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MY FIRST TRAVELS

I was an average child living an average life until sometime during my eighth year. After that point I was an average child living two lives. The second life was beyond my comprehension or ability to control. Waking up in that life was a terrifying attraction.

If you’ve read my short opening statements, before you arrived at this page, you’ll know a little of my past. But if you bypassed that part you’d best go back and read it now, or you’ll fall behind. Meanwhile, I’ll tell you of a typical night’s adventure when I was a child. You can read it when you get back.

AGE EIGHT

It was just before dawn when I awoke to find myself on the floor of my pitch-dark room. I was concerned that I couldn’t recall the apparent fall from my bed and I began to flail in the dark for signs of the familiar. It was as if I was grasping at water. My short unsuccessful search elevated childish concern to a panic. In desperation, I screamed for my mother. It was a strong scream, the most powerful of my life. It was also the most silent. Immediately, I shot back into my bed like a rocket. I was still screaming but there wasn’t any voice. My fear was locked behind frozen lips. My body beneath the covers was paralyzed. An electric deafening roar rumbled through me. It shook my body with aviolent grip. And then, it suddenly subsided. The vibrational roar eased off and my catatonic state simply faded away. Movement returned to my body. I was back.

DISCLAIMERS TO YOU

There are no long-term side effects to ‘traveling’ out of your body, aside perhaps from an obsession to understand this strange phenomenon. Of the possible short term side effects, most of them are fun.

SOAPBOX

I hate professional jargon. I’m referring to the numerous buzzwords and phrases that can clutter an otherwise understandable conversation. Jargonjunk makes it that much more difficult to grasp the concepts being presented.

In this book, I’ll be fixing the out of body dictionary. I’ll use only easy words and phrases that fit the concept, and I’ll be denoting them ‘like so’, while you get the hang of thinking ‘nonphysically’. You may have caught on already that I’ve been denoting since the start of this book. If so, you have a good eye for detail and will make an excellent ‘traveler’. In understanding that this book is about ‘getting out’ you will soon have a full grasp of how to do it without all the confusing claptrap.

A good example of my out of body dictionary is the word, ‘traveling’. That’s mine. When I realized years ago that I should share my work, I chose that jargon-free word because it describes exactly what you’re doing when you’re doing it. You are ‘traveling nonphysically’. You could be anywhere, from your bedroom to another town or on the moon. And although your bedroom is not far away, you’ll soon learn that even a short jaunt is a ‘nonphysical travel’ you’ll be proud of. Too bad you can’t take along a camera.

TABLE OF OUR CONTENTS

I’m just some guy with an odd talent. In the beginning my ‘travels’ just happened on their own. I was an unwitting subject. After many years of ‘traveling’ I’ve figured out how it works and how it sometimes doesn’t work. Learning to ‘travel’ doesn’t require you to believe any differently from how you do now. You can be any type of person, with any background, and still find what works most of the time. You assemble your specific combination of ‘pieces’, which results in a nonphysical travel for you, the individual.

ME AND MORE ME

As a result of years of research conducted upon me by me it appears to me that there are Seven Steps that make up an out of body ‘travel’. And if this is true for me, and all my mes’ seem to agree, then likely this is true for you too. Me has an abundance of experience and knowledge on which to speak and me is therefore correct in this instance.

YOUR TRAVEL OPTIONS

1. Ignore the following and also the previous.

2. Answer your phone, whether it is ringing or not, and say that you’re too busy not paying attention to be bothered.

3. Shake your head in vigorous disagreement to this sentence.

4. Sit in the corner. Stop fidgeting.

5. Try to see things my way, then your way, then the way a dog might see things—and lastly, a parrot.

6. Write your name on a cereal box.

7. Dance a jig.

8. Look at the sky then the ground then the sky then the ground then the sky. Hey, you’re a bobble-head!

9. Read some more of this book.

10. Keep an open mind and see where it leads you.

THE FIRST YEAR

Following my initially terrifying introduction to ‘traveling’ were more events of a similar nature. Going to bed became a contradiction in terms. It became a routine of the unknown. I was never sure where I’d ‘wake up’ while out of body. I ‘woke up’ in the neighbor’s house. I woke up at my elementary school. I woke up in the woods at the end of the block. I woke in every place of which a child’s world consists.

During my early travels my realization of what was happening arrived slowly, as if through a haze. I’d fumble around trying to discern objects that might be familiar, like a wall or a doorway. I was drawn to my neighbor’s house because I had been there before. I was the same age as their daughter who went to my school, and our parents hung out together. It was the usual set of reasons a child has for being anywhere. When I ‘awoke’ in their house, it was additionally confusing because their tract-house was designed to be exactly the opposite of my house. Like looking in a mirror, I’d turn left to enter a room and ‘run into’ a wall instead. It only become clear that I was in their house when I stumbled across one of our wacky neighbor’s vinyl-wrapped chairs. The vinyl was to protect the furniture from children and was removed for dinner parties and martini lunches. When I ‘fell’ over the chair I immediately knew where I was. And with this recognition of ‘where’ came clarity. I began to understand that I was not sleeping but I was not awake. I was moving and aware but I wasn’t in my body. It was not a dream. I was really in my neighbor’s house. My early travels were like this, a slow realization of my surroundings, and then ‘focus’.

The ‘return’ to bed was especially frightening when I first began traveling. I’d be enjoying a pleasant nonphysical stroll in the front yard when suddenly I’d be jerked back to my paralyzed physical body and a ‘vibrating’ roar that engulfed all of my senses. I was isolated from any outside events, often for more than a half hour. If the phone rang or lightning had struck, I’d never have known nor been capable of reacting.

Coping with the ‘return’ was difficult until I came to realize that it was happening whether I wanted it to or not. My only option was to maintain a patient, inquisitive attitude. After I had experienced the gripping ‘vibration’ many times I learned that it eventually faded away and that I’d be all right when it left. I became determined to do nothing. I would not struggle against it. I would discover what I could while the ‘vibration’ was present. It was a matter of forcing myself to remain as calm as possible during the storm.

From eight to nine years old I was ‘traveling’ all the time. Although I still didn’t grasp what the event was, I did learn what to expect. I began to think of the ‘travels’ as normal for me but I rarely spoke of them with family or friends. I was always disappointed by their response to my exciting tale of the ‘real dream’ from the night before. I had hoped for answers or similar stories but this quirky adventure seemed to be my game alone.

A MEMORY OF ME

I’m on my back, lying on my bed. My eyelids are shut tight. My arms and legs are locked. Nothing will move. I can’t hear anything above the roar. It keeps happening. But it doesn’t hurt. It’s just shaking me. If I don’t force myself to move I’ll learn what this is. I want to understand how this works.

THE BIG WRAP UP

At the age of twelve I found a metaphysical book at the library that had a chapter about something called “astral projection”. While I don’t care for that phrase today, at the time it was magic. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. There were others like myself. My excitement was boundless because I wasn’t alone. Since the Internet was years away from becoming what it is today, I began to search for tidbits of “astral” information in bookstores and magazines. While it was comforting to read about the topic, it didn’t take long before it occurred to me that most of it was fluff and reruns. I knew more about ‘traveling’ than I was reading. It was the impact of this realization that pushed my silent study beyond a curious fascination. The answers had become my responsibility.