Sharing Personal Experiences

[Jessup2]

Experience: Are you awake?

I was on the couch, had been sleeping. There had been a late party and this is where I drifted off. I heard a voice, recognized as a young woman I was acquainted with, her brother was my roommate at the time. The voice: “Are you awake?” I opened my eyes, and said “No… I’m not awake.”

At that point I realized how different sound was to me now, in comparison to just a moment ago. I looked at her, and that look was astonished, frightened, shocked. So I realized she had not said anything, but had thought about asking. She ran out of the apartment before I could question her about it. It took me quite some time to get her to talk to me about the experience. When she did, I confirmed that she saw my eyes flickering and moving about under my eyelids, so she thought about asking if I was awake so she could run the vacuum cleaner.

 

[Jessup2]

Experience: Love yourself

I was in bed, getting ready to sleep. I had decided to focus on a spot behind and above me as stated in one of the instructional books about astral projection. Started my breathing techniques for relaxation, moving my focus to one foot, heavy, then the other foot, heavy, then one leg, heavy, the other leg heavy. Breath, hold, exhale, hold… suddenly a loud booming voice startled me out of my practice… “You can’t love others until you learn to love yourself!” I opened my eyes, startled, and it was morning. I was in the same position, the covers were not moved an inch from a moment ago when I laid down to rest, and I was still tired as if I had not slept yet. Yet I had lost at least 7 hours of time in one instant.

[Jessup2]

Experience: Don’t hit me....

I was reading, which is a very common hobby of mine and very automatic. I have a way of holding a paperback in my right hand with one finger holding the page while the rest of my hand holds the book closed on it while I do things. I have lost track of the page I am reading many times, drifting into a dazed trance and reading entire books while they pass before my eyes like a movie. I am then quite amazed at how quickly I read the whole book, and how much of it I retain. On this occasion, I was reading in the afternoon, and I suddenly found myself standing in the hallway, my book in hand, finger holding my spot. I was not sure what I was doing there and glanced around me to try and remember why I came to the front door hallway. I heard my roommate’s truck pull up outside, the dent in the flywheel housing made a telltale ‘ding’ every time the driveshaft rotated past it. I waited there, heard him coming up the walk outside, boots to concrete. Then he came through the door and punched me in the face, knocking me to the ground. At this point, the only clue that this might not be real was the fact that it didn’t hurt to be punched in the face or fall down. I was still holding the page in my book. Then the strangest thing happened, I got up and hugged him, telling him it was ok, I totally understand. This was not in any way what I would have normally done, and I was certainly not in control of my actions. I was simply a witness to this like it was a very, very realistic dream. Just as suddenly, I was back on the couch, reading the same sentence over and over again. Probably about the third time into the sentence, I realized what had just taken place and felt like “I was back to reality”. So, I did what most people would do, stuck my finger in the book to hold my place and went to that hallway to see if it looked the same as it did a minute ago in my strange experience. It did. And to my surprise, the track pulled up outside, that familiar ‘ding’ of the flywheel telling me it was indeed my roommate. I stood there in that hallway as everything repeated just like in my vision, the boots coming up the walk, the door opened… but this time I said, “Don’t hit me…” and backed away. The surprised look on his face was interesting. He said, “oh, wow, tell me what you saw!” So I repeated the experience to him. And he told me the following. He had just  broke up with his girlfriend, and felt angry. He felt I would understand the feeling of just wanting to punch something, so while he was driving home, he was imagining that, punching me in the face and me saying that I understood ahd giving him a hug…

 

[Jessup2]

Experience: Death Notice

I was in Germany when about 3 in the morning I woke up startled from a dead sleep, knowing that my friend’s mother had passed. She had bone cancer and had lived 10 years with it, never complaining much. I called the house, and her daughter answered the phone. She confirmed that Mom had just passed away, and was surprised that I was calling without being notified.

