In: Pilkington, Rosemary. (ed.) (1987). Men and Women of Parapsychology: Personal Reflections. Jefferson, NC: McFarland.
People come to a deeply felt conviction of the importance of psychical research from very different starting points. It can be, as in the case of Gardner Murphy, that during the formative years one encounters inspiring figures who have had the courage to acknowledge publicly the reality of these phenomena. In Murphy's day it was William James and Walker Franklin Prince. His reading of Myers and others further fired his imagination and led him to his life-long devotion to the subject.
I came to it through a different route, namely, by a direct encounter with almost all the classical phenomena of the séance as described in the literature of the late 19th and early 20th century. It came about in this way:
Sometime in the Fall of 1932 a college friend, Leonard Lauer, told me of a series of strange events that had happened to a friend of his named Gilbert Roller. Leonard and I were about sixteen at the time and just beginning our sophomore year. We were both taking pre-med courses and considered ourselves budding scientists. What Leonard confided to me that day was the beginning of my involvement with psychical research.
He told me that Gilbert at about the age of eleven or twelve was the focus around which poltergeist phenomena occurred. Small objects were thrown about the room, watch crystals were broken, writing done with a lipstick appeared on mirrors, etc. Leonard learned of these events several months prior to his talk with me. It led him to look up the literature on psychical research and then, along with Gilbert and two others, to an attempt to replicate some of the phenomena he was reading about. They met weekly and had a series of séances in which they sat around a table in the dark. According to Leonard there was a response in the form of tilting and some movement of the table. Leonard told me about this in the hope of starting the sittings again. I was interested and agreed to join in what turned out to be a regular Saturday night commitment to psychic phenomena. Leonard suggested some books on the subject to which I promptly reacted. My readings included Hudson's "The Law of Psychic Phenomena", Myers, Lodge, Lombroso and Schrank-Notzing. I must have been a "sheep" from the beginning because the reading enthralled me, particularly since, the more I read the more impressed I was with how many great figures of the last century had ventured into the field.
So much for my beginning exposure to the literature. More exciting was what happened over almost a two year period (1932-1933) as a consequence of a dedicated devotion to Saturday night séances. From time to time the circle increased as we drew friends into it. There were six "regulars ".
On several occasions I have tried to write an account of what happened. I never succeeded to my complete satisfaction. To understand its meaning and impact one must take into account the unique circumstances under which it evolved. A group of teenagers, some in college, some not, began to meet regularly every Saturday night. They persisted at sitting, not for a month or two but for nearly two years with very few missed sessions. We stayed with it despite an unpredictable mix of successes and failures, spurred on by the slow evolution of ever more startling and exciting manifestations. Starting with uncertain knocks and tilting of a small end table around which we sat in the dark holding hands, we ended up after several months with a bridge table levitating and dancing around the room. The next step was the identification of the force involved as intelligent through coded rappings on the table. Spurred on by our continued reading we went on to produce photographs on unexposed plates which, in turn, led to successful experiments in thought photography. By this time we were informed that we had made contact with a doctor named Bindelof, who had died in 1919 but who was still interested in healing people. We arranged a very striking communication system with him. We would sit around the end table, clasping each others hands at the edge of the table, while a pencil and paper rested on a lower shelf of the table. Soon after the lights were out we would hear the pencil writing very fast for a few seconds and then it would be put down with a loud noise. This was a signal for us to turn on the lights and read the message. The messages were answers to our many naive questions about the nature of the phenomena, about life after death, and about what we had to do to facilitate the force involved. Stopping at nothing we went on to try for materialization. The nearest we got was when all of us were touched consecutively and then at the same time by what felt like human fingers. Our efforts at healing through Dr. Bindelof's ministrations were not remarkable except for a few strange and noteworthy effects, as when a very nearsighted person felt that fingers were manipulating his eyeballs from within the orbit.
The question then as now is how genuine were all these effects. Those of us who formed the core group were deeply convinced that the effects were genuine although the interpretation of the effects differed (basically, whether or not we were into the issue of survival). We could point to certain objective evidence for the reality of the phenomena we witnessed, aside from the trust we had in each other and the powerful subjective impact of the experience. Despite our youth and inexperience we did take reasonable precautions at each phase of the process and were quite careful in our handling of the photographic plates. Because of certain effects that were generated at the last minute prior to getting an image on an unexposed plate I was certain that the plate could not have been doctored beforehand. During Dr. Bindelof's helping phase we would put questions to him and get the answers back as written messages. Since we were at an age where many vexing problems beset us we asked for and received permission to think rather than ask questions out loud. I can testify in my own case to the specificity and relevance of the answer.
