Eyes of an Angel Read online

  As I floated near the ceiling, my daughter Stacey came to mind. Her bedroom was directly above David's. Traveling straight up through the floor, I was soon hovering over her bed.

  We were so proud of our little girl. Pretty and petite, Stacey had the dedication, intelligence, and perseverance to accomplish anything that she wanted in life. She possessed such great inner strength and, at the same time, a wonderful sensitivity to others. At eleven, she was entering that awful hormone stage of life. We were often amazed and amused at the transformation taking place before us. One moment, she would be our sweet little girl singing her dollies to sleep. The next she would become a mature young lady trying to convince her mother that she was definitely old enough to stay at Alicia's party until 10 P.M.

  I was about to move closer so I could see more of that dimpled little face, when a huge spasm suddenly jolted through me and, in an instant, I snapped back into my body.

  What could possibly have happened? Opening my eyes, I sat up. Candace was now facing in the other direction. She must have turned over in her sleep, bumping my body as she withdrew the arm that had been lying across my chest. Disappointed at being forced back so soon, I still rejoiced at having been able to go out-of-body again.

  For several minutes, I lay in bed processing the experience. It had been a great outing. Finally I got up and, retracing my journey through the house, I ended up in our children's bedrooms. I thanked God for sharing these wonderful little souls. I knew that when the time was right, I would have to tell them about the astonishing events taking place in my life.

  Encouraged by this small success, I renewed my efforts to find a reliable way to achieve an out-of-body state. Every night, before going to sleep, I experimented with various methods. Some I had read about, others I thought up. But nothing seemed to work. As the weeks dragged by, my obsession grew. It was, however, becoming more like work than pleasure.

  As summer approached, my wife began preparations for a trip to Quebec where she had enrolled in a French language-immersion program. Crawling into bed a few nights before her departure, Candace asked me if I had seen her umbrella. She had searched the house without any luck. I couldn't recall having seen it for months. Speculating that we had probably left it somewhere she sighed, “Well, I guess I'd better go out and buy a new one.” With those last thoughts, I drifted off to sleep.

  As if awakening from some obscure dream, I suddenly realized that I was staring at the umbrella. It was lying on a closet shelf in front of me. My awareness bolted to attention.

  There was no question: this was her umbrella. I reached out to grab it. Swish—my hand swept right through the handle. “Oops!” It hadn't registered on my sleepy mind that I was no longer in my body. Momentarily puzzled, I wondered how this could have happened without my being aware of it. I decided it didn't matter. The important thing was I had found the umbrella. I couldn't wait to tell Candace.

  In a flash, I snapped back into my body. “Honey,” I gushed. “I found the umbrella!” Then it hit me. I hadn't the slightest clue as to where I'd been. All I knew for certain was that someone else now owned our umbrella, and it would probably stay that way. I continued with dismay to tell Candace the story, admitting that in my enthusiasm I had foolishly bolted out of the closet without knowing where I was. After considerable giggling, we finally fell asleep. I was going to have to learn how to contain my excitement.

  Again, I had to grapple with something new. Without warning, I had been instantaneously transported to an unknown location without any awareness that I was not in my body. How had this happened?

  As summer matured, I grew more practiced at producing out-of-body experiences, but I was still far from being able to make it happen at will. Occasionally, I would feel the choppy, fluttering vibrations starting in the center of my chest, before moving slowly into the rest of my body. I would try to gain control, attempting to step up the frequency to a higher pitch. But it always seemed so difficult to maintain. More often than not, the vibrations would eventually fade, and frustrated, I would fall asleep.

  Fortunately, every now and then, I would find myself briefly dozing off, then abruptly snapping back to the awareness of intense vibrations already coursing through my body. I would hear a familiar, high-pitched tone and simply wish myself into the air. Then, after checking on my body, I would be off on another adventure. I didn't know why, but I always looked back at my body. It wasn't necessary, but I felt compelled to do it.

