Conversations with Nostradamus

We tend to view prophecy as a fixed, unchangeable verdict delivered from the future. It’s a locked room we can only peer into, never enter. But this treats the future like a finished book already on the shelf, and us as mere readers who have no choice but to turn the page. What if this entire framework is wrong? What if a prophecy is a departure point—a living, malleable warning shot fired across time, intended to be actively averted? This reframes prophecy from a passive spectacle of what will be into an urgent, participatory assignment about what could be changed. Suddenly, the seer’s vision is an invitation to a conversation—a dialogue with the future designed to rewrite it before it happens.

This exact dialogue is what hypnotherapist Dolores Cannon stumbled into over two decades. She was a regressionist using hypnosis to explore past lives, not a historian or a scholar of ancient texts. During a routine session, her subject began speaking not as a past self, but as a student of the 16th-century prophet Nostradamus, and then, as Nostradamus himself. He claimed he couldn't get his message through in his own time and was now using this unconventional channel to translate his notoriously cryptic quatrains into plain language. He was looking for collaborators to understand the warnings he failed to communicate centuries ago. Cannon, initially a skeptic, found herself drafted into the role of scribe for an ongoing, urgent conversation with a voice from history, leading to the three volumes of this work.

Module 1: The Mechanics of Cross-Time Communication

We begin with the core of Cannon's work. How is this communication even possible? The book proposes a specific framework for these extraordinary conversations. It’s about methodology.

First, the right subject is the key to unlocking the connection. Cannon couldn't just hypnotize anyone. She needed individuals capable of reaching a somnambulistic state. This is a very deep level of trance, almost like sleepwalking. In this state, the conscious mind's chatter fades away. The subject's awareness is freed from the body. Cannon found that the subject's energy also had to be compatible with Nostradamus. For example, Nostradamus once requested a male subject. He felt his energy meshed better with a man's.

And here's the thing. Even with the right subject, the connection is fragile. One subject, Phil, was an excellent channel. But he was also highly sensitive to negative energy. When asked to interpret a prophecy about terrorism, he felt the event's emotional charge. It was too disturbing. His subconscious mind slammed the door shut, forcibly ending the trance. This highlights a critical principle. The well-being of the subject is the highest priority. Cannon never pushed past these protective barriers. If a subject showed distress, she would pivot the session's objective or end it. Her work was guided by a strict ethical code.

So what happens when a connection is made? Communication occurs telepathically through concepts, not words. The subject doesn't suddenly start speaking 16th-century French. Instead, Nostradamus transmits pure concepts, images, and feelings. The subject’s mind then wraps the closest modern words around these concepts. This explains how the language barrier is bypassed. It's a direct mind-to-mind link. The process is like tuning a radio to a specific frequency. Once tuned, the information flows.

This leads to a fascinating side effect. The psychic link can remain open even after the session ends. One subject reported feeling Nostradamus's presence for days. He could sense the seer looking through his eyes at the modern world. Nostradamus was observing our cars, televisions, and magazines with a state of idle curiosity. This suggests the connection is a two-way street, a porthole through time that can linger. Cannon's entire method relies on this strange but consistent phenomenon, repeated across multiple subjects over many years.

Module 2: The Man Behind the Myth

Now let's turn to the figure of Nostradamus himself. The sessions paint a portrait of a complex, isolated, and burdened man. He was far from the mystical, all-knowing sage of legend. He was a human being grappling with an extraordinary and terrifying ability.

The conversations reveal that Nostradamus was a man out of time, isolated by his own intellect. Cannon’s subjects described him as brilliant, but also impatient and sometimes cruel. He had little tolerance for what he saw as stupidity. This intellectual arrogance, combined with his visionary abilities, left him profoundly alone. He couldn't discuss his visions openly. The Inquisition was a real and present danger. Speaking of the future could get him branded a heretic and burned at the stake. This is why he sought contact with the future. He needed validation. He wanted to know if his visions were true prophecies or just the imaginings of a troubled mind.

This brings us to the famous quatrains. Nostradamus intentionally wrote in a cryptic, symbolic style for his own protection. The obscure language, the mix of Latin and Greek, the anagrams—it was all a defense mechanism. He had to disguise his work to survive. But there was another reason. He wanted to ensure only those with sufficient knowledge could decipher the true meaning. He feared causing mass panic or being blamed for the disasters he foresaw. The prophecies were puzzles by necessity.

Furthermore, the book suggests Nostradamus used unconventional tools to enhance his natural psychic abilities. He wasn't just staring into a bowl of water. Subjects described him using plant-based substances, like morning glory seeds, to achieve expanded states of consciousness. He experimented with dosages, seeking to journey out of his body to observe events in time more directly. He also used a special oval mirror and a copper "compass-type" instrument on maps to gain more specific information. These tools focused and amplified an ability he'd had since childhood.

Ultimately, these sessions reveal a man driven by a profound sense of duty. Nostradamus felt a heavy responsibility to warn humanity. He saw his visions as a divine gift. To ignore them would be to squander his talent. He experienced the future events emotionally. He felt the pain and the horror. This "burden of the future" was a prison of his own making. He was trapped by what he knew, and he dedicated his life to recording it in the hope that we, in the future, might listen.