In a cursory way this touches on the highlights of the experience. Twenty-nine years after the experience I managed to bring the core group together to spend an entire day reminiscing about the experience, our varying interpretations of it and the impact it had had on our lives. That is a story in itself. In my case it resulted in a life-long fascination with psychic phenomena and a deep conviction about its significance. None of us were tricksters or magicians and I doubt whether any of us were clever enough to have carried off a hoax over a two year period, displaying such a remarkable variety of phenomena, without evoking suspicion. As adults we were divided into two camps -- those who took the phenomena at face value believed that Dr. Bindelof was who he professed to be -- a dead physician still interested in helping humanity -- and who believed explicitly in the account he gave of life after death, and those who held to a minority view, offered by Leonard and myself, a view that looked upon the phenomena as paranormal but shaped by the unique circle we formed and its endurance in so dedicated a way over the two year period. We felt the emotional turmoil each of us was in during this time of adolescence had played a significant role. More specifically, growing out of unmet needs in our homes was our individual and collective need for a benevolent, all-powerful father figure. Dr. Bindelof was seen as our creation, someone responsive to our needs, helping us when we were in trouble and bringing us to incredible levels of excitement through the enormous power at his disposal. In our opinion (Leonard and mine) there was no objective evidence that we were dealing with a real person who had died. Nevertheless, like the others, we were and remain convinced that all that did occur, including the mysterious writings, were genuine psychic phenomena. The core group continued to hold reunions yearly for four years, checking and cross-checking our memories, evaluating the residually available data and writing up our individual accounts.
Having had a career both in parapsychology and in psychiatry I know how easy it is to be fooled, how easily subjective factors and belief systems can influence perception, but my conviction about the reality of the experience is unshaken. It rests on what happened as a group experience at that time, what happened to me personally, the artifacts that have endured, and my now fifty year knowledge of the key participants. Over the years I have witnessed on a smaller scale many effects that, in some measure, were congruent with what we produced in the early thirties, e.g., the thought photography reported by Eisenbud, the table moving experiments of Batcheldor and the manifold effects of Kulagina which included psychokinesis as well as effects on photographic plates and organ systems.
In the years that followed the Bindelof experience I made three abortive attempts to reproduce the kinds of physical effects I had known earlier. The first was in 1944 at which time I was stationed in an army hospital outside of Paris. I managed to impress three of my fellow medical officers with the story of my earlier experiences. On three or four occasions we spent the evening intermittently sitting around a table in the dark with hand contact. Nothing happened.
In 1946, while on terminal leave from the army, one of the first things I did on getting back to New York was to visit the American Society for Psychical Research which, at that time, was located on 34th Street. It was there that I first met Gardner Murphy. Within ten minutes of our meeting responding to his openness and interest, the whole story of the Bindelof experience came pouring out. A year later I located two of the main participants, Gilbert and Leonard. This led to a series of evening sittings with Gardner, which took place at my office. The late Emanuel Schwartz, a psychologist, also attended. Again nothing happened.
A final attempt took place with the entire core group on the occasion of our second annual meeting in 1961. Nothing happened. You can't t go home again.
Whatever happened in the thirties happened in relation to a powerfully charged emotional atmosphere. We were inspired, almost messianic in our zeal to bring Dr. Bindelof's message to the world. Different as we were from each other we were all going through inner turmoil of the quality and intensity that only adolescents know. We were not the most stable group of adolescents, if that term has any meaning for that age group.
The distillate of that experience has stayed with me throughout the years. It biased me toward a concern with the emotional field involved in the pursuit of psi, to the importance of an open attitude, to the responsiveness of psi effects to the existence of genuine human needs and finally, to the importance of dedicating oneself into the pursuit of the phenomenon over time. Gross psi effects require a long incubation period. This developmental aspect is difficult to bring into the laboratory. An optimal emotional environment is also difficult to bring into the laboratory. I would characterize that environment as one of need, tension, heightened interest, belief, expectation and commonality of goal.
The closest I have come to replication this kind of atmosphere with some measure of success was in the recent studies in dream sharing conducted at the ASPR from 1978 to 1984. Here, again, a developmental effect was observed but in no way comparable to the Bindelof effects. Limited as it was to the realm of effects noted in dreams it was nevertheless clearly apparent and convincing to those of us who participated.
