A few years ago, somewhere around 1998/9 I had, what I can only describe as, an ‘out of body experience’. At least, I believe it was an ‘out of body experience’. You can judge for yourselves after reading this account.
It happened one rather nippy Saturday morning in the month of December.
My wife works part time for a large hypermarket grocery chain and, as she can’t drive, I
(still) take her to work every morning at 06.25. Including of course, Saturdays.
On this particular Saturday I dropped her off at the hypermarket then returned home, arriving at approximately 06.50, to be greeted enthusiastically by my 13 year old Jack Russell dog, Pixie,
(a.k.a., Picky or Wicky Woo, (don’t ask!), who is sadly no longer with us)
As visitors to this blog have no doubt gathered by now, I am an ardent dog lover.
As usual, I made a total fuss of Picky,
(who had me wrapped around her little claw), then kicked off my shoes, pulled on my carpet slippers, made myself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, strolled into the living room and flopped down on the settee,
(couch), in front of the television. Picky took my lead and flopped herself down on the rug in front of the gas fire.
Back then, I was working from home on a personal project,
(The Legend of Dyllbert the Pirate ©), a comic strip for a local newspaper which told the tale of Captain Ignatious Josiah Dyllbert, a constantly seasick 19th century Royal Naval Officer who, through no fault of his own, eventually turns to piracy.
(Hey, but that’s another story!)I was always several weeks ahead with the storyline so was under no pressure to work on a Saturday.
(I have to admit that I have always enjoyed having the weekends off).My usual Saturday morning routine was to simply loaf on the settee, usually watching a documentary on the Discovery Channel – most times history - and slowly doze off for an hour or three. Upon waking, I would make myself a tea or coffee then potter about doing odd jobs or a bit of tidying before going to pick up my wife at the end of her shift.
It was about a quarter to eight when my eyelids slammed shut and I happily slipped into oblivion. I don’t remember dreaming, I probably did,
(in fact I always do), but on this occasion, I really don’t recall doing so.
Eventually, I regained consciousness, opened my eyes and sat up, yawning and stretching. As normal, I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and noted that it was 09.54. I’d been asleep for over 2 hours!
Still a little groggy, I rested my elbows on my knees and then placed my head in my hands and turned my attention to what was currently showing on the TV.
It was a programme called,
‘Local Heroes’ featuring the brilliant presenter; Adam Hart Davies,
(who I admire a great deal).Although there was only a few minutes of the programme remaining, and despite having seen this particular episode before, I decided to sit and watch it to the end then go upstairs to my ‘study’, (a converted spare bedroom), and ‘potter about’ maybe undertaking some clean-up up work on
‘Dyllbert’©.As the programme ended, I stole a look at Picky. She was stretched contentedly out on the rug, fast asleep.
I hauled myself to my feet and, deciding not to disturb Picky, wandered quietly out of the living room into the hallway and began ascending the stairs with my left hand on the banister.
I’d taken about three steps up when I sensed that something was not quite right. Didn’t feel right. I couldn’t quite grasp it but the feeling stopped me dead in my tracks.
A little perplexed, I peered up the stairs. Couldn’t see anything wrong. Everything appeared to be perfectly normal. All was in its place and precisely where it should be.
I looked behind me, back down into the hallway. Again, everything seemed normal, nothing untoward or out of place.
Yet I knew... felt, something was definitely...
weird!
I endeavoured to shrug off the feeling, telling myself that I was being foolish. After all, here I was stood on the stairs in my own house in broad daylight. What could possibly be wrong.
And then, like a thunderbolt, it hit me!
I couldn’t feel the stairs under my slipper covered feet! It was as if I’d lost all feeling in my appendages .
I looked down and to my horror I could plainly see why I couldn’t feel the stair. My feet were actually hovering a few inches above the step I thought I was standing on!
For a moment or two, I was staggered! But only for a moment or two. It didn’t take a genius to realise what might be going on here! I was either undergoing an out of body experience or.... I was dead!
I prayed it wasn’t the latter!
To say I was panic stricken would be an understated understatement. I was honestly and truly terrified! I really didn’t like this! Not one little bit!
Worst of all, I was at a complete loss as to what I should do about the situation. And so I remained rooted to the spot, so to speak,
(still hovering), as I attempted to calm myself and try to think things through rationally.
I noted I was still holding on to the banister with my left hand.
Now, this struck me as being rather peculiar, particularly as I could feel the texture and solidness of the wood. If I really was ‘out of body’, I reasoned, how could I possibly feel anything! Shouldn’t my hand pass through the solid banister? Wasn’t I a kind of spirit person?
I also noted that my hands, in fact everything about me, including the clothes I was wearing, were all the right colours and looked precisely as they should.
I didn’t dwell on all this for long since I had far more pressing matters. My main priority was to get back to the living room.
