The Tourist From the Light

By Bryon Williams

this is a thought provoking novel that fascinates as it entertains.
psycho therapist, peter mahoney is forced to re-examine his training, beliefs and eventually his very existence when he meets, john, a seemingly very ordinary, average, elderly client suffering from panic attacks. peter suspects agoraphobia but under regression hypnotherapy john's symptoms don't seem to add up and peter changes his diagnosis to possible multiple personality disorder.
but a problem occurs when the 'switches', or personalities, appear to be coming from different countries and different times: the most surprising of which is 'the tourist from the light', who claims to have lived on earth at the beginning of our time!
is this some gigantic hoax or is he dealing with a religious nut serving his own agenda?
parallel to this, peter is having his own personal problems with his soon to be divorced wife, jill, whom he still loves. When she suffers a devastating accident for which peter blames himself the two events, john's puzzling case and jill's accident become inexorably linked.
what transpires throws peter into a vortex of emotions, guilt and self doubt that eventually exposes him to a shattering paranormal epiphany and an alternative philosophy that could change mankind's thinking forever.
has the client come to be healed or to heal the therapist?
this is one man's journey of discovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryon Williams
• Release date: Jun 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465769497

Bryon Williams

Ex stage and Television actor,director, producer and script writer, now a full time carer for his physically handicapped wife, Marie. Lives in Australia on the beautiful Gold Coast of Queensland. Has written seven novels: The Grumpy Old Withered of Oz, an autobiography, The Twilight Escort Agency, a bawdy comedy set on the Gold Coast, Code Name Millicent:The CIA Agent Who Came Out of the Cold, a whimsical comedy, The Tourist From the Light,a paranormal romance and The Burning Boy, an action crime adventure. This was followed by, The Reluctant Psychic, a paranormal murder mystery, and A Novel Approach, a compilation of The Withered of Oz and The Twilight Escort Agency. Oh well, it keeps me off the streets.

Book preview

Chapter 1

He was an average man; average name – John, average height, average weight, average looking, except for his eyes, which were an extraordinary blue flecked with the grey of life’s experiences and maybe disappointments. It wasn’t just the colour, but the intensity that shone through whenever he became emotional or excited. Silver-white hair, cut short, olive complexion, a few age spots and wrinkles that befitted his age.

During our initial consultation I had established that he was now sixty-five years old but appeared reasonably fit for his age; no sign of pot tummy or particularly flabby muscles. Yes, an average type on the outside, but as it turned out, far from average within.

I filled out the usual form with his name, address, contact phone number and medical background and we settled down to, as it turned out, our first of many sessions that would turn my life upside down.

He told me that his wife of forty-odd years had suffered a stroke several years previously, leaving her partly paralysed down the left side and John as her sole carer. When I inquired as to the reason for his visit, I was not altogether surprised to find out that he suffered from recurring bouts of depression and panic attacks from time to time. Without treatment, this could develop into the full-blown anxiety disorder of agoraphobia, which, in extreme cases, was often precipitated by the fear of suffering a panic attack while away from their usual comfort zone and force them into leading very reclusive lives. As a carer in his situation this could be dangerous.

Like many sufferers John referred to these attacks as the ‘black dog syndrome’, but fortunately they had not appeared to have developed to the extreme and had remained manageable. Considering his circumstances I considered his suffering depression and panic attacks fairly understandable. However, he informed me that these attacks had started years ago, in his early teenage years, or even earlier, well prior to his wife’s stroke and even before he was married. Although he had sought medical attention several times over the years, the attacks still persisted despite counselling, psychiatric treatment and medication. He had read somewhere that regression therapy through hypnosis can sometimes help and with the added responsibility and stress brought about by his wife’s condition, he had finally decided that his life was difficult enough without succumbing to these awful unexpected attacks, which virtually paralysed him, and to try one more time.

I had an accredited, private, one-man practice, which included hypnotherapy and alternative regression therapy, and he told me he had been recommended by someone he had met somewhere in his travels.

I dimmed the lights and placed headphones on his ears, then attached sensor electrodes to his skull, which fed into a monitor. I switched on the gentle background music comprised of sounds specifically designed for people with such a condition, composed and recorded with a beat and rhythm to encourage the brain cell vibration to reduce to a slow 8-12 cycles per second. This would put the client into the Alpha brainwave state, which would help him to relax, put him into a light sleep and into a meditative state.