In some ways my own parapsychological journey paralleled the domiciliary moves of the ASPR. At the time of the Bindelof experience Leonard and I visited its headquarters at the old Hyslop house on 23rd Street. There we sought to bring our "discoveries" to a broader scientific public. We unburdened ourselves to Bligh Bond, then the secretary of the Society. He listened politely but, as I recall didn't seem interested or encouraging.
My next encounter with the ASPR was in 1946 when the Society was located on E.34th Street. Here I was introduced to Gardner Murphy, Laura Dale, George Hyslop, Lydia Allison and the other dedicated souls who were working against great odds to keep up scientific interest in psychic phenomena.
The Society then moved to Fifth Avenue and 69th Street. Psychical research became parapsychological research. Under Gardner's direction Laura and others were busy following through on some of the lines of research being opened up under Dr. Rhine's direction at Duke University. This didn't displace an open interest in the way the laity experienced the paranormal and attention was paid to collecting spontaneous case material. During this time Gardner and I along with students he brought from City College met weekly at my office for experiments using hypnosis for the ESP transfer of free drawings. It was also at this time that Laura and I initiated our pilot exploration of dream telepathy.
This took place before our knowledge of the REM state and its relationship to dreaming. Using a machine called the dormiphone we could be awakened at any pre-set time during the night to try to capture a dream. Laura and I alternated as subject and agent. We met every Friday to compare our dreams and diary report. The results were encouraging and led ultimately to the experimental investigation of dream telepathy at Maimonides Hospital. This coincided with the move of the ASPR to its current location. Earlier, Karlis Osis and Douglas Dean joined with me and, through the good graces of Eileen Garrett and the Parapsychology Foundation we carried out very promising pilot studies. When Stan Krippner joined the laboratory at Maimonides we were able finally to transform these initial efforts into a series of systematic and carefully designed experiments.
Sometime in 1948 Gardner and I discussed the creation of a Medical Section of the ASPR. This was at a time when there was a spirit of interest among psychoanalysts and psychiatrists in the clinical significance of the telepathic dream. Jan Ehrenwald had published his first book on the subject. Jule Eisenbud had published an article in the Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association. Bob Laidlaw had been working with Eileen Garrett. For my part, though I had not published anything on the subject, I had been meeting with Gardner for weekly lunches and shared my excitement at being at the receiving end of telepathic dreams from patients.
The Medical Section meetings which took place about once a month beginning in March of 1948 and extending over the next five years were a memorable experience in many ways. Aside from consolidating lasting friendships (we were few against the many) sharing clinical psi experiences resulted in much cross fertilization of ideas and, I believe, acted as a kind of supraordinate intangible influence that stimulated the rate of occurrence of psi effects between our patients and ourselves.
There is a special excitement generated when psi effects crop up in an analytic session. There is a heightened intensity of interest, a sense of discovery, an awareness of moving into uncharted areas. At the same time there is that strange feeling of someone able to see through you, seeing all the things you so carefully contrive to hide from view.
At our meetings we were mutually supportive rather than critical. There was a common base of acceptance based on commonly agreed upon objective criteria and the deeply felt uncanny quality of the experience. Ehrenwald had an unending series of striking examples. Eisenbud was bold enough and skillful enough to introduce the psi hypothesis to the patient in working though the dynamics of the experience. I was even brash enough to come out of the psychic closet and share my earlier college experience with the group. One of the unforeseen and far-flung consequences of that sharing was Eisenbud's ready response to the thought photography of Ted Serios.
Teaching and working with dreams over four decades I have been impressed with how much more we don't know than how much we do. Despite all the doors that have been opened since the resurgence of interest in dreams in the fifties that interest has been pursued in a narrow way. We know more about the neurophysiology of sleep and dreams, more about some of the psychological features of the REM state, a new perspective on the phylogenesis of dreaming, but two significant areas remain largely unexplored -- the psi dimension and the sociological dimension. Nor would it surprise me if we were some day to note a relationship between these two that may have a bearing on their relative neglect. As an example consider this. The most striking psychological product of the industrial revolution is the view of the individual as an ahistoric discrete entity, an atomic structure bouncing off other atomic structures. This is far from the optimal arrangement for the emergence of the human potential for moral, emotional and creative fulfillment. The price we pay for this is a gradual increase in social entropy in parallel with the possibility of nuclear annihilation.
