Awareness of the Desert
Resting in bed just before drifting off to sleep, awake but with very few thoughts in my mind, I noticed just off to the left side of my vision a very small and fuzzy shape in the air, a blurry and undefined dark spot that attracted my attention. It was so small that I had to nearly squint to see it better.
As I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, what it was exactly, it began to increase in size. It seemed that as my attention drew closer to it, it was spreading out and growing bigger and bigger, but still it was just a blurry spot, darker than all that was around it. I could see the bedroom however, and I knew that I was just laying in bed. Yet that spot was becoming more and more important. I knew or felt that there was something there, something to see if only I could make sense of it. So I kept staring, looking at it, trying to see the details that I thought were there, if only it wasn’t so blurry and puzzling.
As I kept my attention on it, the dark area around the center of the spot grew large enough so that I could see a scene begin to unfold. Without any sense of movement in my resting body, and still feeling relaxed and at ease, I began to move towards it, towards that scene, yet still seeking to know what that spot was.
I saw the scene that was unfolding as a desert, with light-brown sand and sandy hills, the kind of dunes with peaks and wind-blown crests that look sharp like waves. It was daytime. As far as I could see, there were dunes and dunes and dunes disappearing into a mountainous distance. Still there was that one pin-point spot remaining, and I tried to focus on what it exactly was. It was just floating there, hanging somewhere over the dunes, and I was gliding towards that spot still some distance away.
Slowly I got closer to it, gliding through the air it seemed, and I saw that the spot of blurry darkness was on top of one of the dunes—whatever it was. I came close enough to know that it was a bundle of some sorts. It had a definite shape. As I got closer still, I saw that it was a body. Someone’s body was there. Closer yet, and the body I saw and realized was mine. It was me on that hilltop, lying on that dune. I was fully and completely there.
At that moment I was tired and exhausted, and helpless to move because I had no energy left in me. I looked over to my left, and I saw a road going off into the distance, upwards and disappearing behind some mountains. There was a shelter of sorts on the road. Something that was there for travellers to rest and find cover from the sun and heat. I was several hundred of feet from it. I thought, “If ever I had been there, I apparently had wondered off from its protection”.
I saw then two figures, fully covered in heavy armor that was of an ancient Chinese or Japanese design, walking side by side. I could see no flesh of arms or hands. Even their eyes were hidden by the darkness of their helmets. They wore spiked gloves, spiked armor, and appeared dangerous. They looked like Samurai warriors, and they each carried a long metal staff, three-pronged spears perhaps eight feet long, carrying them upwards in hand. I had no fear, for what fear could I offer to them that they needed to fear me in return, or offer me violence? Such was the nature of my thinking. I was too weak for anyone to bother with.
They approached, concerned about who I was and what I was doing out here, or so I thought or imagined or knew. I spoke: “Please, I have been out here for so long. Help me.”
Even though they were cautious, and I thought confused about how or why someone would be out here far away from the shelter, the one to the left reached into his pack at his side and pulled out a jug. “Water?” I wondered, “Is it water?” The jug was dark, made of glass, and I couldn’t see what color the fluid was. I grew concerned. “Should I drink? Is it safe?”
The armored warrior began to bring the jug towards my face while the other remained still, and even though I was still struggling to see what color the fluid was, I leaned my head back to accept it. As I did so, at the same exact moment that I tilted my head backwards I continued to fall backwards, falling right back into my body in my bedroom.
—-The scene and the blurry spot was gone. I was fully aware of my surroundings and myself. I had never even lost my normal state of awareness or thinking. It was such a smooth transition from here to there and back again, and being awake when it started and staying awake when it was over, never for one moment losing coherence or my normal mode of thinking, I can only think of it as something like a projection into another world, or perhaps a projection into another level of awareness.
As if the mind has many different frequencies that it can operate on, depending upon what happens in daily life or how much energy or intensity one has to use, the mind or normal state of awareness can switch “levels”, the focus of the mind can shift and can perceive something that usually isn’t concentrated upon or even acknowledged. If other worlds exist simultaneously with this one as some would contend, then getting a glimpse should be enough to convince a person that there is something marvelous and incredible just out of reach, there to be experienced and explored. For me however, I took the entire affair with a grain of salt. I have no reliable authorities to consult or to question, and no one to say exactly what it was. I am only left with the evidence of my personal experience, and that is enough for me. That, and something to remember always.