We went through the usual relaxation and intercostal diaphragmatic breathing exercises I preferred to use prior to the hypnosis session and although, to begin with, he appeared to find it difficult to detach himself from the daily grind and concerns, he was eventually able to let go. After that, he accepted my suggestions quite readily and was able to enter at least a shallow hypnotic state.

During the first few sessions we established that he had had a fairly average childhood, with a loving mother whom he adored and who, in return, adored him, and an amiable, if distant, relationship with his father, who tended to be a little remote emotionally. Not unlike my own or many other people’s stories, really. But he claimed his father had been a good man who provided well for his wife and family and gave them a secure home life.

John had three siblings, one twin brother and two sisters whose relationship appeared quite amicable. There was no indication of abuse of any kind, no evidence of bi-polar or any other chronic medical condition, or, it appeared, any of the other likely causes of this condition. However, dealing with the mysteries of the mind had taught me not to rush in with a diagnosis based on early sessions as the client was quite capable of unintentionally lying or avoiding the truth even under hypnosis. It takes time to build up a trusting relationship with the client.

He had married his wife, Waneta, whom he loved dearly, when he was twenty-three years old, and they had one child, a son, Johnson, now living in Tasmania with his partner and their daughter, Susan. John had been educated up to Senior grade, which was then equal to what is now a Leaving Certificate or completion of Year Twelve. He had never gone on to university and, because of his family’s financial situation, went straight into the workforce with a telecommunications company as a linesman. He laughingly said he supposed he would now be considered to be in the communications industry.

In our initial consultation John appeared to possess a very gentle and kind nature, and he responded openly to my questions. He told me he and Waneta enjoyed a close and loving relationship right up to the present time and if anything, their bond was now stronger than it was when they were young and both able bodied. In fact, it appeared they were coping extremely well under the circumstances. Their love was the all-important ingredient that held them together as a single unit. No doubt this had played a large part in Waneta’s condition becoming manageable and even stabilising, but it appeared to be having little effect on John’s condition and the recurring bouts of depression.

After several successive sessions, each one encouraging him to go a little deeper into the hypnotic state, there still appeared nothing unusual enough to suggest any valid reason for John’s continuing black dog syndrome and I determined on the next visit to try a different angle.

Through a colleague I had received a new CD, which I hadn’t even listened to myself, but which he claimed could slow the brainwave vibrations down to an even slower rate, the Theta state, thus bringing the brain cells to vibrate at the even lower 4-8 cycles per second, where profound emotional changes can occur. I certainly didn’t expect what transpired when I used it with John, and over the succeeding months, I was forced to rethink and re-evaluate much of my training and many of the ideas and clinical beliefs I currently held.

We began with the usual breathing exercises deep into the lower lung area which slowed his heartbeat. As he relaxed, his regular breathing slowed and became a little deeper. I noticed on the monitor that his brainwave activity had indeed slowed down to five cycles per second. He was in the Theta state. I then suggested that he imagine himself standing at the top of a beautiful staircase. I asked him to describe it and after a short time he said, ‘It’s wide and circular, sweeping down and down … until it just disappears, out of sight.’

‘Good. What’s it made of?’ I asked.

‘Marble … Sort of whitish grey … There’s a carpet runner.’

‘What colour?’

‘Green … dark green … and there’s a sort of border … gold.’

‘What about a banister?’ I asked.

‘Yes … curving down … carved.’

‘How do you feel about this – standing at the top of these stairs looking down?’

‘Fine. I feel fine … I’m very high up. I don’t know where it leads.’

‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ I said. ‘When I ask you, you’re going to start walking down the stairs, and as you do, with each step, allow yourself to relax even more, but you’ll remain pleasantly alert to everything around you. With each step you will feel yourself letting go of any tension you may be holding within you. You’ll actually feel as though you’re almost floating down the stairs. And when you get to the very bottom I suggest you’ll find it comes out into a very pleasant place, one where you feel very comfortable and secure. Alright, John, start walking down the stairs.’

There was a short pause. His eyelids began to flutter slightly. And then …

‘They seem to go on forever …’

‘Keep walking … down and down,’ I said softly. ‘Don’t hurry. We’ve got all the time in the world and you’re very safe.’

There was another pause and a relaxed smile appeared on his face.

‘Ah … I see the bottom. There’s a sort of … glow. A green glow … Pleasant.’

‘Yes it is, very pleasant,’ I agreed. ‘Now, I want you to walk into the glow and then through it. On the other side you’ll find that special place you’ve been looking for. A resting place, your place, where everything is fine. Safe … You’re always safe here. You can always come back to here. Nothing to hurt you.’