There are sufficient clues about the way psi operates to speculate about the relationship of this state of affairs to psi. In the therapeutic relationship we witness one form of psi, its availability as an emergency measure in the interest of holding on to some vital form of contact. At the other extreme, laboratory studies have formed the healthier personality structure as more apt to come up with psi effects. Isolated reports on primitive tribes go further and suggest the appearance of psi abilities as a more or less natural communicative medium. For the most part these are also forms of social organization where there is much more social cohesiveness than the kind of individualism and discreteness that characterizes modern society. Psi then seems to be an emergency mechanism for the individual adrift in a technological society and an available and useful form of adaptation in societies that have escaped that evolutionary route. Perhaps psi in its full and palpable form will never appear in industrialized societies as they are now organized except in tiny quantitative doses, sporadic anecdotal accounts and occasional freakish outbursts.
The future of psychic research is an intriguing question. In the wake of two recent centennial celebration (the S.P.R.and the A.S.P.R.) this question looms larger than ever.
We seem to have moved through two rather distinct epochs. The earlier one was characterized by direct observation of gross effect, best exemplified in the pursuit of the great mediums, and the more recent one where, with the benefit of advanced scientific techniques, paranormal effects could be teased out on a quantitative basis.
Each approach was a product of its age. Each reflected certain prevailing trends, the reaction to a materialist view of man in the case of the first and the belief in the power of the scientific approach as it has been derived from the biological and physical sciences. I think the time is approaching when we will have to reorient ourselves to a third phase. Without a broader conceptual frame of reference I don't think that staying with approaches developed in the second phase will significantly alter the picture. Progress may continue in the same desultory way but I don't think the field will emerge successfully from its closeted existence into full public and scientific view as a central issue for our time.
I can offer only a rather speculative vision of what that third phase might look like.
Just as the first phase was shaped as a reaction to a particular view of man so, too, was the second phase. This time, however, the situation was a bit more complex, and contradictory trends emerged that have persisted throughout the second phase. The same anti-materialist and ill-concealed dualistic bias shaped the founding of the new science of parapsychology. There was, however, the realization that in order for further progress to be made there had to be interest and acceptance by orthodox science. The scientific method had to be applied with a rigor and fastidiousness that surpassed ordinary standards.
A measure of repeatability did result, by no means a minor accomplishment. At the same time progress was frustratingly slow and in no way brought us any closer to understanding the essential nature of the phenomena under investigation.
If the third phase is to introduce a fundamental difference it would seem to me that the central issue would revolve about a question that exists independent of psi, namely, the adequacy of the scientific method as it has evolved, to address issues that have the kind of complex interactive and social components that characterize human affairs. In these matters we have to note the extent to which our scientific pursuit of psi has followed rather than challenged the leitmotif of individualism that colors both art and science in the twentieth century. This individualistic orientation in its culmination in a present epoch characterized by fragmentation of the human species in every way has brought us to the point of facing an uncertain survival for the entire species.
David Bohm, a distinguished theoretical physicist, taking note of this state of affairs, feels that even our approach to physical phenomena is basically wrong and should be revised. Instead of emphasis on the discreteness of manifest entities in the physical world the emphasis should be placed on the interconnectedness of all matter and its rootedness in a common ground of being which he refers to as the implicate order.
In retrospect the second phase, despite its many constructive features, had a kind of will-of-the-wisp quality to it. It was like chasing a phantom with a slide rule. Sometimes we got close enough-to take a few measurements but never did we get near enough to penetrate to the heart of the mystery.
My projection for the third phase would be to start with the most pressing need facing humanity today. How do we close ranks and re-experience ourselves as members of a single species? How do we overcome the fragmentation and begin to foster compassion and communion, neither of which can flourish in the pursuit of a specious individualism?
What has all this got to do with psi? Psi effects seem to occur (as I interpret my own experience) either when external factors impede significant contact or when internal factors result in the impedance. I believe this to be the essential nature of the psi capacity despite the fact that at times trivial items may be the ones being picked up.
What are the systems in which psi emerges as an integral part, and can they lend themselves to careful study? There have been three basic approaches to psi and I think all of them suggest a systemic effect; the laboratory approach, the clinical approach and the anecdotal approach.
In the case of the laboratory approach we decide on the limits of the system we wish to study and find ourselves enmeshed in a supraordinate system which, by adding its own influence, contaminates the original system. The experimenter effect would be an example. In the case of the clinical approach all that has been written about it points to an interactive effect whereby psi capacities are mobilized as a kind of covert contact between two or more individuals. In the case of the anecdotal material it is as if, under the pressure of the emotional stress of a given situation, the covert contact becomes overt regardless of whether it is accepted as such or not.