  On one of those occasions, I happened to be cruising through the kitchen looking for something to do. When I spotted the fridge, I had an idea. Poking my head through the door, I checked for any leftover dessert I could eat when I finished my excursion. For some reason, the darkness inside the fridge caught me by surprise. Reminded of a silly old joke, I had to chuckle at my expectation that the light would automatically switch on. After a few amusing moments, I simply stated my intension to see better and, in an instant, I could identify every object in the fridge. Unfortunately, there was no dessert. But I soon returned in my physical body to gobble up the leftover ham and scalloped potatoes.

  In the early stages, I felt safer staying within the familiar walls of my home, but soon that became boring. One night near the end of summer, I awoke from a deep sleep to the pressure of rapidly escalating vibrations. Looking up, I found I could see right through the ceiling into the night sky. A beautiful full moon beckoned, and I decided that it was about time I sucked up my courage and ventured outdoors.

  Floating effortlessly to the ceiling, I wondered what it would feel like to go through that yucky, itchy fiberglass insulation in the attic. With some nervousness, I moved slowly through the ceiling into the attic space. The insulation was hardly noticeable. Relieved, I continued up through the top of the rafters. A moment later, I was standing on the roof.

  The freedom was exhilarating. Delighted with the ease of the maneuver, I thought how wonderful it would be to float up into the sky. Impelled by this simple thought, I lifted off of the roof and ascended. Rising to about a hundred feet, I stopped and hovered. I could see the entire neighborhood. It was after midnight, so very few houses were lit. I mused about how freaked out my neighbors would be if they only knew what was happening in the sky above them.

  Slowly, I moved higher, stopping at around five hundred feet. It was beautiful. Lights were visible from miles around. I thought it might be fun to take an aerial tour of the city, but just as I began to move down the block, a strange tugging sensation began to draw me back to my body. I didn't want to end the experience, but the tugging was persistent. When I could no longer resist, I gave in, surrendering to the pull. In an instant, I slammed back into my body with such force that it shook the bed. It was no big deal, as it turned out, just my bladder begging to be relieved.

  The next opportunity came sooner than expected. Just three days later, too tired to think about spiritual journeys, I flopped into bed and immediately fell asleep. Less than an hour later, I awoke to a shrill frequency resonating in my ears. Sleepily, I closed my eyes and mentally recited my little prayer for assistance and protection. The sound in my ears seemed to intensify as I tried to gain control. Perhaps, I thought, I could use the sound as a trigger to evoke the necessary increase in vibrations. Experimenting, I found I was able to control its intensity, but could detect little change in my inner body vibration. After a while, when I could no longer maintain my concentration, I gave up, and simply fell asleep. Unexpectedly, just a few moments later, I again jerked back into full consciousness. The sound was now a high-pitched squeal. A strong vibration flowed through my body. I was ready for another journey.

  Deciding to take it slower this time, I floated leisurely to the ceiling. Skimming horizontally, I was heading for the bedroom door when I decided to try something different. Changing directions, I plunged through the north wall of my bedroom. Expecting to come out the other side near the high open ceiling of the living room, I found myself, instead, in a small, darkened space, about four feet
long and two feet wide. There was a large metal pipe in the middle of it.

  It took me a few seconds to figure out where I was. I had forgotten the large fireplace chimney on the other side of the wall. As I drifted inside the brick enclosure, I realized that my arm and part of my right shoulder were imbedded in the chimney pipe. I pulled back in disgust. Imagining how black and dirty my hand and arm were going to be, I pushed through the stone mantel into the living room. My arm, of course, was perfectly clean. I began to laugh at how bizarre and silly the whole thing was. When every touchstone of our reality is based in the physical world, it's difficult to leave old concepts behind.

