REMOTE VIEWING

PJ's Personal Archives

www.firedocs.com/remoteviewing/pjarchives/



Nestor, the "Psychic Surgeon"

September 1997

I was down in Los Angeles in a class Buchanan was running on Remote Viewing, and we were having dinner. One of the women there was unusually beautiful.  I don't remember names worth a damn and have forgotten hers, but she was memorable. She had very 'aligned energy' is the only way I can put it.  She was one of those people it feels good just to be near for some reason. She must have been 60 or more but she was flawless (cosmetic surgery, I assume).

She kept bringing up all these interesting topics at dinner. What a life she'd had!  At one point she mentioned having gone to this "Philippino Psychic Surgeon" about a year prior. I was thinking something along the lines of 'shaman, robes and curtains and so forth'. But she said he was really normal.  Said she'd had some kind of back problem for years, and he had reached all the way THROUGH her stomach, I mean hands in the guts and all, and to her spine. Said she'd been fine ever since.

She didn't seem like she was exaggerating, but this is technically impossible. She said she looked down and there was blood all over the place. I didn't believe it. I figured the blood was a hoax of some kind, you know, tubes to the fingers or some such.  Problem was, my brief exposure to her was such that I didn't believe she would lie.  Had it been almost anything else in the world coming from her I'd have never questioned it.

She said at one point she and the fellow were talking about the Phillippines and he said she should visit sometime. She said she had the briefest flash of the admittedly-arrogant notion that it was some third-world type slum, and before she could even open her mouth he reacted, saying, "No, no, it's not like that where I am..." and she was embarrassed, as she felt it was obvious he had responded to her thoughts... it would have seemed stupid to try and argue.

I couldn't help myself... I was intrigued.  I wondered, was it a hypnotic kind of thing? Was it a highly ritualistic kind of thing?  What could actually happen to a person that they would believe, as she did, that someone had put their physical hands INTO someone else's physical body - without hurting them?  And even doing the impossible in healing them? I had read about some martial artists being able to put their fingers "through" solid things (bodies, objects, etc.).  I wondered if this was that kind of thing.

This was definitely something I had to check out.

She gave me a phone# she had related to him. I was interested in maybe watching him do something, so I could write my buddies about it, who I knew would also be interested. The number led to a couple others, and finally to some woman who was apparently doing scheduling for him. It turned out, he was going to be briefly back in town again. He spends most his time home or in Japan, and some in Australia, so it was a rare opportunity to get to meet him during the brief period I was down around Santa Monica.

The woman on the telephone told me he was asking $60 per session but said if I didn't have the money to show up anyway. I didn't have any money at all, actually, and wondered what I could offer him as trade.  That night at dinner (my birthday) Rene (quite the happening producer in Hollywierd these days apparently!) gave me $60 in a card. What an interesting coincidence. So later I called the woman and made an appointment. My friend M. made an appointment for the morning. His name is "Nestor." My appt. was for late afternoon.

I was rather surprised.  I don't know where I expected it to be....  I thought perhaps in somebody's house.  It was in a corner business in a small building (also on the corner) in town.  The corner business had a small waiting room, a tiny bathroom, and a very small room off that.  It appeared to be a bodyworker's room of some kind.  There was a table, the professional chiro/massage sorts you can put your face down into.  There was a counter along one wall.  Not counting the counter space, the room was perhaps 9' long by 7' wide -- very tiny!  The very thin, elevated padded table took up most all the room.

The woman taking appointments was something else.  In my life I have never met anybody who so clearly gave me the impression of "mutant."  I know this sounds cruel, but I am not talking about her looks or her manner.  Her "energy" was very strong and very, very weird.  I had never encountered such a thing before.  She made me want to get away, frankly.  Now I had been a psychic brick for a couple of years, and something intangible like "energy" would almost have to fall on me and injure me to get my attention, yet even I was struck by it.