If reports of psi communication among aborigines are correct it might prove a fertile natural system to explore. My own experience, notably that of my youth and, more recently, in group dream work, has convinced me that psi can evolve in natural systems when there is an interest in psi and a persistence in its pursuit. Essential to such an endeavor would be the humility and sensitivity to follow where psi effects lead us to instead of what I sometimes think is a certain degree of scientific arrogance in thinking we can trap psi by one of our ingenious experimental designs.
My work with dream telepathy is a good example. The most exciting and stimulating time was during the free-wheeling pilot phase. As we then shifted to designs to prove rather than to investigate dream telepathy the results, while they cam through statistically, were divorced from an understanding of the human context from which they arose. Finally, when the big experimental push was made to prove dream telepathy under the impetus of an NIMH grant the result was a dismal failure. All this cannot be accounted for by the looseness of the controls initially and the subsequent tightening of them but, rather that as the goal became proof rather than understanding something was lost that otherwise would have given personal meaning to each discrete psi event that cropped up.
When it comes to human affairs the search for knowledge must include an aesthetic component, i.e., it has to be concerned with questions of fit, order, and the role of intuition. It no longer is possible to package truth in the form of cold impersonal facts. In the way people deal with each other truth registers as a felt response aside from the question of whether it is attended to or not, admitted or denied. In gathering facts about the physical world this aspect of the truth is often set aside as irrelevant. In the truly innovative scientific projections, however, they often start with an intuitive flash that is aesthetically illuminating.
In my opinion the third phase will be more productive if it can find a way to align itself with this aesthetic component without sacrificing the vigor of scientific exploration.
What are some of the implications of this point of view for the third phase?
1. We have to define any experiment in psi as embedded in a series of systems - ordinate and supraordinate system relationships. This means attending to the question of which system is implicated in the psi event, the system we are attempting to manipulate or the larger supraordinate system of which the system is a part.
2. If the supraordinate system is implicated the effect has to be seen as a system effect rather than, as heretofore considered, the experimenter effect." This is so because the experimenter is part of the system supraordinate to the designated experimental system one where his motivation, needs and ways of interacting with others are all brought into play.
3. The recent theoretical contributions of David Bohm have highlighted these system relations which arise from and lead to the emphasis on the interconnectedness of all things.
The importance of Bohm's thinking lies in the radical shift in emphasis from our way of taking for granted the discreteness of things to realigning our sights so that more attention is paid to field phenomena that betray this essential interconnectedness. Certainly in the pursuit of psi effects much is lost if field effects aren't taken into account and it may even be that we have made a difficult situation even more difficult by this neglect. Gardner Murphy touched on this in his approach to the survival problem. William Roll also did in his analysis of poltergeist phenomena.
Since most experimental efforts involve interacting human beings and each carries along their own supraordinate system the field approach can become quite complicated and removed from the ideal goal of controlling definable variables. It seems to me that one way of approaching this problem is to devote some effort to cultivating psi in as naturalistic a setting as possible and, if successful, then to begin to explore and identify the field effects at the various levels of organization at which they occur - physical, biological, psychological, small group, larger group, etc. To add to the power of the endeavor we would include a temporal field by planning studies that develop over time. The complexity of the field may very well require an interdisciplinary approach. Such an approach has been conspicuously lacking in parapsychological research. Whatever other disciplines have been involved have either made contributions shaped by their own field of interest or have simply carried over and applied techniques originating in parapsychological laboratories to their own specialty.
Drawing on my own experience I feel there is much to be gained from a slow, free-wheeling developmental approach over an extended period of time. Two experiences almost forty years apart have convinced me of this. The first goes back to 1948 when, under Gardner Murphy's guidance I started, at first quite informally, a series of meetings with Lois Murphy in which she was the percipient and I the agent, using free drawings. We met weekly at my office for over a year before it was terminated by the Murphy's move to Topeka. During this time I had the feeling that I was working with someone who was slowly beginning to get in touch with her psi capacity and learning how to move into that state of mind that led to some degree of conviction around the target. She would let herself go into what she described as a free-wheeling stage which, in effect, was letting her thoughts and feelings go off in any direction at all. This was then followed by what she referred to as being in gear, during which a number of images would come to mind that, varied as they might be, left her feeling that they were clustering around the target. There were many failures but some of the successes were spectacular.