  Soot or no soot, I was going to enjoy this outing. Rather than going up through the roof, I decided this time to exit through the front wall of the house into the street. I slid easily through the inner wall and the outer brick facade. But as I was coming out the other side, something struck me as odd. I was sure that I had automatically closed my eyes as I passed through the wall. I wondered if I could ever get used to the differences between the astral and material worlds.

  Everything was strange. To begin with, I wasn't sure how I was able to see. Obviously, it wasn't through my physical eyes. I decided to pay more attention to these pesky little physical quirks.

  Propelled by a small burst of energy, I floated out into the quiet street and up into the night sky. Stunningly beautiful, the sky appeared to have a special glow. As several clouds floated nearby, I noticed what appeared to be an energy halo around them. It reminded me of the aurora borealis. Shades of luminous blue, pink, and violet began to swirl, merge, and dance together in a brilliant display of choreography.

  Captivated, I watched in awe, my attention drawn to the iridescence of one cloud. It seemed to be increasing in brightness and intensity, becoming more and more animated. Suddenly, a terrific flash lit up the sky. A dazzling arc of blue-white light erupted from the bottom of the cloud and slammed into the ground. Startled, I realized it was nothing more than lightning. But in my out-of-body state, it was a sight to behold. I hadn't noticed the approaching thunderstorm, but the developing view was sensational. I could actually see electrical energy building up in the cloud before it exploded into the ground.

  I studied the sky as the same cloud began to sparkle and dance, building in intensity once more. Soon it was a boiling vortex of power. I watched intently as the shimmering energy, swirling like a miniature hurricane, slowly edged its way to the top of the cloud. The bubbling formation arched across the top towards the center, and then, like a whirlpool draining through a funnel, collapsed in on itself, firing off a bolt of electricity into the ground below. Strangely, a jagged arc of orange light seemed to erupt simultaneously from the ground, leaping into the air to greet the incoming charge.

  It was beautiful. I would never again look at a prairie thunderstorm in the same way, and I thanked God for this wonderful gift. If this was what it was like to be an angel, if this was what angels were able to see, then I wanted to be an angel.

  As I continued to soak up the spiritual beauty of nature, my physical self-preservation senses began to kick in. I wondered whether I should be out in this kind of weather. As I think back on it now, I find it amusing. But at that point in my journey, I had no idea what boundaries existed. I knew that you don't mess around in a lightning storm. I may have wanted to be an angel, but not right at that moment.

  Reluctantly, I headed back home through the large kitchen window. Passing through the double-paned glass was easy, almost imperceptible. Back inside I floated through the house and into my bedroom. I didn't want to end the excursion just yet. I wanted to play and thought it would be nice to have a playmate to share the experience.

  Floating down closer to my sleeping wife, I hovered a couple of feet above her. I wondered if it would be possible to get her to leave her body. The problem was that I hadn't the slightest clue as to how this might be accomplished. First, I needed to get her attention without actually waking her physical body. Even that thought seemed a bizarre contradiction.

  I recalled that when I was about to leave my body, the vibrations often seemed most intense in my feet and legs. Perhaps this was the key? Turning slowly in the air, I floated down towards her feet. Thinking I might be able to speed up her vibrations by sending energy into her body, I placed my hands on the blankets covering her feet and began to concentrate. After a few moments, however, it became apparent that nothing was happening. There has to be a way, I thought, and concentrated harder. All of a sudden, my right hand swished right through her foot. In surprise, I jerked my hand back. It was tingling with electrical energy.

  The idea of passing through another living being hadn't occurred to me, but it was kind of fun. I began to wonder if it might be considered improper behavior. But, heck, it was way too cool. I couldn't resist. Placing my index finger gently against Candace's lower calf, I began to slowly increase the force. The tip of my finger easily passed through her skin and slowly sank to the knuckle in her leg muscle. Minute jolts of electricity tingled through my finger and up into my hand. After a few moments, I gently withdrew my finger and then poked it back in. “Boy,” I thought, “this is way more fun than going through walls.”

