Jennie's Reprisal: A Soul's Evolution from Atlantis to Eternity

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Carol Bennett is a radio personality, distinguished Excellence in Government Fellow and in the Edgewood Hall of Fame. She holds BS and MBA Degrees in Communication from the American University. Carol retired early from an executive position at the National Aeronautics & Space Administration to complete this socially urgent, 92,000 word manuscript.

Carol Bennett's Chesapeake Moon shines on WRYR 97.5 FM, Mondays 9-10 PM ET. Edgar Mitchell, Apollo 14 Astronaut, Institute of Noetic Sciences: "There are no unnatural or supernatural phenomena, only very large gaps in our knowledge of what is natural. We should strive to fill those gaps of ignorance." Call in your questions ... free readings. Carol will confirm your past and predict your future. Share your supernatural experiences with Chesapeake Bay region listeners. Call 410.867.9677 to participate in this metaphysical, mystical radio talk-show. If the line is busy, redial every four minutes until you get through. Listen to Chesapeake Moon live, Mondays 9-10 PM ET, on the Internet at WRYR.org.

A seasoned and gifted speaker, Carol combines her years with NASA (outer space), with her natural appreciation and understanding of the spiritual realm (inner space). Her teachings reflect esoteric principles, laws and values that bring about wellness. Carol's practical, solution finding approach enables her to guide groups and individuals to change necessary for success. Stimulating, provocative presentations, on topics that foster healthy hearts, will educate and inspire listeners with gentle humor and new perspectives. These presentations are designed to fit organizational needs, from informal events to national conferences.

Carol's most popular topics allow individuals to see the value of thinking beyond conventional concepts of time, space, and consciousness: (1) From NASA to Novelist: How I Got Off The Fast Track And Onto My Spiritual Path, (2) Women's Rights: The Ultimate Lesson In Gender Equity, (3) Reincarnation & Genetic Inheritance: My Personal Story, and (4) Noetic Travels: Ancient Rituals That Confirm The Past and Project The Future.

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Just finished JENNIE'S REPRISAL, and I LOVED it! I cried over the depressing parts, cried over the happy parts, got goosebumps numerous times and, of course, cried some more. So many parts of the book hit right home. I have been turning more toward self-sustaining life practices and relying less upon technology and such things as the media, relying more on intuition and what just feels right. JENNIE'S REPRISAL takes everything I've ever wondered about, or been mad or happy about, and made it readable and interesting without turning it into an unbelievable mushy fairy tale or been-there-done-that self-help book. I am very glad that Carol Bennett followed her path to write this book, as it's helped me to grow. How, I don't know yet, but something's different! --S.tephanie H.ager E.nterprises

I read JENNIE'S REPRISAL in a day, couldn't do anything else. Carol Bennett should be on every reviewer's list nationwide. I found myself locked into Bennett's novel early by her descriptions of Chesapeake Bay, probably because of my introduction to it through James Mitchener (a literary idol of mine). For all his talent though, I wondered why Mitchener dropped his finely-wrought characters at their death. In JENNIE'S REPRISAL, Bennett accomplished what seems to be such a crying need for the growth of the profession, in telling the story of a soul rather than a single personality. Bravo for taking us to Atlantis. Some time from now, when many people can dream the way Carol Bennett does, Atlantis issues (resolved and unresolved) will be a common genre. Thank you for publishing Carol Bennett. --Steven M. Webb, Author

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"We are all different, Jennie, because we have different gifts. And, although I think your dreams about Raimone are just fanciful, do not share them with anyone. Such talk will be forbidden, like the fiend of lust." My sister's caution made me want to dream and scheme all the more. My images of Raimone were so real; I knew it was my fate to be in love with him. Atlantis:

Raimone's fingertips brushed the line of my jaw as he left to penetrate the Atlantic shoreline. Raising my hand to the place he had touched, I whispered, "Raimone," knowing he was the Raimone of my dreams. Raimone stood unmoving in the surf, contrasted against the bounding blue of the ocean, in a meditative trance-like prayer. He was oblivious to my presence as I studied every muscle and sinew in his near naked body. He was holding his head high and proud. His broad shoulders and arms were bulging with strength. His back and legs were strong and straight. Circling slowly, savoring, absorbing his image, I could not stop myself from staring.

