I roll to the left. My perspective is still beneath the blanket. But I am lying face down beside my body. I feel the warmth of my body beside me. I smell the slightly sweet and familiar scent of my skin. Like the feeling you have when your alarm clock goes off and you have to be somewhere, I knew I needed to be somewhere. The feeling was incentive enough to slide out of bed. Instead of sliding out from underneath the blankets, I simply moved through the different layers of the duvet and out the other side. Now standing in my room, I moved to the window past the four guides whose consciousness were in the room while I slept. This is the fourth dimension. Like a blue print of the physical reality, but with many additions which are not visible to the physical eye. Inner knowing calls you louder than a bullhorn in this dimension. I know the place I have to be is in the fourth dimension. We are not going beyond this dimensional reality tonight. I am being called to something happening in real time.
Pretend you were to make a phone call to someone in another country about something you wanted or needed. In the fourth dimension, that intention or thought appears as a thought form that looks like a thread or filament stretching between you and the person you are calling to connect with. I see the end of one such filament reaching out to be connected to. It follows the subtleties of my movements like a magnet. I connect my solar plexus to the feeling of having to be somewhere; on a sensation level, it feels as if I am attaching myself (my identity) to a spider web or fishing line that is then cast out into the night air.
I am un-phased enough with the physical dimension that temperature no longer registers. I am forty feet above the ground outside the house, floating at what feels like hundreds of miles an hour along this filament that is the manifestation of the calling that woke me from sleep. It goes through the mountains. My consciousness does not bother to follow the roads or rivers. Instead it takes the most direct course, flowing through the granite rock with the same ease as it moved through the duvet earlier on. I arrive at a hospital in the city that is just 30 minutes drive away from my house, through a canyon. I am now hundreds of feet above it. The city lights below are like a bouquet of glossy luminosity. I can see a red rectangle containing a white cross below me. I know instinctively that it is an air med helicopter-landing pad. The filament is disappearing into a door beside it. I follow it into the unfriendly, sterile hallways of the trauma clinic and into an operating room where the thought form of a man that has left his body is facing the overhead lights in a state of confusion. Like a moth, he keeps bumping up against the overhead light as if trying to go into it. This is the man whose call sent the filament to my room in the middle of the night. He is slightly overweight. His hair is black. In life, I would assume him to be a simpleton. Not particularly spiritual. Not particularly intellectual. The kind of man you’d expect to see working minimum wage at a gas station or on a construction site. I pull him down from the place he is floating under the lights and turn him towards me. I raise my voice at him while holding his arms “clarity here now” “clarity here now”. As if waking a zombie from a daze, he looks right at me and the dazed fog lifts from his eyes. I am aware that the surgeons are working on his body in front of us. He is disconnected from his autonomic nervous system, so I know he will not be startled or feel any particular survival reaction to seeing himself on the table.. I still feel compelled to prepare him for what is occurring. There is a doctor who looks a bit like a younger, serious version of Santa clause. His white beard is covered by a face mask. He seems to be the most comprehensive of the doctors and so I project myself into his perspective long enough to download what is occurring. There was a car accident. The seat belt in the car he was riding in caused a blunt deceleration injury that ruptured his spleen and caused a hemorrhage. They are performing a partial splenectomy. His blood pressure is dangerously low. He has IV fluid running through his body and they recently resorted to blood transfusion.
This doctor is so focused that at the base of his own neck he has created a division which blocks his lower body emotions from causing any sensation above the neck. It feels like a nerve block. His body is in a poor state as a result of being ignored like this continuously. But he can function rationally despite any chaos or upset going on in the environment. He is exactly what the current medical industry would select as a good trauma specialist. For a split second I am understanding how these people can do the job they do.
I withdraw from the perspective of the doctor and return full consciousness to the man. I explain to him “You were in a car crash. You’re not alone. Behind you, the doctors are working on you and all that happened is that you decided it would be better to put a little distance between you and the experience so you could get some clarity. Everything happened too fast for you to understand what was happening.” He nodded. I turned him around slowly; still holding his arms as if making a contained feeling for him. He watched the doctors work on him as if unmoved by the experience, impartial to himself. This is common when the consciousness is not connected to the physiological reactions that come along with identification. He asked, “Am I going to live?” I told him “That all depends on if you want to come back.” He said nothing and did not move.
At that moment, I could feel him withdrawing. To many people, when their consciousness withdraws through the various dimensions, the soul de-manifests. This de-manifestation pulls it’s way back to oneness through the first manifestation, which is light. This is why people who die (or who nearly die) experience themselves being drawn towards a white light. I stayed with him as he went towards the light. The bright warmth of it gave us the feeling that we were like butter, melting into something we wanted to melt into. I call it “The celestial dissolve”. There is rarely a turning back from this moment. I know from experience that the choice to go or stay must be theirs. But I felt compelled to remind him of the choice. So I did. I pulled on him just enough to make him aware of the choice. There is no language at this level of universal experience. He would have experienced the pulling as a feeling of being torn between two worlds. Wanting to unite with all of himself in the light and yet wanting to remain on earth.
This occupation of assisting people out of body when they have experienced trauma is a common enough occupation in my life to qualify it as another full time job. But it was at that moment that I watched a decision take place within him that has set this particular experience apart from so many of the others. When he was in that place of being torn between worlds, I watched him feel the overwhelming feeling of love that is integral to the white light of death. It was like watching an infant in a state of wonderment at a substance he had never before touched. And at that moment, as if to validate the universal truth that nothing is meaningful if not shared, with verve and mission, he made the decision that he could not have it only for himself. I could barely stay with him when his inspiration literally shot his consciousness like a lighting bolt back through the density of the lower dimensions and back into his body.
This man was compelled back into his body by his desire to share the overwhelming sense of love that he had experienced with those that he loved already and would love in the years to come. It was as if his action had put up a sign for me that said “your services are no longer required”. I stayed for a bit in awe, watching him commit so fully to his life. Wondering how much he would consciously remember upon waking. It was a beautiful thing to see… The birth of another of source’s soldiers. Knowing he will be walking the earth makes me feel like this movement towards a conscious society is a brushfire that cannot be tamed.
I returned to my body, which was still asleep in the bed in my room by attuning to it and moving through the higher dimensions so as to not have to perceive any travel or distance between myself in the hospital and myself in the bed. I sat on top of myself in the bed and laid back into myself as if I was slipping into a suit. For a moment I felt myself floating inside myself and then I began to feel myself from both perspectives. As the body and as the spirit within the body. I began to feel my consciousness fill in my body and re-phase with it. I felt myself penetrating every single nerve ending and synapse. I felt the movement of my blood through my arteries strongly enough that I squirmed against the sensation. I realized I could even feel the movement of my lymph. The feeling of the air temperature returned, followed by the sounds in the room. I could see the whole room, but my eyes were closed still. It took some effort to open them. My body felt as heavy as lead. I am used to this feeling now. It used to torment me in previous years.
Slowly, I made my way to the edge of the bed, letting my blood pressure catch up with my transition to vertical. Then I walked to the bathroom through the dark to run cold water over my hands. This is the technique I have found that works the best for bringing the consciousness back to the body completely. “I am here” I repeated to myself three times. I was fully back in 3-D. I went to sleep with a smile on my lips. I love the beauty of the message conveyed by this man. I want us all to carry it with us today:
Love and all those wonderful feelings short of love, like freedom and happiness and inspiration and passion are meaningless if not shared. So share them with those that you love already and those you will love in the years to come.