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My Out of Body Experiences

Posted by encouraged , in OBE 20 February 2012 · 389 views

Out of Body OBE out of body
Portions of Encouraged by the Light are included:
Copyright © 2011 John Christian Edwards
(Ligature & small caps replacements completed)


_______
OBE ONE

I was rising up out of my body. I was not far up, not even a foot above myself, still facing the ceiling and moving slowly when I did the impossible. With my eyes swollen shut I watched a nurse open the door but not enter the room. Instead she leaned over with her head in the room and then looked toward Mother. I listened and watched her tell Mom, “The doctor will see you now.”

I watched Mom rise from the chair and leave the room. By the time she was out and around the door, she was face to face with the doctor. At this time, I was ceiling high and hovering as if suspended from a tether. I was horizontal, floating, and facing down. I saw my body in the hospital bed as I was watching my mother and Dr. Jim talk. I was watching them through a wall.

Mom didn’t seem to say anything aſter their greetings, so I discovered myself hearing Dr. Jim’s concerns: “This is the critical period. He may not make it through the night. If he does, he has a good chance of living.” (Chapter Four, “There” covers what happened at this moment.)

They finished talking, and Mom returned to the room and the seat where she had been. Aſter she sat down, I remember seeing myself and I remember saying to her, “Mom, don’t worry. Your son is going to live.” I then rejoined my body. (cite: Chapter 3, page 41)

_________
OBE(s) TWO

Those who did come into the room came in quietly....Dad would say, “John, there is someone here to see you.” He would have me liſt my arm to grasp their hand.

I was to identify the guest by grasping their hand. The result was really interesting and shows the importance of touch. I would become cognizant, at least for a little while.... [I would rise from my body, ever so slightly. Just enough for my newly found vision to begin working again.] Dad would ask me, “Can you tell me who this is?” I would tell him. My up-close vision had me as mystified as the others. I suppose I was on the verge of leaving this world for many hours.

[Not knowing the mechanism by which this was accomplished, Dad would explain to the guest the way people have senses that become more advanced aſter the loss of sight or hearing.]

Strangely, I maintained a 100% average on identification of people whom I had reason to know prior to that accident, during that the couple of days in which I was able to see because of the ability to rise up a little.

_________
OBE THREE

It took about ten days for the swelling of my huge, black eyes to decrease enough to allow me to see. The doctors and family wanted to determine to what extent, if any, I was blind.... The neurologist helped me open my eyelids and asked me to look at the end of my bed. They wanted to know what I saw.

They had chosen an object for me to identify.... It was a few red roses. They were the remaining survivors of the long-stemmed roses a family gave us.

The doctor asked, “John, what do you see at the end of your bed.”
I replied, “Roses.”
Mom said, “The O’Neals brought those.”
The doctor asked, “What color are they?”
“Red,” was the reply.
“How many are there?”
“Three.”

There was excitement in the air. I could see, and I was not seeing double. Then I said, “But I liked them better when they were over there.” I pointed to where they had been during my last OBE.

[There was dea silence. Naturally this was a confusing statement since I was supposed to not be able to see at the time.] Aſter the doctor leſt Mom asked, “What did you mean by you ‘liked them better when they were over there’?”

I replied, “I liked them better over there where they were because there were more of them,” and pointed to the corner at the end of the room. I asked, “What happened to the rest of the roses? Where are they?”

In my peculiar, [new] world I had [only] brief snippets of time. When all were added up, [it was, to me, as if] as little as an hour had passed, even if it had been three and a half days. So, from the time I saw the baker’s dozen of red, long stem roses while I was out of body, to the time I had my eyes opened and saw only three roses, was merely a blink in my flow of little memory segments.

As Mom returned the roses to where they had been, she said, “They are all that are leſt. The others have died. There was a baker’s dozen of them. John, I wish you could have seen all the beautiful flowers. We did not have enough room for them all, so we took several home, and now they are all wilted and gone—except for these three roses. I just wish you could have seen them. [They represent the number of people who have been concerned and who have been praying for you.]”

