Who Am I? Part Twenty One


Special thanks to Štefan Štefančík for the photo

I have always maintained that my strange experiences in the middle of the night began in 1999. However, the more I think about it, the more it occurs to me that it must have been earlier. I will also add that I will not be wrapping this up in this post, I will be doing that later and revealing the greater understanding of the subject that I have these days. I would be lying if I said that the experience didn’t frighten the life out of me. It didn’t happen very often but when it did I really knew about it. It all started with isolated incidents of being pinned down; completely and utterly unable to move, whilst lying in my bed during the early hours of the morning. The pinning down would always be accompanied by an extremely strong presence of spirit. I always tried to resist but it was impossible; all I could do in my fear was to send thoughts out to God to help me! You have all probably had experiences that are very real, but after the event you try to convince yourself that they didn’t happen, or that you just dreamed or imagined the whole thing. Well that is exactly how it was for me, and the first incident that I can actually remember would have occurred some time at the tail end of 1997; but I know there were incidents before that.

My memory of the finer detail is quite hazy as I type, but I know the experiences intensified as the new millennium approached; so much so that it got to the point where I decided to seek guidance. I asked at the spiritualist church and was given the telephone number of a lady who only lived a short drive away from where I was living in Gorse Hill. This was during the period that I was off work with stress. She was a medium so I went to her also in the hope that she would take all my problems away! I told her what I’d been experiencing, and straight away she said, “Oh, that’s astral travelling, just go with the flow and you will enjoy the experience”. Sure enough, and just as I thought it would, it happened that night. I took the medium’s advice and went with the flow; she was right, it was an incredible experience. I’ve had so many astral adventures since then that it would be impossible to say exactly how many out-of-body experiences I’ve had, but I would guess the figure is well in excess of 200.

In 99.9% of cases the pattern was exactly the same. I would wake in the middle of the night and be unable to get back to sleep. Eventually, I would enter a kind of limbo state; neither asleep nor awake, and it was then that I would feel myself enveloped by spirit. I would then be lifted from my body and carried off at incredible speed, usually through complete darkness but occasionally there would be a tunnel. I would then get dropped off at an astral destination where I was left to my own devices. Then at some point I would have the sensation of returning to my body. Interestingly enough, the return journey is always much quicker than the outbound. A whole new world opened up for me. I found very quickly that simply by thinking myself in a particular direction I would start travelling in that direction. I also learned very quickly to be able to pass through solid objects. Astral energy has a much finer vibration than matter; that’s why we can’t normally see it, but all energy appears solid in its own relevant plane of existence.

In the early days I always kept my eyes closed until I got to my destination, because I found that if I opened them en-route it put a dampener on things and I ended up straight back in my body. Eventually, I was able to open my eyes during the outbound journey, enabling me to view the surroundings and my companion. However, not all journeys have been smooth and I’ve only on very rare occasions had the same companion twice. On one occasion I had a soul whom I nicknamed “Einstein”, because he resembled that great man of science with his crazy, wild hair. It was so uncomfortable for me that I got quite angry and demanded that I return immediately to my body. I did go straight back in my body, but not before acquiring an astral bruise. It remains the only time that has ever happened to me.

Incredibly, on some occasions it got so boring that I questioned the relevance of the experience. On one such occasion I learned that all I needed to do was think myself back into my body, and I would be back in the blink of an eye. There has only been one time when I seemed to be stuck and contemplated the thought that I might possibly have “died”. I ended up outside what looked like a very small version of one of those open-planned newsagents that you get in airports. There was no soul anywhere to be seen except me. I seem to remember looking to try to fathom out what was going on in the “astral news”. All I could see was blank placards and I remember thinking that I was wasting my time. I “thought” myself back into my body but nothing happened! I did it a few more times and still nothing happened. Eventually, I started to make a very slow journey back to my body; it seemed to take an age but I got there in the end.