  Other than an exhilarating diversion, this didn't seem to accomplish much, so I floated towards Candace's head. Hoping for better results, I focused instead on sending a telepathic signal into her brain. For nearly a minute, I continued to project the message, “Candi, come out and play,” but nothing happened.

  I had another idea. Placing the middle finger of my right hand on her forehead, I concentrated on the same message. Several moments passed. I could feel the energy flowing easily from my hand into her brow. Suddenly, she began to move. “Okay,” I thought. “Now we're getting somewhere.” Unfortunately, to my dismay, she just kept right on moving—all the way over onto her side. As she rolled over, I watched helplessly as her sleeping arm hung in the air for a couple of seconds, and then dropped onto the chest of my sleeping body. That's all it took: with a sudden jolt, I was instantly back inside. The vibrations were gone, and I was wide-awake.

  While she was still partially asleep, I asked Candace if she had felt me trying to communicate with her. Sleepily, she said she didn't know, but thought that something must have awakened her.

  When I casually mentioned passing my astral hand through her body, that certainly got her full attention. For some reason, she didn't think it would be so cool. She let me know, in no uncertain terms, that it was a rude thing to do, and I would be well advised to keep my damn hands to myself when she's sleeping. I tried to explain that it was purely for scientific purposes, but she wasn't buying it. The next morning, when fully awake, she did admit that it would have been great if I had been able to coax her out of her body, but she still didn't think she wanted anything passing through her.

  Throughout the summer and into the fall, I continued to study anything even remotely connected to the paranormal. One author explained that one of the best times to attempt astral travel was during the pre-sleep hypnagogic state. It's the term that alludes to that narrow balance of consciousness between awake and asleep that we all experience while we're in the process of drifting off each night.

  Called theta, it is the relaxed state of mind in which dream images begin to flash through our consciousness. The condition is often accompanied by small involuntary muscular jolts. In my experimentation, I had found that theta was, indeed, an ideal mental state for exploration. The problem was in trying to maintain the condition.

  Try as I may, I couldn't seem to hold that level of consciousness for long. With continuous practice, I found that I could manage to extend my time hovering in the borderland, but it usually ended up with me falling asleep and waking up frustrated the next morning.

  That same author also suggested that one way to help prolong the hypnagogic condition was to lie on your back with your hand and forearm held in the air. If you started to fall asleep, your arm would automatically begin to fall
, which in turn would trigger you into raising your level of consciousness. You could then pull your arm back into position and in this manner stay on the edge of consciousness, extending the hypnagogic state indefinitely. I tried the method many times. After I got used to the discomfort, I found that it worked quite well, but it wasn't as successful as I had hoped. It did, however, provide me with a couple of exceptional experiences.

  Late one night, while experimenting, I lay in bed for more than 20 minutes, my body practically asleep while my mind remained awake. At some point, I could feel my arm slowly collapsing onto the bed. Reacting, I opened my eyes, but to my surprise my arm was still upright. It hadn't moved.

  Doubting my senses, I shook my head and shifted my awareness to my physical arm. Immediately its feeling and position were restored. Closing my eyes, I soon drifted back into my altered state. Not more than a minute later, I again felt my arm slowly dropping to the bed. Opening my eyes yet again, I was alarmed to find my arm still in an upright position.

  The whole thing was intriguing. Vowing to maintain a stronger awareness of what was happening, I returned to my meditation. Moments later, I felt it begin to topple again. This time I snapped open my eyes to an unbelievable sight. As before, my physical right arm remained locked in an upright position, but now a lighter, whitish shadow of it slowly sank to the bed beside me. I realized that I was observing my physical arm and my astral arm at the same time.

  The reality of the situation jarred me to full awareness. It had come upon me so gradually; I had no idea that I'd moved into an out-of-body condition. I couldn't believe how subtly it had taken place. Had I simply been so deep that I hadn't noticed the change? Or was it just becoming easier to accomplish?