The problem was – and I know this sounds really silly now – I didn’t know just how I was supposed to do that!
After all, I pondered, how did I get from the living room to the stairs in the first place? Did I walk, glide, float, transport, think myself there, or... what?
Essentially, I felt a little like a baby attempting to walk for the first time.
I had clearly managed to move from the living room to the stairs so, logically, I should be able to move back to the living room. My quandary was, how?
“One foot in front of the other, you idiot”, I thought. “Just try putting one foot in front of the other!”
To my surprise and delight, it worked. In a kind of abnormal hovering walk I descended the stairs and retraced my steps back to the living room.
As I entered, Picky opened a bleary eye, raised her head and looked straight at me. It was all just so normal. It’s precisely what she did whenever I
(physically) came into the room.
With a completely disinterested yawn, she laid her head back down on the rug, closed her eye and went back to sleep.
Now came the really unnerving bit!
I looked toward the settee and saw me, lying on it! I could see me quite plainly. Eyes closed, breathing slowly but regularly.
It was like looking at my twin. And boy, it was really bizarre.
Thankful that I - that is my body - was quite obviously still in the land of the living, I moved over to the settee and looked down on myself wondering how the hell I was supposed to re-enter my, quite peaceful looking, body. After all, this was all unexplored territory to me!
And then, while I was still anxiously deliberating, it just... happened.
I felt a peculiar kind of tugging sensation around my chest area, and the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and waking up! Happily back inside my body!
Well, can you just imagine the relief!
I quickly sat up,
(then checked to make sure I wasn’t still lying there. Well, you never know!), and looked at the clock.
The time was 10.11. So, by my reckoning, I had been out of my body for at least 17 minutes!
I cannot deny that I was thoroughly shaken by this experience. As far as I was aware, this had never happened to me before.
With my mind still reeling, and my hands shaking somewhat, I made my way to the kitchen and prepared myself a mug of hot sweet tea.
Sat back down on the settee, my hands wrapped round the hot mug, I began to think about this strange happening.
After some deliberation I concluded,
(and there was no doubt in my mind), that it had indeed been an ‘out of body experience’
(O.O.B.E.). No doubt at all.
Now I’m sure many people, especially the sceptics, would explain my O.O.B.E. away as nothing more than a lucid dream. Well okay, I’m open minded enough to admit that may possibly be the case.
But, then again, maybe not!
The way I look at it is this:
All the dreams, lucid or otherwise, that I have experienced had one particular thing in common. They all had some form of distorted view of the location of my dream.
For example, you might be lucidly dreaming that you are in, say... your kitchen.
Everything in the kitchen would appear perfectly normal and familiar except that the cooker or fridge might be in a completely different place to where it should be. In other words, by placing the cooker or fridge in the wrong location your dream gives a distorted view of your kitchen.
In the case of my O.O.B.E., as I indicated earlier, everything appeared to be perfectly normal. All was in its place and precisely where it should be. Nothing was distorted!
Further evidence in undistorted normality was that when my ‘out of body self’ first ‘woke up’, I actually watched the last few minutes of the TV programme,
‘Local Heroes’. I certainly didn’t dream it!
And when I looked at the clock the time it showed was in real time.
So, did I have an O.O.B.E?
I think I did. I really do.
Of course, I can’t possibly prove it. In fact, I don’t think anyone who has experienced an O.O.B.E. can offer real proof since there is no way to produce actual physical evidence.
But then, when you get right down to it, why should I, or anyone else, have to prove it. I know it happened and I’m content with my interpretation of the experience and that, I feel, is all that really matters, don’t you think?
So I simply ask those to whom I relate this tale to take what I say at face value. Whether they believe it or not is their rightful choice. I would certainly never argue the point.
Some folk ask me if, given the opportunity, I would care to repeat the experience, particularly as I was – understandably I think - scared witless during my O.O.B.E.
And my reply?
Oh yes. I would dearly love to repeat the experience. But so far, from that day to this, I never have.
I’ve had a few lucid, but always slightly distorted, dreams that sometimes made me think that I had. But of course, on reflection, I knew that I hadn’t.
And, I have to say in all honesty, this has been cause for a certain amount of regret.
Shortly after my O.O.B.E. I realised the extraordinary chance I had missed. That whilst I was ‘out of body’ I had a unique option to explore, to see what I could do or achieve and where I might travel, free of my physical body. Instead, I got scared and panicked and thus missed a truly golden opportunity.
(Ever wanted to kick yourself?).
Ah well...
Finally:
There is one thing that still puzzles me though. How is it, given I was out of body and so purportedly not in a physical state, I could feel and hold on to the wooden banister? As I said before, surely my ‘spirit’ hand would have passed through it!
If you have a suggestion or answer to this, I would honestly appreciate, and be very grateful for, your comment.
the tale he told. 
the tale he told. 