While my eyes were focused on Raimone, he chanted to the great Atlantic, "You are nature's womb-the womb of Atlantis. Your wide horizon opens my mind, soothes my spirit. You sustain my life and ask nothing in return." As if waiting for a response from the ocean, he gazed forward, the bleached tips of his lashes swept over his cheeks when he squinted in the strong sunlight. Raimone consciously inhaled inspiration and exhaled relaxation, surrender, and trust. Suddenly the calm left his presence. His breath quickened. His nipples became hard with excitement. The full pouch of his loincloth swelled with astonishing force. A tremor of passion rippled through him as he walked into the waves, knelt, and consecrated himself with salty residue: his face, his neck, and his heart. At that moment, looking into the clear water, his soul split. Raimone's reflection became his feminine aspect: Eleasod.

Separating, extracting this part of himself, at first everything was cloudy. Then my amorphous mass fleetingly coalesced into translucent flesh. I became opaque and tangible-no longer watching my daydream, I was living the dream. As Raimone reached into the water and held my hand, lifting me into his earthly paradise, he said, "I have been searching for you since the beginning of time. At long last, you stand before me, waves and wind tossing your thick, dark hair. You ascend from the ocean in a glorified body of another dimension. Oh statuesque creature of bronze skin and magnetic eyes, you are my Eleasod. Your inner beauty transcends the purity of your physical beauty. We are divinely linked in body, mind, and spirit."

Raimone's green eyes were glimmering as he visually searched my tight garment, with its one shoulder strapped capturing the right bosom. Seemingly probing into my heart, he stared at my left bosom as its nipple greeted his vision quest. Peering lower, he rested on my womb before retreating to my rope sandaled feet to visually rouse my red-painted toes. His gaze was climbing, returning. I quivered from the massage of his eyes over my womb-back and forth from my left hand to my right. The red paint on my handnails smoldered. Raimone's stare shifted again, to the gold rings and bracelets surrounding my naked arms and legs. Awaiting his touch, I climaxed in the enrapturing probe. As he encircled my neck with a luminous lapis lazuli, our eyes met and he vowed to have me for all of time and eternity.

"Jennie," Elsie called, with her usual propensity for barging into my reverie, "Come help me unhook Aunt's dress. I have to return it." Once again, I reluctantly let the paragon fade from focus. However, I had a new comprehension accompanying the images of Atlantis, and that did not fade. I had a great belief in that which was past life--belief that I had lived during the lifetime of Raimone. I brought with me into this lifetime the knowledge that I had been Eleasod. My glimpses into the lives of Raimone and Eleasod were a part of my memories, not my imagination. With a newly found sense of eerie maturity, I explained to Elsie, "I think I just saw the birth of my soul. I came from the Raimone of my dreams. Could he have been from Atlantis?"

"I do declare, Jennie, you have gone mad. How am I supposed to know if your Raimone exists or where he is from? And do not ask the brethren or you will have to do penance for a month for blasphemy--Atlantis is not in the Bible. Anyhow, if you keep carrying on, you will soon be ready for more confinement than a corset."

Running into the house and upstairs to my room, I threw open the window and turned to the mirror on my dressing table. Leaning close to the glass, I thoughtfully inspected the place on my face that still felt the impression of Raimone's fingertips. Was I Jennie Gravatt of 1912, having lucid dreams of being Eleasod in Atlantis? Or was I Eleasod dreaming that I was Jennie? Like the girl who dreamed she was a butterfly who dreamed she was a girl, I wondered whose dream I was in.