In the early days things were shown to me that indicated that these experiences can be used to show you scenes from previous lives. In my case I was shown things that I understand to be from my two previous lives. However, I have no way of proving this. Below are a couple of links to accounts of some of my more spectacular out-of-body experiences, and I will touch on the subject again in a future post. Thanks for reading, bye for now!

Operation Caravan

At Last – An Out-Of-Body Experience Worth Writing About

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Who Am I? Part Eleven


You may or may not be surprised to hear that I’m off on my travels again in a couple of days time. Back up to the Scottish Highlands for about a week, so I wanted to write another post before setting off.

One good thing that came from my time living back in London with my mum and then moving back in with her after she moved to Swindon, was that in spite of the difficulties I had with her negativity, it gave us a chance to have some proper chats. It was during these chats that I learned the sordid truth of all the goings on within the family when I was a kid. However, I also gained an understanding of why my dad had been the way he was. Apparently, his mother had been a very beautiful woman who had died when he was only about five years old. He’d idolised his mother, but it wasn’t only her death that had affected him. His father, my Grandad Albert, had married again; ironically to a woman named Elsie, which was my mum’s name. She was a matron in one of the London hospitals and was a very ferocious woman. My dad and her clashed and he also had a very volatile relationship with Albert. I remember that they would fall out and not speak to each other for ages. In fact, when Albert died no one bothered to tell my dad; he found out around three months later during a phone call. It was always an awful experience for me as a kid when we went over there for visits. But finding all this stuff out gave me clarity as to why my dad had been so emotionally barren. It wasn’t that he didn’t love; he simply didn’t know how to express it. I could also see that he had simply lived his life in accordance with the understanding he had at that time, as do all of us. Big respect old boy!

So, back to the late 1980s. I started going to the Spiritualist church on a regular basis and I also had an idea to start my own business. I found the church to be not very welcoming, it was rather cliquey and run mainly by elderly people who appeared to view me with suspicion. I remember one particular incident. It was announced at the weekend that during the coming week there was to be a games night in the church. The idea was that people could have some “fun” in a less formal atmosphere and get to know each other. It sounded good to me so I went along. It turned out to be a bit of a farce; Only around seven people turned up, including me, and with the exception of one woman who was aged somewhere in between me and the older ones, nobody spoke to me. Even if I was interacting with them during the “fun and games”, they just looked at me in ways that suggested they didn’t think I should be there. I didn’t let this put me off and I made enquiries about doing their spiritual healing course. One thing I decided was that I wanted to follow-up on what Mr Dowding had told me about developing my healing gift.

Trainee healers were not allowed to put their hands on patients until deemed ready by the lead healer. So, apart from the written element of the course, I was allowed to sit in during healing sessions but I was only permitted to observe or send out healing thoughts. I was doing well with the written work; I was about one-third of the way through and had gained good marks up to that point. Then an incident occurred that caused me to walk away; and I stayed away for around five years. As I’ve already mentioned there is a lead healer; this is something that is synonymous with Spiritualist churches. I had a private nickname for our particular lead healer, which was “The King of The Healers”.

I mentioned to the president of the church that I’d been doing really well with the written work and had gained good marks. In view of this, I asked if it would be permissible for me to now just hold the patient’s hands as they received healing from one of the trained healers. The president said this would be fine so, feeling rather pleased with myself, I was looking forward to the next healing night. The time came and I thought I’d better mention the holding hands thing to the lead healer instead of just steaming in. When I did so, The King of The Healers had a mini-meltdown because he had not been consulted. In hindsight I was not aware of the protocol and had acted in complete innocence, but nonetheless, the lead healer appeared to have a massive ego; hence my nickname for him, and added to the general bad atmosphere in the church, I decided that I no longer wanted any part of it and voted with my feet. I was still quite a young man at the time and my impression was that as long as I sat in the congregation and kept my mouth shut all was fine. But because I wanted to get involved I was perceived as a threat.

