Astral Nomads
A private room in hospital is great, albeit a touch lonesome at times. That particular night was one of those times ...
I pressed the off-button on the TV remote and watched the screen go blank, having become bored with watching the dated repeats. I reached over to the bedside table, put down the TV remote, picked up the hardback, then relaxed back to read on from where I'd left off a couple of hours earlier. After all, it had only just turned eight-thirty that evening.
My favourite reading were books on astral projection, and this latest acquisition, with instructions on how to achieve astral flight soon had me totally spellbound once more. Spellbound to such an extent, that I hadn't realised that I had fallen asleep and had entered the beginning of a very realistic and vividly coloured dream ...
I found myself floating motionless above the bed in the private room and feeling a sense of well-being flowing through me. My only thought right at that moment was that I was having an out-of-body experience, within the safety of a dream. It felt very pleasant, almost spiritual in fact.
My physical body laid in the bed beneath me looked contented and at peace as I gazed down upon the familiar, sleeping face. The hardback lay open on my chest, showing the start of a new chapter, 'How To Achieve Astral Flight' which amused me somewhat, for here I was actually dreaming of being in astral flight and thinking how ironic the situation was!
The sensation of being detached from my physical body and floating aloft in a luminous, disembodied self was quite overwhelming, though not alarming. The different colours within the room were vivid, almost surreal; I noticed too that the sounds of the city coming in through the open window were also unusually clear, and I was somehow able to hear each separate voice, each conversation with ease. My astral body was perfect, and indeed I was enjoying the experience even if it were but just a dream. I duly discovered that merely thinking of where I wished to be was sufficient for movement and in but an instant I had passed through the open window and out into the most beautiful autumn evening I'd ever seen.
I thought how the countryside would look through astral eyes, and in an instant I found myself soaring high above the dark and rolling landscape of the North Yorkshire Moors, an area of England that I know and love so well. Though the darkness filled the scene, I could see every single blade of grass, each shrub, in crystal clear colours. I noticed a badger that was foraging for its nightly meals. I witnessed colours that I never knew existed before this night, and probably never would again once I'd woken from this dream.
Then without prior warning, I was suddenly speeding heavenward towards the stars. The sensation of climbing higher and higher into the sky was exhilerating. And then suddenly I came to an instantaneous halt. Far below me was my world, the beautiful blue-green orb of Earth. And I wished to remain hovering motionless in that same spot for as long as I could, enjoying the sensation of tranquility. Yet some moments later I felt a strange and unwelcome feeling surge through my astral body, as if an unseen force was tugging at my very soul. And the next moment I was being forcibly swept downwards at great velocity, as if my astral body were suddenly trapped inside some invisible eddy. Down and down I plunged at an ever-increasing rate of speed. Faster. Faster still!
Abruptly my astral body came to a halt, inside the private room of the hospital. Again I was floating near the ceiling and looking down at my physical body in the bed; but now the hardback book had been removed from my chest and was on the bedside table. Instantly I knew there was something very wrong with this dream I was experiencing, it had turned into an all-too-real nightmare! I wished to wake, but the nightmare continued. I imagined myself in some other place, yet I remained in the same spot. Panic began to quickly set in as I heard the sound of voices approaching from the corridor outside the private room.
The door of the private room swung open and in came Dr. Richard Wells, followed by a young female nurse.
"When you did the 10 p.m. rounds, was Mr. Parker conscious?" enquired Dr. Wells.
"No, Doctor. Mr. Parker was asleep, and so as not to disturb him I lifted the book from his chest and placed it on the bedside table."
I watched in horror as Dr. Wells checked my carotid artery for a pulse, then dully shook his head in a very sad manner. He turned to face the young nurse. "Mr. Parker is dead, nurse. Please cover his face." And without another word spoken, Dr. Wells left the room.
Salvation came to my rescue that very night in the form of an ancient Tibetan Monk called Lobsang. And as we both soared away into the coming dawn, he informed me that if you die whilst in astral flight, then your astral body can never return to the physical body and you become an Astral Nomad, like himself.