“But I did see them, Mom!” I assured her. “What kind of flowers were the yellow ones next to the roses in the white vase?”

“Those were gardenias, they were from …” The conversation continued until we went [clockwise all the way] around the room. I would describe the flower arrangement and the vase if visible. Mom would tell me what kind of flower it was, who sent it and what the vase looked like, if it had not been visible [to me].

Ten years later, during a phone call with Mom, I revealed I had had an (actually another) OBE. It was aſter the one she already assumed had happened. I related to her that I found myself liſting up until horizontal and facing down as before. Likewise, I was ceiling high, in line with the long axis of the bed, looking down from where the ceiling and wall meet—at the foot end of the room. While I was in that position, I was able to get a good look at the details of the room.

The times when I was out of body were the only clear memories I had of the whole experience. It was amazing the amount of information my memories contained from these short glances. The memories were clear, long lasting, [as if stamped into me], and impressive. Because of these memories and short periods of awareness, the events of the first three days had, to me, only spanned minutes. This explained the question, “What happened to the flowers?” I was unaware time had passed.

Because of this, I had no memories of being moved. I was unaware of where I was at different times. The only memories I had were confusing. The confusion was a road block to revealing what had happened to me. For ten years I had never discussed the events with anyone but my wife of two years, Sharon.

The problem was the doors. I was unaware the two OBEs had occurred in two different rooms. I had no memory of moving from one into the other. In one OBE, the door swung out into the hall. In the other experience, the door swung into the room. I did not know what to do with these facts, except to doubt my short snippets of a memory of some extraordinary things that I had never done before.

It would be like my taking pictures of two different, yet similar, rooms while I was [strapped to the ceiling] in each room. The first room was empty, and the second room full with people, flowers, and a few room accessories. The chairs in the two rooms were similar in type and placement.

If I could show you pictures of the room in two groups, the first group representing right aſter the wreck and the second group representing a day later, what would you conclude? Would you conclude they were the same room at different times, or would you realize without help that the rooms were altogether different? If the door hinges were the only thing different, would you even notice, or wonder what was going on, as I did? [That is the kind of total attention to everything one has during an OBE.] If you know me, you would know that it was a wonder that I even noticed any difference, but that is how powerfully implanted this kind of experience is. Everything becomes clear. [For those who understand the MBTI personality classification system, I am an ENTj.] [illustration]

I said before how these kinds of memories are vivid, detailed, and long lasting. They were detailed enough that those details could be examined with confidence. They were vivid enough to easily find irregularities with little or no effort. This produced the strong contrast in the layout of the two rooms and an equally strong reason to doubt the reality of the experience, just from the little odd thing about how the doors were hung. This made the whole experience perplexing. I was confident because the experiences were vivid—the vivid experiences that I had decided to reject.

When I continued to explain the scenes on the telephone to Mom that day, and said, “the doctor was in the hall,” she told me, “Oh, that event must have occurred in the emergency examining room and its hallway.” I already knew the other occurred in my patient room. I thought both occurred in the patient room. I was surprised and delighted to realize the events occurred in two different rooms. [I now had validation that the details were indeed accurate.] I could now depend on the experience as being real.

It was as if I were the person in Plato's cave example of trying to determine reality. And Mom was Plato explaining how I misinterpreted the shadows on the cave wall.

I learned another thing concerning their conversation in the hallway. I had not heard what the doctor said to me but what the doctor was thinking about me. Mom told me, “John, a doctor wouldn’t be [that] direct in that kind of a situation. You were reading his thoughts. Anyway, that isn’t what he said. He told me, ‘We will know more as time passes.’ I think what you ‘heard’ was what he was thinking.”

That makes sense, too, because Mom had no intense emotional reaction to what was said. She just accepted it and sat back down. If there were a time for her to burst into tears, this would have been that time, but she was calm.




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