The second example occurred more recently. In the course of several years of dream sharing in a small group that met weekly, one of the participants, Barbara Shelp, did develop psi ability in a rather striking way. This happened to someone who had no prior first-hand experience with psi. These effects appeared in her dreams and were manifested in distinctly different ways and in relation to other members of the group that reflected something of the specifics of her differing relationship with each. She also began to be aware of the increasing role that psi began to play in her personal life outside of the group. While each of us experienced something from time to time that we would informally accept as psi it became obvious that something rather special was happening with Barbara. There was something analogous to what we were doing with dreams to what the Toronto group did in conjuring up Phillip and Batcheldor's approach to table movement. It provided the combination of spontaneity, informality, deep interest, a cohesive focus and a temporal dimension. All of this would make for useful ingredients in the approach to the third phase. In a sense the third phase would be a replay of the first phase but at a higher level and utilizing more sophisticated psychological, group and technological techniques.
In sum I have had four close encounters with psi, first at a personal level in the early Bindelof experiences, and occasionally thereafter (a few sporadic dreams that struck me as either telepathic or precognitive); secondly, in the course of my psychoanalytic practice; thirdly, in the course of the experimental work at Maimonides and, most recently, in the informal dream sharing sessions conducted over the past several years at the A.S.P.R. The earliest were by far the most powerful and most lasting. They remain deeply embedded in my psyche, a continuing source of wonderment and mystery and unanswered questions pertaining not to their actuality as paranormal experiences but to their nature. I remain, a half century later, just as unresolved as I was then as to any particular explanatory point of view.
The psychoanalytic experiences reawakened that sense of excitement and challenge. They convinced me that we do possess an ability, perhaps developed unevenly in the population, of tapping into our psi abilities in the interest of working our interpersonal tensions.
My feelings are mixed about the outcome of the experimental dream studies. On the one hand I think we were able to induce telepathic and precognitive dreaming under well-controlled laboratory conditions. On the other hand the price we paid for orienting our work toward quantitative results led away from rather than toward any deeper understanding of the phenomena we were dealing with. The free wheeling pilot studies carried out in the fifties under the auspices of the Parapsychological Foundation were truly exciting, raising as they did the possibility of an experimental approach. Being an active participant, inspired enough to stay up all night to monitor the dreams of the sleeping subject and witnessing the dramatic correspondences between the drawings and pictures we used as targets and the subject's dreams generated a sense of involvement, immediacy and spontaneity that was impossible to replicate when following a pre-ordered experimental protocol. The results far exceeded my expectations. They certainly influenced my decision to give up practice and move into a situation where further research would be possible.
Once we began to formalize the approach and introduce all the constraints necessary for a tight methodology we did succeed in getting statistically significant results but, to put it simply, the fun was gone. It became another well-controlled parapsychological experiment designed to add further laboratory proof of the reality of psi. I was involved in proving rather than investigating the paranormal dream. The responsibility for running a department of psychiatry and a developing community mental health center diverted my energies and distanced me from the actual experimental work. Interested as I was I no longer felt as personally involved as I was during the pilot phase of the work.
My most recent pursuit of the paranormal dream began in the late seventies and came about in conjunction with my growing interest in group dream work. I again went back to an informal exploratory approach using a small group process in which dream sharing and experiential dream work took place. This opened up the possibility of seeking out psi correspondences through the sharing of both daytime and nocturnal experiences. Based on the encouraging results we obtained I feel that studies such as this pursued over a period of time can add a significant longitudinal developmental dimension as well as adding to our awareness of some of the psychological factors involved. It represents an attempt at cultivating psi in a natural and evolving interpersonal field.
On rereading what I have written I realize how one-sided this account has been. Biased by my own experiences I became an explorer from within outward. Since I started with a deep conviction and an intuitive sense of the circumstances I consider favorable toward psi I gravitated toward what might be congruent with that approach bypassing on the way more or less other experimental approaches and theoretical possibilities. These I have left for others.
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Montague Ullman, M.D., noted psychiatrist, psychoanalyst, researcher, educator, and author, has been involved in psychic investigation for most of his life. He founded the Dream Laboratory at the Maimonides Medical Center in Brooklyn, New York, and has been devoted since then to dream research and the development of group approaches to dream work here and abroad. At present he is clinical professor of psychiatry, Albert Einstein College of Medicine.
Dr. Ullman is a past president of the Parapsychological Association and of the American Society for Psychical Research. He is a life fellow of the American Psychiatric Association and a charter fellow of the American Academy of Psychoanalysis.