A surprise …

‘Yes, I’m there …’ This was followed by a gentle sigh.

‘Have a look around,’ I urged him. ‘Describe what you see.’

‘Grass … Fresh grass.’ He took a short breath, sniffing. ‘Nice smell … Tall trees … Bushes … Flowers … A stream … Running over river stones … Pools. A pond.’ Another surprise, which brings a smile to his face. ‘A waterfall … cliffs … high … blue sky … birds … white birds …’

‘Look at the cliff again. That looks like a cave there, near the waterfall.’

Slowly, ‘Yes, I see it.’

‘I want you to go into the cave. Don’t worry, it’s well lit inside. Not bright but light enough to see quite well – a bit like a cathedral, very peaceful. You can always come back again, whenever you want to. Will you do that?’

A slight hesitation and then, ‘Alright.’

‘You see, this cave is a sort of time tunnel. Once you go into it you can go back in time to wherever you want. Would you like to do that, John?’

‘Yes.’

There was another pause and he seemed quite comfortable.

‘I want you to go back to the beginning, to where it all began …’ I inadvertently paused as I reached across the desk to push the record button on my cassette recorder. I was about to add, I want you to go back to the time when the panic attacks started. But before I could continue, he began to talk very quietly.

‘I had the choice. We always have the choice, of course, although sometimes it doesn’t seem so. Every moment is filled with choices.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Travelling … In a group …’

‘Where are you travelling to?’

‘Towards a new frontier, a new dimension.’

‘Can you describe what your companions look like?’

There was a pause, almost as if he was trying to put the image into words.

‘Specks of light … We’re all just … specks of light … A bit like stars. But we can communicate with each other.’

This was not what I was expecting but as you can’t determine an outcome under these circumstances I attempted to clarify the situation.

‘Yes, but who are you with? Where are you all going?’ I gently asked, half expecting him to reveal he was moving to another state or country with friends: but no.

‘A new planet … well, relatively new. We travel together. We’d become aware of it and chose, as others have, to experience it for ourselves. It was our choice.’

‘Go on,’ I said, half expecting him to be reliving something he’d read, or maybe a Steven Spielberg film he’d seen that had affected his subconscious. ‘Just explain it in your own words.’

He continued, almost breathless at what he was experiencing. ‘It’s amazing. A sort of … vortex of energy, rhythms, vibrations … It almost feels like we’re being … sucked in … like a whirlpool. The closer we get it seems like it’s solidifying into …’ There was sudden wonderment in his voice. ‘Oh …it’s like a jewel, a glorious jewel … A glowing blue sphere … We’re going in!’

I waited, fascinated. When he spoke again his voice carried the tones of further amazement. ‘Oh, there’re such wonderful shapes and textures, colours … glorious! All sorts of … pulsating … glowing … from some kind of … force. Energy!’

‘Can you go in closer?’ I said, intrigued as to where his mind was taking us.

‘Yes. We are … Now we’re in amongst it!’ he said in wonder. ‘Flying over oceans, rivers, streams, beaches, trees, plants, mountains, open fields, deserts, huge cliffs of ice like they’ve been carved … sculptured … My God, look at the creatures! … So many … different kinds.’

There was a short pause of bewilderment as if he were studying these wonderful creatures. ‘All sorts of shapes and sizes, some slithering, swimming, walking on four legs, some on two: others are running, climbing, leaping and flying in and out and through this … amazing, living and breathing … tapestry. It’s beautiful!’

‘Can you tell me what year it is?’

A puzzled expression appeared on his face. ‘Year? I don’t understand that term.’

‘What is the date?’

There was a pause while John was apparently trying to compute what I was saying without much success so I let it pass and continued.

‘Why have you come to this new planet?’ I asked.

Almost offhandedly he replied as if it were an unnecessary question, ‘To experience it … To absorb … To learn.’

From the distracted tone of his voice, he was obviously continuing to take in all the wonderful details of this new environment.

‘What’s your name?’

‘We don’t have a name this time,’ he continued, still offhandedly. ‘We don’t need one. We’ll be given one later perhaps.’

Was he deliberately being evasive? I wondered.

‘Did anyone send you here?’

‘No, I don’t think so. We weren’t ordered or anything. We made the choice.’

‘Who’s with you?’

‘My companions.’

‘Where have you come from?’

Simply, ‘The Light.’

