Shadow People

[ghostrider]

There is an event that happened to me , 1986 around december I was in the U.S. army 82nd airborne division ... Living off post in cameron N.C. just married and had a newborn son ... One night asleep but awake , I could see all around the room, the curtains , the dresser , the moonlight coming through the window ... I felt a presence in the room , trying to turn my head I realized I could not move , could not speak and was gripped by a fear I had never known ...Thinking only one thing , I must get my weapon under the bed and protect my family from this intruder ... A deep panic , deep sweat , trying to move but , unable , my whole body vibrating in desperation , this shadow being noticed that I noticed it's presence... looking at me , it was the shadow of a person with only two features , Large eyes and tiger teeth ...it spoke to my head, I can control you without touching you ... it vanished , I suddenly could move , I grabbed my machine gun and ran around my house and scared the crap out of the entire neighborhood ... The days that followed I ran to over 40 different churches , reading the bible, talking to anyone that would listen , for 27 years I struggled to understand what was this ??? I now have the answer that was hidden from me , when the spirit leaves the body ( OBE) the first stage is sleep paralysis, to keep us from acting out our dreams ... shadow figures are common, pulled from our own consciousness ... The answer was right inside of me all along, not our there in a church or a belief ... I feel the spirit on me now writing this , I found a vid that talks a little about the shadow people but , I feel for those involved because they are looking in the wrong direction and don't know it ... We are supposed to leave our bodies, travel in spiritual realms , raising your vibrations and sleep paralysis is part of the process, not to fear, we only fear what we don't understand, and we can't ask questions outside of our own understanding ... take a look , and a listen , for those that have had encounters with shadow people , it's your spiritual self passing through the realms , if you are strong and peaceful , it's awesome, if you live in fear, your travels will manifest shadow beings , they are creations of our creational consciousness ... My hope is this information will bring comfort to anyone struggling to understand as I once did ... peace http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPIBRNDrw20

[shadowstalker]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPIBRNDrw20

[ghostrider]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPIBRNDrw20

much thanks my friend ...

[sdv]

I experienced sleep paralysis in my twenties and it was terrifying. I never saw that malevolent threatening presence ... just felt it ... the heat, the evil, the threat, the presence.

I shared the experience with some friends and they mocked me and told me I was crazy, so have never spoken about it until now.

What I discovered was that if I concentrated all my will on the effort of moving, just a finger, I would snap out of that state and the terrifying presence would disappear. That became my lifeline. 'You have to move'. But, I can't move, but I know I must and so I focus everything I am and can be in getting a finger to move, because when I do, it magically snaps me out of the paralysis and the malevolent presence disappears.

There is only one other time when I have experienced such a concentration of will (I am a lazy person) ... managing pain. I would focus my whole being on relaxation and acceptance of the physical pain as a natural process (bypassing the instinctive tensing up and rejection of the pain and the intellectual drive to remove the pain).

Many years later, I found an explanation of sleep paralysis that made intellectual sense but now I wonder ... my father once said that he experienced OBE but I never had a conversation with him about it and he died before I could, and in my dreams I often seem to visit the spiritual realm.

If the sleep paralysis (which has not happened for many years now) is about being woken up during an OBE, then, well, this is a new avenue of inquiry for me...

:cool:

[jackovesk]

I'll say this much...

2 Days after my last forced Avalon vacation, I was violently Psychically (Attacked)...:scared:

By what seemed like a female (Alien/Devil)

[Ron Mauer Sr]

My last sleep paralysis was months ago. Somehow I knew that if I blew air on my shoulder the paralysis would end. It worked immediately.

I was not aware of anyone nearby.

[naste.de.lumina]

The paralysis is mandatory when the shift away from astral body ( aura , etheric double , etc. , there are many names ) the physical body and can occur during meditation, but more commonly occurs during sleep .
The ' output ' of the 'conscience' of the body is much more common than we have in there.
During sleep the same can occur totally unaware ( most common ) , semi - aware and fully conscious.
The metabolism slows down and some of this energy field that surrounds us moves , getting turned on by so-called ' silver cord ' .
This conscious sensation of paralysis happens while the coupling is not totally complete .
It has nothing to worry about . Wait few seconds or minutes that all back to normal .
The presences felt , can be our own creations , but can also be spirits that are in the same vibrational band (frequency in Hertz ) in which your body of energy .
So if you're too scared , the possibility of finding densest and negative entities is greater .
In this case , I suggest you control and elevate your thoughts to compassion.
Your vibration will increase rapidly which will change its range of reality to a higher level .

