Despite my reservations about contacting the dead, I agree to fly to London and meet up with Perry Landers who will be financing our expedition.
I doubt he has information that will help us find the Necromanteion—the temple the ancients used to contact deceased loved ones.
But what's more to the point I'm dubious about the man himself. Who knows if he's a flim flam man who has concoted a wild story for his own personal gain?
The jury's out on that matter.
Astrid and I plan to spend a night getting to know Landers at his Cotswolds estate before jetting off to Greece. At least, that’s the plan.
When we got to his estate in the Cotswolds hills, it resembles an exclusive spa, rather than an Arcadian retreat.
An ornate, gold painted sign at the estate gate announces Landers is hosting weekend retreats called Reunions.
Apparently Landers has developed a sophisticated virtual reality system as a psychomanteum to facilitate communication with the dead.
It’s ironic in a way. There’s evidence of Neolithic settlement in the hills nearby as evinced from burial chambers on the Cotswold Edge. This business of consorting with the dead has been going on here a good long time.
But Astrid and I are completely taken aback by the large number of people who are making a pilgrimage to the villa in the hope of contacting a deceased loved one.
Now even Astrid is beginning to suspect Landers might be a flim flam man, but when we meet him over dinner, our fears are allayed.
We see a man haunted by loss and obsessed with contacting his dead wife.
“After dinner, I’d be glad to give you a tour of the facility,” he tells us, “I’ve made every effort to facilitate a reunion between living and dead.”
Astrid seems fascinated, but I’m still a bit skeptical. I decide to challenge him.
“But isn’t a Psychomanteum simply a mirrored room set up to communicate with the dead—and didn’t Raymond Moody describe these in his books on near-death experiences?”
Landers chuckles affably. “On one level, I suppose you’re right. Anybody can go into a darkened room with a mirror and try it—but I go one step further. I tailor the experience to the individual.”
“But how do you do that?” Astrid seems totally absorbed in the topic.
Landers takes a sip of wine, leans back in his chair and patiently explains the process.
“Let’s say a man wants to relive a precious moment with a departed spouse. And let’s say he remembers one time in particular. He gives us the date and time and location and then, using a computer program we try to replicate the conditions to facilitate re-establishing the connection with the loved one.”
Astrid frowns for a moment and then asks, “What if it involved lying under the stars in the desert, in the land of Nod—could you replicate that?”
My heart begins to pound—it’s a sacred memory for me—and now, I can see it is for her as well.
“Recreating that experience would be easy. We’d simulate the temperature, humidity, wind speed and direction—the smell of the sand and even the configuration of the stars. You’d think you were right back there with Paul—or, with whomever you shared the experience.”
“It was Paul,” Astrid says quickly, and then stares at me with her huge brown eyes.
I feel warmth spread through my chest. I smile back.
Maybe it’s the wine, but the atmosphere in the room grows mellow and I have to ask Landers the question preying on my mind.
“If you can relive these memories with Susi, why do you need to finance an expedition to search for the Necromanteion?”
He doesn’t flinch. “I don’t want to just remember, or even relive—I want to commune with her.”
A silence falls among the three of us. I have my answer.