Out-of-Body, a Talker, and the Quiet Man
Flying around the top of the walls of the bedroom , in a dream but aware that I am moving from wall to wall, bouncing past the corners and gliding past the sharp edges, around and around and around I go, and where I stop or start to slow—is at the windowsill.
Settling down, gathering my wits and my thoughts, I notice the colors streaming through the blinds, dancing sparkles of colors yet to be reproduced in this world of limited sight—colors too amazing to describe. Vibrant colors that are alive nearly and that make all color in everyday life seem muted or dead by comparison. The typical stuff though, nothing new about seeing incredible colors of light in an out-of-body experience.
I slow down because of the colors, wanting to see more of them, wanting to understand or to know something about what’s going on. My dream-body (the “astral body” as people have called it) begins to descend, its wild rolling and flying about the room having ended, and with only my interest in the colored streams of light to occupy it, it has nothing to do. It gets bored I think, so it descends and wants to come back to my physical body.
It does, but I am aware of it. It sinks in, returns to where I had thought that I was the entire time, and as I awaken fully I hear this buzzing sound that arises from where my feet are. Since I am lying down I tilt my head just so, in order to see my feet and to see what is making all that racket, and I am aware of a billion billion small buzzing “voices”, each voice humming and buzzing their own little sound. To me it is far away and is exactly the sound of buzzing bees, all of these “voices” separate but the same. Each unique but the same.
I notice the similarity. I try to hold my attention on them, and the individual voices then group together—so instead of a billion billion voices, now there are less, say, a million billion, now a little bit louder or stronger. Still so many though, but less in number. The process repeats—they group together again, the number of individual voices decreases and they grow more distinct or more prominent. Now say, only a billion. Then , repeat the process—they group together again, grow less in number, and are more distinct. They become more unique from my point of view, from way up in my head and the brain-center area. They seem some distance away, and now the numbers really decrease.
They group together during one of these phases so much that they could almost be counted. And again, and again, until finally it’s done. There is only one grouped voice all together now. The buzzing sound has dissipated. For some reason I turn and look to my left, and there he is—an African-American man who’s been talking the entire time. Going on and on about something I have no idea about.
He’s seated in a chair. I get the impression that he’s in a wheelchair. My view is as if I am standing and he is below. He’s looking to his left at me, talking, and I am seeing him from a higher point of view. He’s wearing a green Army jacket so I think he’s a wounded veteran. He’s on a street somewhere—we both are. There is a sidewalk behind him, a big city scene. But crazy—man is he crazy! And he won’t shut up, always talking all the time about something or another to anyone who passes his way. At least that’s the impression I got.
It’s a shadowy-kind of image, there but not there. I know he’s been telling me something the entire “time” i was experiencing the buzzing sounds but I haven’t listened. I’m trying myself to make sense of this quick event or whatever is happening. I have no clue who he is. And there, just as I begin to look away and turn my head, behind the shadowy image of this crazy black man is a Native American man.
A silent figure, all still and poised, saying nothing, just looking straight ahead at me. It’s only a brief glimpse and difficult to see, but I see him there. He’s the one to see. He’s the one to remember, his image “behind” the other image before it faded, and nearly lost to me. I almost miss it. Almost.
———In hindsight, it was like a study of contrasts, one talkative and crazy as a loon, and the other silent but filled with majestic grandeur. The voices: the smallest “particles” I could perceive, aware in their own right, all grouping up, fairly obvious. All building into more and become more and more. The physical flesh and blood physical body as a unit unto itself, having its own body-consciousness, it own “mind” or self-consciousness and abilities, with the individual personality-self, the “I” or ego-self, the most outer portion of human personality, riding atop all that commotion and activity.
The grouping that I witnessed took place to show how the body arranges itself, and when the pace quickened, when the groupings really became more progressive, it was like the forming of the physical organs and their respective systems. Circulatory, skeletal, muscular, digestive—all those systems that have the organs we know of, they “jump the pack”, they out-pace the individual components. A bunch of small units become substantially larger ones. The systems however are interrelated, and spread throughout the physical body. Obviously.
From the smallest unperceived unit, when the “nonphysical” becomes manifested as physical, those small units group together with others to form “in the beginning” slightly larger units, barely considerable as physical matter, still “small”, and those units form others slightly larger, and on and on, physical matter becoming manifested, until we finally get to the “known” sub-atomic particles. And those go on to eventually form atoms, and then cells, then tissues, then on and on until organs and then the systems themselves. All cooperating into a gestalt of organization, the pinnacle which is the human personality allied with the body. (The time-sequence doesn’t really exist like that—-I’m only using it as an example to help explain what happens “all the time”. Energy exists in all its forms and manifestations. Time, as we experience it, is a convenience, a way to perceive what is outside our comprehension.)