 

[Jessup2]

Experience: The Last Beer

The card table was setup in the garage. Myself, a friend, his half-brother and his sister were playing cards. My friend went to the kitchen and there was only one beer left. He called me to the door and whispered, “There is only one beer left, how about we split it and not say anything?” I said, “I don’t need a half a beer, you go ahead.” He said something about wishing his half-brother would leave. So I had this wild idea of trying out powers that I could feel growing inside of me like a baby in a womb. I said, “watch this…” and went back to the table. I sat down across from his half-brother, who was busy staring into his hand of cards. I recalled the feeling of being so tired that you can’t keep your eyes open. I could feel it in my gut, taking shape. I folded it up in my mind, squashed it into a little beam of light, and zapped it out of my eyes at him. He fell into his hand of cards, sound asleep. And at that moment I got the feeling of being flushed down a toilet. My whole being was being sucked out of my body through my feet, like I had turned into water and was being turned inside out. I stood up, not being able to breath. I got dizzy and I could no longer keep my consciousness. As I fell, I caught the card table with my cheekbone on the way down, hitting it hard and collapsing the leg on that side. Then my face hit the concrete with a hollow sound. Things went black for a moment. I opened my eyes and my friend and his sister were just reaching me. I got up, and I didn’t have a scratch, no bruises followed. Not a mark on my face, no bump on my head. Just this odd feeling of losing myself into some nasty abyss. His half-brother slept through it, and continued to sleep after the table collapsed out from underneath him. He woke hours later, refreshed and feeling normal, without any clue to what had happened. The table was broken by my face.

 

[Jessup2]

Experience: Timothy

Taking a break from caring for a terminally ill patient, I stepped out to the roadside for a cigarette, since the anti-smoking nazi department has infiltrated every aspect of life in the USA and are usually just a hair short of attacking anyone with a cigarette within blocks of any public way. In any case, I sat down on a bus stop bench and let the sun bake me while I enjoyed the smell and sensation of the cigarette and nicotine doing the job… ahhh. Suddenly there was a man in front of me, asking for a smoke. I gave him one without hesitation, glancing up at him, he tried to give me some change in return, but I said “No, it’s fine…”

He stuck that cigarette in his shirt pocket. I noticed that his face had quite a few pretty fresh looking gauges, scratches. One across his nose, a few on his forehead, another across a cheek. I said, “What happened to your face?”

"People like to throw rocks", he said...

Then he said, “When I fell from heaven I landed right in front of a Trimet bus. They thought I was drunk and took me to OHSU, where they gave me this (he pulls a can of beer from his pocket) and these (pulling out a container with pills). So I figured he was crazy homeless person.

He laughed, it reminded me of Santa. Then said, “People must think I’m a crazy homeless person.”

And he looked me right in the eye, laughing again. I didn’t detect any crazy in them. Sincere and happy was the look. I said, “Are you going to smoke that cigarette?”

"Maybe later" he replied. "My name is Timothy… David."

"How do you know my name?", I asked.

"Don’t be thick and slow", he said, "you know…" he smiled again, like it was something funny that I would realize any minute.

I examined his features. He appeared to be Greek, darker skin than most people in the Northwest, curly somewhat shoulder long hair, maybe 35 to 40 years old. Great teeth.

He said “Master Paul” instructed him to drink a bit of wine when he was younger, medicinally, for his stomach. But that he doesn’t usually drink and that giving him the beer was very funny to him. People are always so quick to judge and throw stones… his smile was reflected in his eyes, it was almost unnerving.

I asked if he lived around here. He repeated that he fell from heaven, in front of the bus, and was only visiting. Asking if I was not paying attention... Again he grinned and laughed.

I asked what happened to his face. He looked sad and said, “People like to throw rocks, in particular when it is something strange…”

You are very perceptive, and such a blessing, he said, and laughed again. Let me tell you something, he said, looking more serious. One of “His” favorite things is when people care for the sick. You are blessed, and loved, and appreciated.

I said, “How do you know I care for the sick, and who is “he”?”

He laughed again.

He said, I have some work to do, I have to go now. Thank you for the cigarette and please keep doing what you are doing.

I suddenly felt very dizzy, and turned to grab the bench and sit myself down. When I did, he was gone. I looked up and down that sidewalk, turned around, but he was nowhere.