As for my business venture, it was great experience, but sadly, it was doomed from the start. Back in those days there was a thing called “The Enterprise Allowance Scheme”. It was a government-run scheme that encouraged people to start up their own businesses by paying them £40 per week for the first 12 months. However, it was a bit of a Catch 22 situation; well it was for someone like me who was skint! In order to be eligible you needed to have some cash to put into the business. So, the natural thing is to ask the bank for some money… but the bank won’t give you any money unless you have some of your own to put in. Holmsey cunning was needed, so I asked my mum to lend me £2000, which I put into my bank account. I then said to the bank, “look, I’ve got some money”! The bank then gave me a business account with a £2000 overdraft facility. I was then able to approach the Enterprise Allowance Scheme and qualify for the £40 a week. Soon as everything was in place I paid my mum her £2000 back. I had the idea of selling second-hand vinyl from a market stall. I soon learned that you couldn’t earn a living by only offering the public stuff that you yourself liked.

The murky world of market trading was another real learning curve for me. It was soul-destroying at times. Long hours and quite often not even taking enough money to cover my daily outgoings. When I realised I couldn’t make a living by selling second-hand rock albums, I started selling cassettes and pop merchandise; I also started selling the type of music that people actually wanted! I have to chuckle when I look back on this period. Some of the markets where I traded attracted elderly people who wanted to spend 50p on anything other than what I was selling, and young single mums looking to buy cheap disposable nappies. I would be there selling Guns n Roses and Sex Pistols T-shirts and albums by popular “easy listening” bands such as Black Sabbath and The Who! Eventually I did come around to the idea of changing my sales and marketing strategy!

It was a real cut-throat world and I encountered a few dodgy characters along the way. Two things that I found though, and this seems to have been the case everywhere and with everything I’ve ever been involved in. Firstly, I didn’t fit in. I felt very uncomfortable around some of the people I had to associate with; and at this point in my life I still didn’t understand why I always felt different. Secondly, through all the darkness and murkiness of this period (I was well and truly on the downward slope by this time), there was someone who always looked out for me. In this instance it was Bill, who was the market Toby* for the council-run market in Marlborough where I plied my trade on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Bill had a family fruit and veg business and was one of two fruit and veg traders at Marlborough. He knew I was struggling, but I think he admired what I was trying to achieve as a one-man-band. I didn’t have a pitch, but he always made sure I got on. He had a word with the mobile butcher who let me pitch up at the side of his butcher’s wagon. Also, if any of the traders were sick or on holiday Bill would let me have their pitch. All I had to do in return was let him and the butcher have a free cassette from time to time. He never took any money off me because the pitch fees were already paid. I salute you Billy boy!

What little profit I made went towards keeping my old Citroen on the road by way of petrol and maintenance costs. I’d already started to think that maybe it wasn’t going to work and that I should look for a career change, when I did something incredibly stupid.

Carol’s sister and John were having a christening do in the church hall just up from Carol’s house. It was around ten months since we split and I’d bumped into John and her sisters on various occasions and had been invited. I was apprehensive but decided to go along. Carol was there and I did not go into the main hall where she was, choosing instead to hang out at the bar and chat to her sisters, her kids and John as they flitted in and out. Eventually, Carol came out to speak to me. We got on surprisingly well. Unfortunately, I allowed myself to get too involved and before I knew it, we were not only seeing each other again, but I’d moved back in with her. What followed wasn’t very nice, but I’m going to finish this post by sharing what happened when I had my first experience of the sustained presence of spirit around me.

I think this was the first time or one of the first times I took Carol to London. We were just outside the back door one evening in Gladstone Avenue and I felt the presence of spirit around me. I don’t know if I’d felt it before but this was unmistakable. I told Carol what I could feel and she said she felt it too. She was used to this kind of thing and told me it was my dad. The presence seemed to stay for quite a long time and it got stronger and stronger. In the end it got so strong I panicked and it stopped immediately. Carol said he’d deliberately increased the presence gradually as he had not wanted to frighten me. As soon as I started to panic he drew back.

*For the uninitiated, the word “Toby”, is market trader speak for the person who is in charge of the market. The Toby collects the pitch fees and controls who’s on and who isn’t.