I was reminded of this funny story Crowley once wrote about a magickal ritual with a frog to find a housekeeper, and how this woman who looked just like a frog showed up at his door a day or so later -- and he knew right away why she was there. I never really believed that story until I saw this woman!  With her, something like that didn't seem impossible at all.   I was uncomfortable being in the same room with her. It wasn't really anything bad, mind you. Just something that seemed... very weird.  Distorted in some way.  It made me pretty nervous about what this fellow was going to be like. 

My friend M. told me on the drive down that she had three fibroid tumors she'd recently found out about. She is a healer herself (a Reiki-sort) so that surprised me, and upset me for my friend. But as it turned out she didn't get a chance to talk to him about anything.

We were called into the the tiny room. There was a sheet over the top of the table, hanging several inches over the sides. I surreptitiously leaned and glanced under the table to see if I could see anything. You know, like containers for blood.... whatever. Didn't see anything though. I could see him clearly just under it.

Interesting, since the woman in front had put me in the 'wierd vibe' mode, but Nestor struck me right off as a solid, decent guy.  No weird stuff at all. He was kind of small -- his race is most of that.  He was dressed in dockers and a short sleeve, light colored shirt. Short hair.  Nothing ornamental or religious whatever. He looked perfectly normal, and I searched his hands and pockets carefully for tubes for blood or something unusual; I couldn't see where he could hide much of anything frankly!  He could as easily have been an accountant or a retailer as something cosmic like a "psychic surgeon".

I couldn't figure out what he was doing with the mutant in the front office. One of the (normal) women in front had told me that his father, Jun, is said to be the best in the world at this kind of work, and that they are both flown around the world constantly at the behest of clients.  I suppose he's well wary of the AMA and such and probably gets scheduling help where he can.  Or perhaps the mutant-energy woman was actually some kind of shield, in some shamanic way. 

When we walked in the tiny room, he motioned to M. silently and she began taking her clothes off (except bra and underwear).  She climbed up and laid on her back on the table. I asked him if I could stay and watch. He stopped and looked at me carefully for about 3 full seconds silently, and then said quietly, "Sure."


So M. is lying there. He says hello to her quietly, and picks up a few small white handtowels (like those tiny hotel handtowels) from a stack folded neatly on the little counter next to the sink. He tucks them beside her (I watched him carefully -- could see nothing hidden in them), and tucks one into her underwear and one under her bra. I was trying to figure out why.

I was standing on the other side of this skinny bodyworker table. I could not have been closer to him and his hands unless I were standing on top of him. So I had a perfect view; her torso was only inches farther away from my eyes than my own. He slowly passed his hands over her torso for about 5-10 seconds. I looked at his face carefully, waiting for some kind of ritual or whatever. But he looked like he was concentrating.  Nothing cosmic.

I was secretly amused then, thinking about having learned Transcendental Meditation years before. After all the crap about it "not being a religion," and the obvious cult lead-in to training, my trainer promptly started chanting in another language, swaying back and forth in front of the shrine, throwing rose petals over his shoulder and then "waited for god" to tell him the "secret mantra" that was "just for me." (Turns out there are only four.  But hey, that spoils the mystery.) So I was amused because here I'd expected that to be SO straightforward and it turned out to be this big religious schtick (not to knock the value of the practice of course), whereas I figured Nestor would wear robes, have curtains, all kinds of things for hiding and props, probably do some big religious type ritual -- and here he was, the most normal, clean-cut looking guy I'd ever seen, acting like he was doing a simple math problem.

He flexes his fingers (bending them, kind of like when you're typing) over one spot a few times, and then he just reached INTO her body with both hands. Right up to where his fingers joined the hand. Right through the skin. Dark thick blood welled up and started coming out slowly around where his fingers were, as he looked at the spot intensely and shook his hands around in there some. It made a SLOSHING noise. A unique and sort of horrible noise that it's hard to imagine anything other than a bunch of guts stored in blood making.

I thought I might faint. I thought I might throw up. I was definitely in shock. I realized after a couple of moments that my mouth was open and my eyes were wide, but my body was very still and my breathing very, very shallow.

