Ever since my childhood, I've had what some have called a supernatural sort of power, and what others call a psychological condition. For me really, it's neither a power nor insanity; just a heightened sensitivity that can manifest itself at inconvenient times. In the best of times, (if you want to find a good side to all this), I find myself in contact with a richer and more interesting world that is populated by all sorts of beings that don't exist on our plane. The worst is when other people get mixed up in my world. Then I become sort of a canary-in-a coalmine or a modern-day witch to be hunted down, exposed, isolated somehow.
It's not often that I talk about this 'extraordinary gift' that a wiser person than I calls "being in one's astral skin." I don't really have much command over these 'powers,' and this has caused me some problems in the past. I was always annoyed by presentiment, by "vibrations" that other people gave off, but the definitive blow against bothering with this sensitivity came a few years ago, when I was a young, poor student. At that point, I decided to never mix myself up in that 'out of body' world again.
In the mountains, all alone and extremely unhappy with my situation, I ended up literally throwing myself out of my body in order to escape the pain of my daily existence. First there was great pleasure which was followed by in incredible sense of shame. Here is what happened:
I stretched myself out on my bed, not wanting to deal with anything anymore. Closing my eyes, I noted that familiar sensation of separation and finding myself weightless. Instinctively, I know that it wouldn't be such a good idea to open my eyes, as all I'd see would be my own lifeless body below. A cadaver. Something that,even if I were in a decent frame of mind wouldn't be pleasant to see. God knows what that sight would have done to my psyche at that time. I let myself be taken away on the wind at my window, preferring to fly blindly - without knowing where I'd be taken.
The feeling of flying without a body is quite different from how one feels when one is carrying around the usual 150 or so pounds of meat. You don't have the same restrictions like fear, heaviness, the feeling that you're chained to a great weight that causes you to fall, rather than float like a spirit.
I consinued to mover around as such for however long, and eventually I arrived at my destination. Opening my eyes, I was not at all shocked to find that I was in the Egyptian desert, among pyramids. Not those belonging to Khufu, but rather the pyramids designed by the first known architect, Imhotep. You know - the pyramids like those the Aztecs built in Mexico - step pyramids that always remind me of wedding cakes. A shiver of pleasure went down my back; great pleasure at feeling so at ease somewhere, at being in a place so dear to me, that I knew like the back of my hand, even if I'd only dreamt about it or read about it before. So happy to have found myself in a landscape of my childhood dreams, even though I was only the stuff of dreams. Despite my not having a body, I remember feeling very intensely.
It was nighttime and the sky took on the aspect of a "celestial dome," as people in ancient times called it. A vast dome covered in a rich, blue velvet (so blue that it made me want to cry) and sprinkled with little diamonds.
All around me it was clear and flat, and there was always this little breeze which lifted the sand. This did not annoy me, however: I floated maybe a few inches off the ground and I was protected from the elements. I clearly remember my surprise at not being bothered by characteristic cold of the desert at night, even though I was only covered in linen drape of sorts that floated on the wind. "how pleasant," I thought, just like perfect bathwater.
Blue night sky, stars, losing the weight of my body and the discomforts that came with it: the fear of cold, of being barefoot in the sand and worrying about the desert creatures...the comedy playing out of a dog barking at me whose master had no clue of my presence (evidently animals are much more sensitive than people), and a sweet little pentatonic melody coming from a flute (or was it a windchime?) which still, years later, rests within me. I continued to wander happily, without any notion of time.
Then came the beginning of the end of this world: one little thought that found its way into my consciousness. "What am I doing here?" Troubled by this question, I started immediately to feel the cold, and a foot hit the brutal sand. My weight returned and I began to cry for what seemed like forever. The return to my body was so brutal, complete with frosted and scraped-up feet. Though sick from the force of my sobbing and hyperventilating, eventually I did manage to fall asleep. The next morning, I had to make excuses to the lady I was living with: had a nightmare; homesick, etc, etc.
After that experience, I knew that I had a choice of how to deal with my two realities: either try to balance myself on this frontier, always keeping an eye out for people who'd not understand and give me problems or just let go of this joy completely, this liberty to travel without baggage, to try to make due without the different sensibility or vision. I'm not sure that I am happy with the choice I made; it feels sometimes like I've given up Color for Black-and-White. In the end, though, the decision was made and I will have to live with it until I'm strong enough to handle something different. For now, I manage to comfort myself with the good memories.