in, maybe he was
just lying."

There were memories of Atmananda's recent nightmare. "Guru tried to
kill me last night," he had told me several mornings before.

"Really?" I replied, certain that Chinmoy, the peace-and-tennis-loving
Guru, would not want to hurt anyone.

"That's right," he continued. "The Guru attacked me in the dream plane
and nearly strangled me. Fortunately, I am stronger than he
is--otherwise I would now be dead!"

"Are you okay?"

"My neck and throat hurt."

But Atmananda's sore throat had not stopped him from voicing and
capitalizing on what he had dreamt.

"The Guru is attempting to destroy me," Atmananda announced to his
disciples at subsequent Centre meetings. "You need to understand that
while the Guru has lost his spiritual powers, he has not lost his
mystical powers. Until you break all mental, emotional, and psychic
attachments to him, and until you develop a powerful inner connection
with me, you will be completely vulnerable to his next round of inner
attacks. Many of you think that this is some kind of game. Just don't
come running to me when you find that all your power is gone."

Memories about Atmananda that had been suppressed for months continued
to freely flow. "Do you see how my skin glows?" he had recently asked
me.

"That means you are healthy," I had replied.

"True, but if you look closely you will see that the light from my body
is emanating from a higher plane."

There were memories of eating breakfast with Atmananda and my other
housemates. At one point during the meal, Atmananda gazed out the
window and spoke as though in a trance. "The powers," he said
repeatedly, "are coming back to me. I can now fill an entire room with
golden light. I am not who you think I am." About fifteen minutes
later, he stopped talking and went to his room.

"Is there something wrong with Atmananda?" Anne asked me as we washed
the breakfast dishes.

"Something is definitely not right," I replied. We glanced at each
other, but found it difficult to share our ideas and doubts in much
depth. We both felt indebted to Atmananda. He had managed to convince
us, separately, that had we not met him, we would now be dead. He used
this tactic on many disciples. He had also been giving Anne and me
special attention lately, and we therefore felt particularly guilty
that we had doubts about him. Then there was the climate of distrust
that he had been fostering within the Ce