[donk]

Well whatever the eff they are someone has the technology/ability to use/control them, even if they're (unwittingly) created as independent manifestations of someone's consciousness.

[ghostrider]

Well whatever the eff they are someone has the technology/ability to use/control them, even if they're (unwittingly) created as independent manifestations of someone's consciousness.

here is the beautiful part , once you know, you can meet the illusion of threat head on , and take power over it ... you set it up before you fall asleep , remember from the sci-fi movie Dune ??? there is something to you speaking your will and might of thoughts and knowledge produces spiritual energy that can be used as a weapon aginst evil , illusion or not ...

[ghostrider]

Take it all down to simple terms , UFO's ET's, NWO , etc , at the end of the day , we all , everyone living being on day , will leave their body ...that energy of life that is the real you , will leave the container , join with the planets' energy of life , and 152 yrs and 21 days it will return to a host body ... the circle of life ... the next step in our evolution is understanding the process , we exsist in the container, learn , grow, and then leave the container ...this process , no one can avoid, no one ... I will hear the sound of a humming bird in my left ear , my heartbeat gets fast like I've been jogging, that's when the energy of life in your container is about to leave the body and be free , with practice one can learn to do this easily ... it is my opinion the shadow people are a manifestation of our fears of the unknown ...thats' why they are just a shadow , we can't ask questions outside our own understanding ... NOTICE everyone sees a shadow , never specific details , just a shadow figure lurking nearby that makes me afraid . its almost like we put a saftey net up , so if our heart is not pure we cannot leave our body , if there is fear in you , the shadow figure keeps you in your container until the truth sets you free = love conquers all , true love conquers fear ... I can't let this go , I'm being pushed to point at the shadow people as the man behind the curtain in the wizard of oz ... we created them with our own fears of the unknown about life after death of the container ...

[Kalamos]

..........

[ghostrider]

I don't know how important it is but , they say when you lie down if you can try and have your head facing north and your feet facing south ...take it or leave it , some have suggested it's an alighment that is needed for a clear transition out of the body with few obstacles ... now that I think about it , hmmm sacred geometry , ya know the pyramids aren't just thrown together , it's precision , in harmony with the stars ... our bodies must be lined up with earth , the magnetic field all sorts of little nuts and bolts stuff ... I'm convinced we must walk in perfect love , keeping out the shadow people interference ...no fear , just calm , love , peace ... does anyone ever see waves of energy in rings coming down behind your eyelids when you are about to project ??? it's sort of like lightning and clouds without the boom ...something big is about to happen , I never get this way unless big changes are coming ...within 48hrs , heads up ... eyes open ... I have hidden from the shadow people topic for over twenty years but , today I go full ahead right at it ...hmmmmmm energy is surging like waves in the ocean ...

[jackovesk]

Have any of you ever woken up to an Angel fighting off a (Demon/Alien) who then dematerialized and escaped in a white (Metallic Cube) that then proceeded to fly straight through a wall (Right before my very Eyes) even though I literally tried to stop it without any luck...:faint:

http://i.imgur.com/mtzcN.gif

The Cube was approx. 200mm X 200mm



It was white/metallic in color
It was suspended in mid-air & to move, it would start oscillating whilst move in its set direction...
It had what looked like metal edges/corners and strange hieroglyphics within a metallic side on each side
It flew straight through my bedroom wall, I tried to take a swipe at it but I missed



I'll tell ya what...