Now being okay with this intellectually is one thing; accepting it into your reality is another. I didn't really believe this would happen.  I did consider it, but I had been certain that on the incredibly unlikely chance it really did, I could objectively watch it, like "Hey wow, cool!"

I never expected to be so profoundly affected myself.

Meanwhile M had begun grimacing like she was in pain. The people in front had all said it didn't hurt at all, so I was confused. I was thinking, geez, should I rescue her?! Pick her up like some movie hero and run from the room with her? !

I wasn't sure I could even move.

And I didn't really sense anything bad going on; I was just really freaked out.

It wasn't just a matter of the thick dark gut-blood. Or him putting his hands INTO her.  Or the sloshing sound. I mean I was watching, my eyes were what, two feet above his hands -- it's like the skin just opened up where his hand was.  But only there!

He kept his hands deep inside her, shaking them slightly, and did this for about 30 seconds.

Then he used his right hand to "hold the skin open a bit" while he points his left hand inward, fingers together straight out, he rolls his hand up like a fist and then straightens out his fingers, pointed inside her, for about 2 second intervals. I was watching M. and she had her head back and turned, her face screwed up with pain, her eyes closed. Every time he would unroll his fingers and point inside her, she would grimace more intensely and tense up a little until he rolled up his fingers again. It was clear that whatever he was doing, she could really feel it, though I'm sure she couldn't see him, and I thought the coincidence of this repetition, this perfect timing of her response to his barely-motion of fingers-only that weren't even touching her, interesting.

I was trying desperately to intellectualize, to become the objective observer.

He turns around to a silver metal mixing bowl behind him that is filled with water. He rinses off his hands quickly and grabs a little white towel. He mops up the blood on her torso with it carefully, and then passes his hands over that area again.

I stood there looking at her torso. There was not a mark on her.

I looked again at him, his hands, his wrists and fingers, his pants, trying to find some evidence of where he could get this blood from.  How could she bleed if her skin was seamless?  Could it really be possible that he had done just what it looked like -- put his hands through her skin??

He folded the towel neatly and put it into the water bowl. Then he turned back to her, and went through the same process on her again, except in a different place.  He plunged in deeply, and did the pointy-fingers thing while she grimaced in pain. He did this in three places total.

Meanwhile, M. did not seem to be enjoying it at all.  She was clearly in pain every time he reached inside her, and in twice as much pain when he was barely touching her but was pointing his fingers into her, something that was obvious but seemed less understandable. Finally, after the last time he had plunged his hand deeply into her and mopped her up, he took all the towels off her, and folding each one placed it in the water bowl.

Then he passed his hands over her body, a sort of stroking in the air motion to some degree. He did this all over her, particularly at the crown of her head. He looked down at her, she looked up at him, and he made a little motion with his hand. She turned over onto her stomach. He did the hand-passes some more. He stopped a few times and put both his palms down on her back, right around where he had been working on the front. And then he was done.

The whole thing took about 9-10 minutes. He said nothing during it, nor did she.

I had quite literally not moved a muscle the entire time. I was like a shocked statue.  I had the unique feeling, during this, that my belief system was somehow a physical thing and it had simply cracked.

M. put her dress on as he picked up the bowl with towels and went into the bathroom (the room next door). I forced my body out of its paralysis with sheer force of will, and I followed him, to see what he was doing.  I stood in the doorway watching him silently.  He poured out the bloody water into the bathtub, turned on the faucet there, rinsed out the towels a little and left them all there, and then after rinsing the bowl and wiping it with his fingers, then rinsing his hands, he filled the bowl halfway with water again, went back into the room and set it on the counter.

He walked out to the waiting room and motioned to the woman there who was taking the money and she pointed the next person in, who went in and closed the door. M. and I left.

M. was blown away.

I was traumatized just from witnessing it.

