Healing OBEs
PAGE 2
from Leo (continued):
March 14, 2000

Drummed [with my deerskin drum] yesterday afternoon -- asked spirits to heal/help some friends, X being one of them.  This morning woke up and thought about it again -- just focusing on X and how I'd like her to be  helped with a "health problem" she'd said she's had (but I never asked the details).  I drifted off a bit -- did some drumming in my head, had someOBE-type symptoms (floaty, and had electrical sounds in head).

I had a dream where I approached X and she approached me.  Visually (which was just made up if it was an OBE), she was partially naked and at first our approaches were sexually motivated, but on another level I knew it [the visual] was not "on" or happening, and then I gave her energy (little spirally energy things) through the front of my spirit to the front of her spirit.  We were right together, so the energy "beams" were short.   This lasted about 5 or 10 seconds, it seemed, and felt interesting.  I then  soon woke up and remembered the dream.   I went back to sleep.  The energy thing was around 3:45 to 4:15 A.M. I think.  I assumed Z [a deceased friend] was helping with the X dream and I told her we make a good team.

Later on [a couple of hours later], I had a dream where there was  someone close by me.  We were sort of in a car/walking on the freeway in the  valley I guess.  The person was maybe 10 or 20 feet away.  Anyway, it was  nighttime and all was dark except for an illuminated area just to the east.  I approached it and backed away.  Then I went into the illuminated area (still outside and the source was mysterious) and looked up and saw a bright triangle shape up in the sky and I thought it was a UFO.  Then a bright, pulsing shockwave hit me and then I was aware of being in bed and  pounded with the source of light.  It was loud and bright and was like a jackhammer blasting me.  I thought I must be convulsing all over the bed!  The light beam was aimed at my right shoulder.  It lasted maybe 5 seconds or so.  It was incredible, but I of course woke up because of it.  I had no idea what that was about, but I assumed it wasn't harmful and was indeed to help me energize, perhaps, after the X dream?  Bizarro.  A very interesting night -- nothing that complex/bizarre has happened for a few years it seems.  I  was glad and felt like I was "back."  Something  strange always seems to happen after drumming (my real, deer skin drum).
from Haunter:
I just had one of the oddest OBEs I've ever experienced, this morning.  I had awoken about 4:30 A.M. after a rather disturbing dream, the memory of which eluded retrieval or capture, like so many grains of sand slipping between the fingers.  I got up, had a drink of water and returned to bed, hair still damp from the dream-sweat produced by the odd dream.  The wind here was blowing rather steadily and this set the bush outside my window to methodically brushing up against it, almost as steadily as a metronome -- tick tick tick tick.  The repetitive nature of the stimulus seemed to stay quite apparent as I slipped quickly through pre-sleep hypnogogia and into sleep -- tick tick tick.  Then it seemed to change tempo, ticking faster and faster.  My heart started to keep time with the rhythm and this, in turn, morphed into a humming, then the vibes that so often precede my OBEs.

I almost came out of the reverie at that moment, wondering what happened to the bush sound, but I relaxed myself and allowed my perception to take whatever path it wanted.  In what seemed to be several seconds, I could feel myself sinking down through the bed, then twisting slowly over into blackness.  Again, I nearly woke myself up because of the realization that I was entering an OBE but managed to steady myself by singing my little "relaxation mantra" that I've mentioned before.  I then felt myself rising up through the bed and as soon as I rose above it, I opened my "eyes" and saw myself lying below me, mouth open and snoring lightly.  I recall, vividly, noticing the continual retreat of my hairline and laughing about how much older I looked than I felt. "So this is what my Dad meant," I reflected on a conversation I'd had last year with my Dad concerning the nature of growing old.

This thought brought to mind a health issue that my 78-year-old father has recently faced: he has come down with a terrible case of shingles.  Shingles are an extremely painful outbreak of pustules/skin lesions that are the result of the re-emergence of the chicken pox virus, after 50 years or more of lying dormant in the system.  Besides the rash-like outbreak, another typical symptom is an excrutiating, acute pain wherein the virus attaches itself to the roots of various nerve pathways, causing stabbing, burning pain.  There is nothing that can be done to lessen its effect, and poor old Pop hasn't had a decent night's sleep in 3 weeks.  We've all watched helplessly as he's endured this terrible manifestation of the disease eating him up and forcing him to sitting around instead of his usual physically active self.  It's been very frustrating and alarming for all of us.  I even talked him into letting me attempt to lessen the pain through guided imagery -- something very unlike him, up to this point, but we're all so desperate to do something, anything, to help, that he cooperated with this mental exercise and it did indeed seem to help him to handle the pain a little bit.

So, I decided to fly over and visit him, to see if there was something else I could do.  I flew through the neighborhood, which was quite accurately displayed in my dreamscape: not surprising, since I've lived, off and on, in this town for 40 years.  I came to the house and had no trouble merging through the walls and into his bedroom.  I didn't really think too much about the flying or the details of the "morphing" through solid objects, as I seem to notice in my previous OBEs; my sole attention was in hopes of doing something to help my Dad with his pain.   I saw him lying on his bed, thinner than I remember him being -- almost skeletal.  "Poor ole Pop," I remember saying.

Then, in keeping with the guided imagery we'd performed, wherein I talked him down to a microscopic level and followed nerve pathways to the various nerve bundles that were causing him the most pain, I "saw" these bundles as major highways, with the nerve impulses, cars and trucks. I  don't remember the transition, mentally, between flying around in the "real," macro world, to the micro world under his skin; it seemed almost instantaneous.  I came to a "traffic jam" where there were cars on fire in a tunnel.  I "knew" that this was one of his spots where there was a concentration of pain, so I found myself with a fire extinguisher in hand, going from one burning car to the next, putting out the fires.  After some very vivid physical feats on my part, rushing from one car to another, I remember the unique smell of burning flesh, which I experienced several times, I'm sorry to say, in my capacity as an insurance investigator.  It's a smell that sticks with you all your life.  Anyway, rather than being revolted and sickened by the smell, I repeated that line from
Apocalypse Now: "I love the smell of napalm in the morning."  In this respect, I was somehow telling myself that it meant my fire extinguishing efforts were having a positive effect.  Don't ask why; I just knew that's what it meant.

Soon the other, backed up cars were now moving freely around me, and I went on to the next "backup" and put out fires there.  I did this in 4 places "in my Dad." :)  I know how strange it sounds, but that's how it seemed to be.  The last traffic jam, the largest, was overwhelming.  I had to fight my way through what looked for all reality to be a tunnel just north of the Golden Gate Bridge -- it's called the Rainbow Tunnel because of the multicolor bands painted over its entrance.  I had to fight and fight just to get a couple of cars' fires put out, and I was getting really frustrated.  In my conscious mind, I somehow knew that I was in my Dad's left side, where he'd reported the worst, stabbing pain to be.  My "fire extinguisher" kept running low, as I sprayed its cooling fog toward the inferno in front of me.  Several times, I had to back off, take a "breather" and then go back into the flames, trying to make progress towards the center of the tunnel where the fire was out of control.  Finally, I had to give up and I found myself crying in frustration as the flames lapped at my back as I ran outside.  It was at that point where I "snapped" back into my sleeping body and I woke up with a start -- again, soaked in sweat, as if I'd just run a marathon.

I'll give Dad a call in an hour or so and see how his pain is this morning.
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