I am riding in my car with a friend. She says, "Where is Chris?" I answer, "Chris is in the back seat."

Chris is sounds like "crisis." Two weeks later I was at the doctor’s with a crisis in my back seat. I had a kidney infection!

Another time, I had begun to have pains in my lower right side. First, I went to a doctor to have it checked but he could find no cause. So, I decided to try the castor oil packs mentioned in the Edgar Cayce readings. This consists of flannel soaked in castor oil and applied to the aching area with a heating pad. After a couple of days of my treatment I dreamed:

There is a can of hot grease on my kitchen counter. I knock it off and spill it. As it comes toward my bare right foot I pull the foot back. The hot grease doesn’t hit me.

I figured that the dream meant "knock it off," that my treatment idea had not been a "hit," that there had been a misunderstanding (feet often mean understanding). The next night I prayed: "I’ve been to the doctor. I’ve tried what I know of, but I still hurt. Please tell me what I should do." A dream came after a couple of nights of prayer—call it suggestion if you like. Before I tell the dream, a little more background is needed. Two years before this I was in an automobile accident. My car was hit from the rear and pushed into a car stopped in front of me. At the time I felt some pain in the upper back. That area was X-rayed and looked okay. The dream with the answer:

I am driving on a slow downgrade (my problem area was on the downgrade since the accident). The traffic is inching along. A small combination bolt-and-funnel-shaped object keeps popping out of a white cylinder which runs along the floorboard of my car. Suddenly I realize my brakes have given out (the problem could no longer be stopped). I pull out the pieces and the cylinder and put them on the hand truck which my car has become. There are three service stations nearby but the nearest one is a Mobil station. I have a credit card for Mobil so I go there. The mechanic tells me it will take five hours to fix my car and it will be finished at three a.m. The boss of the station is behind the counter. He says dejectedly, "I’m a chiropractor. I guess I can’t do anything. No one seems to want a chiropractor." I feel very sorry for him and so I say, "Just because I need a mechanic now doesn’t mean I won’t need a chiropractor someday. Lots of people do." "Oh, good!" he cries. Then he pulls me over the counter which has become the back seat  of  my  car.  He  begins  kissing  and  hugging  me.  I