It wasn't that I minded what he did.  It's just that it directly violated what my body seems to think are the laws of physical reality, even though intellectually I'm quite okay with the idea. (He made it look so easy, too!)  I would have laughed at myself had I not been so upset -- at how blithely I assumed that such things would just be 'cool' and I would have no problem with them.

We went to a nearby diner, ordered something quickly and ate like it was our last supper. Then we were laughing, because it was so obvious we were eating because we were upset.

She said she felt lighter -- pounds lighter -- inside her torso. That she hadn't known she felt heavy until something was gone. She specifically felt that he had 'taken something out of her' although I didn't see anything like that and I was watching very closely. She said she felt wonderful actually, very energetic, lighter and happier in some way. 

She also said it had hurt like hell, and that she still felt very sore inside. This was surprising, as there were a few people in the waiting room who had been to sessions with him before, and they had assured us that there was no pain. I was thinking maybe they were exaggerating, like when people dismiss pain in retrospect, like how getting your ears pierced "doesn't hurt at all" and having a baby "really isn't so bad" once enough time has passed to blur people's memory.

I saw M. again that evening. She said she still felt as if she had somehow lost a few pounds of something heavy from that area, and still felt good about it. She said she felt he had taken an issue she'd had since she was about 10, that being some real suicidal tendencies. She said she hadn't thought about it and had never considered that it might be located in that area of the body, but she had just realized during the day that it was gone. I wasn't sure if this related to her fibroid tumors or not. He didn't seem to take anything out. The coincidence of his three deep plunges to her three tumors was probably just that, but who knows.

I had my session later in the afternoon.


I spent most of the day in shock.  I felt, for the first time in my life, as if I had encountered something that was a direct threat to my psychological reality. I didn't feel enlightened. I was glad for having witnessed something like that, but I felt traumatized.  I was dazed.

My friends L. and A. picked me up around 1:30. I was sitting outside on the grass by the building, because I didn't want to sit in the waiting room with the mutant. 

We went to lunch -- this just after M. and I had eaten more than our fill, so I had zero appetite. To please A. who insisted, I ordered an english muffin and tea (we were at a pub). They both had appointments after mine, and of course they wanted to know how it had gone with M.

I was so disturbed there was no hiding it.  I didn't know how to make them understand. I was having trouble talking much at all (and I normally talk a lot!).

It had nothing to do with something bad. Just that something profound inside me had shattered and I felt very "wrapped in myself" in some way.

I was concerned that my response would turn them off. They trusted me as an intelligent and objective observer, and had been so excited to hear my account.  Yet I was clearly SO upset I could barely speak. I was worried it was giving them the wrong idea, scaring them even, but I just didn't feel like talking much and couldn't seem to make myself act differently.

We wandered around.  We went to the import shop and I bought my parents a couple small gifts, and then we sat in the car in the shade for awhile saying nothing.  As I am normally the lively and talkative one, every minute of silence made it more obvious that I was disturbed.

It was about time for my appointment, and I went ahead into the building. I wanted to go into the bathroom and take off the extra clothes I was wearing -- leggings and a full slip under my blouse and skirt -- so I wouldn't have to do a whole strip for the guy when the time came.

When I came back into the waiting room, L. and A. were there. They sat there stonily and uncomfortably, staring straight ahead, as the reception woman chattered on at them ("at" being the key word).  I had told them about her, but I could tell I didn't need to; they were as aware of something "off" with her as I had been.  I seriously doubted that this was improving their impression of the whole situation.

Nestor was ready she said, so I went back into the room with him and closed the door.

OK. I was mildly terrified. I hate pain. I can take being beat up on the outside with no problem, but internal pain like cramps I am a total baby about. And there's this little issue of him having what seemed to be some kind of godlike power to violate physical reality as I knew it.

But something in the back of my mind said, maybe there is something going on here, maybe it's not real no matter how real it seems. I concluded I would have to actually experience it myself, fully conscious, with no reason to "need to believe" (I had no disease to be cured of, after all), in order to be "sure."  So I had to go through with it.  I had to FEEL it, not just SEE it.