As a person isn’t their toe or foot or hand or arm, so then the individual isn’t the whole combination of all those other smaller units. Instead, it is the result of the cooperative venture that takes place, in which the human identity “rides upon” that which composes its physical being. This is one part of it, and there is more but that can be saved for later. Hint: there is always “something” that isn’t manifested into physical reality. There is always more that remains unknown or unexpressed. Think—soul, spirit, or God if you will. There remains that which isn’t known or cannot be fully materialized and expressed. So it is with the human personality. It isn’t completely “here” but rather is always becoming, always being manifested. It cannot be completely expressed in one framework of reality. There is always more.
The experienced event—quite simple really. Obvious, and common-sense when you think about it. The automatic processes that go on without conscious intervention or direction, they take place because the body knows how to maintain itself. The event merely showed the organization that exists, and where I am in all that. The body, what a miracle!
Fall into a coma—the body “spirit” is kicking out the mind, so to speak, moving the daily awareness out of the way, so it can heal itself without intervention from the personality. Get a scratch—the body sends its resources there to begin the healing. Major artery cut—the body stops the blood flow to that region, in order to preserve life, its very own life. These things happen without awareness or direction. Just a few simple examples though. How about breathing, the heartbeat, or lifting a finger? Digestion? Some things occur beyond conscious direction or focus.
The miracle of the body and its natural healing ability is hardly known. Of course, to be a hard case, how could we hope to know it, when we still cut into ourselves or allow others to, in order to initiate the healing process, something which the body can do on its own naturally? The first cut into another living being, whether it is a frog, dog, cat, or monkey, and we just stepped away from the natural state of being and Life. We do have a long way to go to reach such idealizations of living and existence, to be able to heal naturally ourselves and help others to heal, but taking or harming another life-form, you just made the journey back all that much longer.
The Bouncing Ball
I can never forget the bouncing ball vision and the result, something that happened as I began to drift off to sleep but caught myself before taking the plunge and what happened then.
Lying in bed, flat on my back, gazing at the ceiling, an image formed there: I see a young boy, running from left to right across the ceiling, as if he was projected onto the very surface. He is chasing a ball that was bouncing away, all playfully it seemed. The details weren’t really important enough to gain my attention, it was the action that mattered. He was lightly running along, and I see that he is in a hallway. As the young boy continues, I seem to get closer to the vision/images, that is, it grows larger to my perception.
The bouncing ball then takes a 90 degree turn to the left, and goes further back, goes deeper. It had cut the corner and entered a new hallway that branched off from the first one. My attention is now on that ball, how it bounces quite high, large skips, covering a great amount of space as it goes on. This new hallway takes on definition. It is impressive, looks like it is inside a great mansion or some such. I can see large framed paintings on the walls, the frames bold and ostentatious as rich people are prone to use. Very showy. A small table on the right side of the hall.
Now the ball is getting further along, it is nearing the end of the hallway. It’s going to a dead-end I think. But there, on that end-point is another large painting, one that takes up nearly the entire wall. An outdoor scene, great rolling green hills, hills so exaggerated that they looked like something in a cartoon. The ball bounced into the painting, not missing a stride or anything, just right in and then start going over the hills. Disappearing from sight when it is on the backside of a hill, then showing up as it begins to bounce over the next one, further and further away.
This was the stopping-point for me. I don’t know the reason why, but I stopped. I started to bring my awareness back to myself. I was retreating from the vision. I snapped back basically. So much, so quickly or with such volition, that the bed I was lying upon bounced! The entire top mattress recoiled, shook, bounced. I sprang straight up out of bed.
This was a time when I was staying with the parents in BC. Pop was in the living room watching some television. I know I had to look like a madman. I was breathing heavy, shock on my face, I was shocked. I don’t remember what I said to him but I played it off.
Shortly thereafter, within a few minutes, I returned to my room. I actually tried to recreate the bounce that I saw and felt on the mattress. Tried all kinds of ways. Flexing my feet and head at once, everything I could, lying there trying to explain to myself that I merely jumped or lurched and that was that. Didn’t work. There was no physical way I could get the bed to move like it did. This was a small bed, with alot of spring in it. I tried and tried but couldn’t get it to bounce. Not through any physical act on my part. And that right there, is the secret of what happened.