Chapter 2

John’s forehead was creased with the wonderment he was experiencing. He didn’t seem inclined to continue answering my questions so I said, ‘Alright, John, I’d like you to return to your secret place now, but before you do I want you to remember as much about this experience as you can. We’ll talk about it more when you’ve returned. Would that be alright?’

‘Yes, I suppose so, but do I have to leave now?’

‘Don’t worry, you can always come back. In fact, if ever you feel threatened or in danger, you can detach yourself and return to your safe place and see it all as an observer, like you’re watching a movie. You’re going to be able to absorb everything you’ve seen and experienced almost instantaneously. And you’ll be able to remember and talk about it. And it will be John expressing the experience and using his own words to describe it all. Is that alright with you?’

‘Yes, John can talk for me. He remembers.’

After a couple

Reviews for The Tourist From the Light

[lynnb_64 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is the story of George Webb, failed police officer turned private detective. His life has been turned around by one case: the murder of Mr. Nash by his wife. Mrs. Nash hired George to follow her husband, who was cheating on her. George was drawn to her, and two years later, is still totally wrapped up in her life. Graham Swift has done an outstanding job of painting a picture of George: his personality, hopes, fears and longings. The book takes place over a single day, but with flashbacks to cover George's life. The writing is fast-paced, even though this is primarily a character study. It definitely made me want to read more by this author.

[samsheep_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I gave this four stars because....I was engaged, I liked it, I kept reading, some beautiful turns of phrase, some interesting characters. It had the quality feel to it. BUT sometimes it dragged - he really spun it out a bit too much, the pacing not quite what it could be. Also a silly small thing that really grated on me - the way that he used "sweetheart" a lot when speaking to her in prison. Somehow jarred with the rest of it.

[adrianburke_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

No. I cannot get on with this. Reading it is like listening to two radio stations at the same time. Two much cross interference. And really I feel the complication is all to do with the method of telling rather than anything else. One long fragmented flashback is intercut into a boring car trip. Did not finish. Life being too short.

[coyote99_1 · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

What an awful book. Mesmerized by his own words, Swift manages to spin ever slower circles around events we already know happen with needless jumps forward and backward. Early on he decides that his tale has so little merit that his only chance is to make his narrative so confusing that the reader may mistake obfuscation for brilliance. A complete waste of time.

[booklistener · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I have mixed feelings on this book. Author painted a very convincing picture and the imagery sticks with me. On the other hand, it did seem the story moved excruciatingly slowly at times. He would dwell for a long time on the mood of a scene and then, almost in passing, mention key plot details.

[sanddancer_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Amazing! It plays with the conventions of the detective story and romance. We find out almost immediately who committed the crime, and the rest of the book is about piecing together the events that led up to it, all seen from the point of view of a detective, who has fallen in love with the murderer. That summary doesn't really do it justice. It is about relationships, secrets and love - all big themes, but it is beautifully written and griping.

[gocam_4 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Moderately more engaging than watching a slow paint dry, the book nonetheless explodes very occasionally with flashes of incendiary writing. 'Light of Day' indulges for most of its length in endless, insistent, circular, inevitable, here-again/there-again repetition surrounding a violent act that puzzles and initially intrigues and the back story detailing how our private detective protagonist ended up 'the man he is' - using a series of flash-back and -forward sequences we are led through a life that collides in a conclusion that should satisfy but rather stultifies . The form does tend to pull Webb's plight and life arc into tight focus, but honestly neither make for particularly engaging reading. As a treatment of a slow-burning drift into insular obsession the novel succeeds in generating a modicum of sympathy, but little more. Swift can write tremendously compelling almost poetic sequences (particularly when detailing the relationship with his daughter, and a cop whom he faces as nemesis then acquaintance), but they are buried deep in far too many words describing far too slight of a narrative where, frankly, there is little to care about. In reading this book I found myself at one point reminded of the power of selective repitition in Edwin Morgan's "In the Snack Bar" - a poem that achieves more in a few hundred words than this novel does in its entirety. Disappointing as I had high expectations after a punchy opening chapter, and having enjoyed "Last Orders".

[cliffagogo · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Ex-cop and private detective George Webb reflects on his past and revisits his old relationships, to find meaning in recent tragic events. The author’s knack for readable, believable dialogue makes for a compelling, addictive novel that pleases from start to finish. This, mixed with an incredible sense of structure and atmosphere, places Swift head and shoulders above the competition.

[piefuchs · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

A good book that failed to live up to the high expectation I had developed for this author based upon Last Orders.