Then I realized I'd been standing silently with my back against the door for several seconds.  I finally figured I might as well just be open with him!  So I joked, "Oh, great!  Now that I'm SCARED of you...!" He grinned.

"You shouldn't let people watch before a session," I sighed, and he laughed and said "Yeah... I know." I took off my blouse and skirt and climbed up on the table. I don't remember what else I said - or he said - at that point, but you know me, I can have a conversation with a table lamp.... we got to talking, as he put the towels around my underclothes (apparently this is to keep any blood from getting on them), about all sorts of things.

I told him I had no major physical ailment, but if he felt I needed anything (even the "energy" work alone), that was up to him.

As we talked, he did the same routine as he had with M., the flexing fingers and concentrating, except it seemed to take a bit longer. Then he wiggled his fingers above one section of my torso and sure enough, reached right THROUGH my skin.

Holy cats!  I couldn't stand it. The suspense was killing me, and talking with him had helped relax me somewhat. I lifted my head up and looked down at myself, welling up blood that was thick and dark and oddly slow; I was thoughtful.

I could feel him inside me, but I don't know that I can say I felt it as well as you'd feel something on your skin. It felt more like when your gum is numb and you can FEEL that the dentist is touching you here or there, it just doesn't hurt... it's sort of there yet not 'directly' felt.

It occurred to me that maybe we don't have the nerve endings on our organs we have on our surface (skin), so maybe that's why.

He jiggled his hands around a bit, and in a way it sort of tickled (not like laughter, it was just a little funny feeling). The SLOSHING was yet again the most memorable aspect of it. Now even if I could imagine someone faking this, how they would fake that sound, from that area, is a whole separate phenomenon.

But my impression was that he wasn't nearly as deeply inside of me as he had been her.

I said to him in some wonder, "It doesn't hurt! They told me it didn't, but M. - the woman I was here with this morning - it hurt her." He said something like, she has a lot of problems in that area, and they make her tender, and that's why she felt that; most people don't.

Then he said -- as if concerned I would say something to her -- that he doesn't tell people if they have problems; that it only makes them psychologically tied to it being so; that he would never consider telling people how sick they were or how long they have to live like Western doctors do; he said he just does what he can for them.

Wondering if he could 'sense' me the way he had appeared to 'sense' the woman who told me about him, I tried to relax, and imagined my heart area opening up and gently releasing loving-energy toward him. Why not. 

He did this reaching in and wiggling in probably eight different places around my torso, from right above the pubic area to way up in the stomach area and on the sides and middle and near the navel. On a few occasions I leaned up to look down at myself. This wasn't something easy to do, because I would have had to bend my torso to do much of that, and -- well, you know, clearly he was BUSY in that part of me!

During this, I had a rather "strong realization." I thought: this is the way it's supposed to be. Surgery, I mean. That a person really shouldn't get to the point of manifesting something physically that can kill them, but if they do, this is the "natural" way, like God's way if you want to put it like that, of dealing with it. It just felt so right.  So warm and loving.  So natural.

It felt like this was so non-invasive -- despite how it LOOKED -- and this was done with such a feeling of positiveness, like safety and love. I could imagine him taking out some kind of disease and filling that place with warm energy, and not a mark on you when you're done. It just seemed so holistically "right".

I asked him about his family. His grandmother was a shaman he said, what we might call a 'psychic dentist.' I started laughing, saying I'd never heard of such a thing! He grinned and said, "Really! It was said she could deaden all feeling in a root with one finger and the tooth would just slide out for her." Apparently when she died, she 'willed him' the power.

(Side note: this is common in many tribal cultures, for shaman grandparents, particularly healers as most shamans are, to "pass on" their "ability" to a grandchild. I know a man who told me this story about his African tribe, and how he had to go through a long ritual (still bears little scars on his chest) to get rid of it. For self defense, because where he was, it was a highly competitive (life endangering) business, magic.)

