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 and more than 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 body, 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 light-streams to occupy it, it has nothing to do. It gets bored I think, so it descends and wants to come back to the 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 whose 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 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 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. An image “behind” the other image before it faded, and nearly lost to me. I almost miss it.
———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, all grouping up, fairly obvious. All building into more and become more and more. The body as a unit unto itself, having its own body-consciousness, it own “mind” or self-consciousness and abilities, with the individual personality-self 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.
From the smallest unperceived unit, when the “nonphysical” becomes manifested as physical, those unknowable units form “in the beginning” slightly larger units, barely considerable as physical matter, still unknowingly 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. (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 than 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 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 your 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 you 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, but taking or harming another life-form, you just made the journey back all that much longer.