb – at my death – is
where my story begins…
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Reviews
____________________________________
Sealed in a tomb and left to
die.
Would you still remember that experience thousands of years later?
Patricia
Cori does. She travels to the dusty Egypt of today in search of its
golden past—and a more personal revelation. Cori uncovers the mystery
of her own past life and heals an ancient betrayal. Where Pharaohs
Dwell weaves crystal-clear spiritual teachings with amazing personal
experiences in this page-turning adventure.
Theresa
Crater, author of Under the Stone Paw & Beneath the Hallowed
Hill
Patricia
Cori has written a fascinating and interesting book as part of her
contribution to this grand human experience now unfolding. Drawing on
her own powerful experiences and strong intuitions with an easy flowing
literary style, she presents a real page-turner that one will not want
to put down once started. Patricia takes the reader on her personal and
unique journey to reclaim a “part” of herself—that being her profound
connection to “dynastic” and prehistoric Khemit, the Mother of
Civilizations.
Stephen
Mehler, author of Land of Osiris & From Light into Dark
Patricia Cori is THE real-life Indiana Jones! The film version of this
incredible book is sure to follow...
Patty Greer,
Award-winning film maker, producer of 2012? We’re Already in it!
Be one of the first to read it!
Available Now!
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