But as a sort of humorous accident in a way, he apparently got the talent, but he didn't know what to do with it! He had no idea how to do "psychic dentistry." However his father, said to be one of the best at his kind of "hands-IN" healing, found that Nestor was remarkably talented at doing that. So, Nestor joined his father instead.

I had this profound and rather important feeling while we were talking. It is difficult to explain and sounds a silly, but I'll try.

I felt "internally certain" that IF ONLY I could be around him long enough, just stand next to him while he did this on people, that I could do it. That something inside of me "recognized" whatever he was doing. That somehow his... faith? skill? I don't know.... would be almost contagious, if only the exposure were possible for me. I considered this consciously during that time, and I couldn't find any logical reason why I'd feel that way, I just did. It was the... internal equivalent of something on the tip of your tongue. Like ALMOST recognized. Almost there. Almost made the connection.

He has a few kids. The youngest is going into college now. His oldest, a girl, is a respiratory therapist; the youngest wants to study accounting and economics; I can't remember what the middle child did. We talked some about what I did for a living. At one point he looked a bit wistful, and he suddenly said, "You are SO lucky. You don't have your life arranged for you. You can do ANYTHING YOU WANT TO DO with your life. Anything!"

It was clear to me, as I felt intuitive about him at that moment, that he was referring to his ability locking him into "having to" do that and only that. We talked for a bit along those lines, about responsibility and such, about what having a 'gift' like his requires of someone. I realized he'd been pretty young when he got this ability and so he had never really had a "regular" life. Mind you, he wasn't complaining or anything. I was just sensitive to this and honestly cared about his perspective and wanted to hear, so I think he went ahead and opened up a little.

He said technically he's a reverend; but his local region and religion is catholic. The priests consider him a reverend and they lecture him when they don't feel he is providing the proper 'example' to people. He really just wants to go have a couple beers and sing kareoki!

I said, "So they want you to wear a white robe and live in a cave, right?" He laughed. Then he said well also, people know me. A celebrity can eat dinner, can tell people to leave them alone. But people find me because someone they love is dying. I can't tell them to let me have a life; I have to respond. And they think I am some kind of master, when I am just a man.

He smokes cigarrettes now and then (that shocked me). Apart from this ability that seems to make him relate to the universe in a pretty unique way, he seemed like a perfectly normal guy. If anything more balanced, intelligent, kind, "centered" than usual, but a normal guy.

Nestor said he had lived in Australia for five years. I asked if he liked it. He said, "No," and chuckled. I asked why and he said, "They are too "rational," they are stubbornly unable to grasp what I am doing or how to deal with it." He said the USA is very similar. I asked about his visits to other countries. He said he has been flown to Japan over 40 times by various people and the Japanese seemed to be easier with his work somehow.

I said, you go there to heal people? He said often the request is for him to "remove the negative energy and any potential difficulties with women who are pregnant, and the fetus, so they have healthy children." I was astonished by that idea. I said "Really? You can DO that? Without hurting the baby?!"  He looked at me like that part ought to be obvious, and said, "Of course."

By that time he was mopping me up for the last time and beginning "energy" work with his hands. Wow. It felt really groovy. If the guy ever loses this in-the-skin ability, he could make a living just doing energy work, he is astonishingly good at it, it's extremely "tangible." I have a good deal of experience with "hands on energy workers" and some were better than others, but he really kicked butt at it!  Way better than anybody I have ever encountered with that. I just blissed out for awhile while, then flipped over and blissed out for awhile more.

Then we were done. I looked at the clock. It had taken 30 minutes in all.  The woman out front had said the average session was 5-10 minutes; M.'s had taken 10.  He picked up the bowl with towels and left the room. I put my clothes on, took a quick look under the few inches of sheet hanging over the table on both sides (nope, nothing there!) and went out to the waiting room.


L. and A. were sitting there looking unhappy. The mutant-energy woman was still chattering on as she had been when I left. I felt sorry for them having to sit through it for so long. It was their turn next, but L. said, they had decided they weren't going to do it. They had a strange feeling and weren't comfortable. Considering the mutant, and my earlier response disturbing them, I wasn't surprised. So we left.

I went back to L's house and sat in a chair in the backyard, and kind of mellowed for a little while. I was hoping I wasn't just imagining it, based on what M. had said, but I actually felt a little lighter in the torso area too, though not at all to the degree she described. I felt really good actually, and I had been laughing a lot since I left the session, more than I had laughed in years! -- like I was just a little delighted with life, like I just felt a little bit light and bubbly.

I felt as if my body was straighter, as if my spine was... well not like it had been crooked before, it just felt as if everything were more comfortable and straight now, as if the components of my body fit together better somehow. I decided it was probably in my head but nice anyway. I never did have any soreness of any kind.

For weeks afterward, maybe more, I had more energy than I'd had in years. I don't mean I was wired, so much as that I just felt more alive all the time. 

I have had one odd effect, but I'm not sure it's related to this. When I came home to my baby Rykah, I felt differently. It took me about a day to pin it down. It's as if, when I left, she was PART OF me. I physically pined for her being away; I physically reacted if she cried; I physically craved her if I didn't get to touch her for awhile. I don't just mean we were close. I mean it was like my body was so attached to hers at some quantum level that I was having a hard time even having a separate personality. Most mothers put the baby down, and it might cry themselves to sleep. I couldn't. Everything Ry felt -- hunger, anger, joy -- I felt. I was like some amoeba doing the stimulus-response thing, all the time. It was truly exhausting and draining.

But when I came home, I was free. I still loved her desperately of course, that hadn't changed. But I didn't feel "helplessly" tied to her as I had prior. I felt independent. Like for the first time in years I had my OWN mind, my OWN life, my OWN body. The only conclusion I could come to is that I have heard babies tend to have very strong energy links to the mother, and that's why mothers are often drained and even sick; their kids literally feed off them, in that sense. I thought perhaps he had "disconnected" that, for my own health, or something. Who knows.

Anyway, it was an amazing experience. If I had money, I'd go find him and his father in the Philippines and talk them into letting me record it. They're ok with pictures and he seemed pretty open about what he did, except in the case of potential legal troubles in some countries. (He told me, "I can't take anything out in this country.") One of the women who was in the waiting room (another person who had seen him before) said that he has often let a whole group of people come in and stand around him watching him closely, to make sure he doesn't have like a tiny tube of blood glued to his arm or isn't doing something shady or fraudulent.

I have zero concern about that, now. But I can see a lot of people would react badly to the very idea of this, let alone the spectre of it.

I've looked up some stuff on the internet about this kind of thing. Apparently "Phillippino Psychic Surgeons" are old news. People talk about this watery pinkish blood, animal entrails, curtains and robes -- all the typical junk I expected. I don't get it. He is NOTHING like that!

Not as a person or as an experience. Maybe he is one of the very few 'real' ones?

All the stuff described by people in these other accounts, I could poke a million holes in it from a controlled or science perspective or even common sense frankly. But he didn't do those things. We didn't have that situation.  Considering the physical circumstance, I'd be hard pressed to come up with any form of fraud that I could prove.

And there's the issue that now having been IN it, I believe it, because my body believed it. Not even just because of the physical stuff, but because of the "internal" or "intuitive" experience that was part and parcel of that.

I suppose it's a measure of how I responded to this that I actually "sent good thoughts toward Nestor" at least weekly for several years after. I was left with a very affectionate, positive feeling toward him, one of real gratitude.  I hope someday, somehow, I meet up with him again.

[end]

You can send email to PJ Gaenir about this account.

PJ's Personal Archives Menu Page



The Firedocs Remote Viewing Collection is now a static archive (Feb 2008). Click here to see what's still online for reference.

All contents on this website are Copyright © 1995 to present by Palyne 'PJ' Gaenir. All rights reserved.
Permission is given to reproduce anything in small quantity, but online only, and please mention/link source.