It scared the (Fking-$hit) out me...:scared:

It wasn't a Dream...:nono:

It was (Real)...:yes4:

[WHOMADEGOD]

Gotta love them winged brethren! :-)

[Jake]

For the record, Sleep Paralysis is the bodies natural mechanism to prevent the 'acting out of dreams'. We cannot simply thrash around in our sleeping states,,, it will cause injury, even death. Every single persons body paralyses itself,, each and every time we sleep. Being consciously aware of these episodes (mind/awake, body/asleep or a deeply relaxed meditative or trance state) will bring about what psychologists refer to as 'hypnogogic' or 'hypnopompic' hallucinations. (They do not have a reasonable explanation for it,, really...)

It is in these delicate states, between sleep and awake, that we can engage our proper abilities to project into the astral states.

Folks, There will be shadow people. We have decided to embark on a journey to master (what we call,,) the ASTRAL! :):)
Other spheres of consciousness do not see it as esoteric or magical. In fact, it is the preferred 'way of being' for many forms of life. Many physical Beings have also mastered the astral,, and reveal themselves to us in 'astral' form,,,, then we wake into the physical, and talk about abduction. (NOT downplaying the physical/form abduction experience...)

Much of what we are going to encounter will not have an ET flavor to it,, at all!!! Shadow people are part of it,,, period. I do not know who or what they are. My experience tells me that they are many different types of 'beings' that we are having trouble interpreting,, so we see SHADOW PEOPLE. The point is, if you are seeing them,,, then you have engaged a higher, (less physical) set of 'senses'. And it is inevitable....

I hesitated to post. I don't want to take away from what folks have to say.

As we push out, and engage the universe,, it will engage us back!!! :) It is not all that bad, really. :):)

Jake.

[Sunny-side-up]

Great post!
Just two little adds from me:

Cleans your mind, cleans your energies, cleans your intent just before you go to sleep!
I guess this is one of the original functions of 'Bedtime Prayers' :angel:

Yes direction I have found is important (Sacred geometry)(Physical alignment)
Try meditation with your head facing down, analyze the results.
Then try meditating with head tilted skywards at 45 degree angle, see if any difference!

Love and Hugs.

[Selene]

Ahh, here you are, Jake. Glad to see you on this thread and greatly appreciate your comments – you are indeed our Flying Master, if I may say so.

I remember that during my first consciously-induced OBE, I was utterly flabbergasted to find two beings hovering near me when I exited my body. While they seemed quite benign, nothing I had read or heard prior had told me there might be “others” in the room at that point. I was so shocked by their presence that I literally dived back into my body. It was frozen motionless; I frantically commanded myself: wake up! Wake up!

And I could actually feel my heart start to beat normally, the blood begin to flow in my veins and my breathing return.

So it’s comforting to hear about this from your experience, Jake.

Cheers,

Selene

[naste.de.lumina]

I humbly recommend you for the opportunity to attend this interview:

http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?65767-Doctor-and-Mediun-Waldo-Vieira--worked-with-Chico-Xavier--explaining-Projectiology-Conscientiology

Abraço.

[chocolate]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPIBRNDrw20

THANK YOU!
So that is what I escaped from few weeks ago. Finally I see some more practical and logical explanation. Thanks, shadowstalker !!!
I know I barely made it. And now I know it was real,not my mind playing a trick on me.
I am not sure now that I know if I feel better or worse... ;)

[ghostrider]

As I tell my co-workers , you learn by doing , and by making mistakes ... there is alot to grasp about our real bodies , and the workings of our inner spiritual being , the more we share experiences , the more we learn , the more we can push the boundaries , we won't know our limits until we test them ... so much good information here , I read ... oh yes , the state of mind you are in at bedtime ... very important ... some of my best lucid dreams or OBE's were just after I listened to some nature sounds on a headset , waterfalls , birds , the sound of a fireplace , anything that calms you so you are at ease ... very light covers , comfortable pjs , and there is a mechanism that tries to keep us from experiencing our real selves ...electronic impulses from TV's and computers , switch them off ... how many fall asleep with the Tv still on ??? subliminal sounds into your sub-conscious , not a good idea ...the sleep paralysis is a sure sign you have begun to seperate from our physical body , it keeps us from acting out our dreams ...just know , you go where you think , thoughts are the gas pedal ... I hope this thread helps others move beyond the veil and puts the shadow people in perspective ...

[ghostrider]

Avalon has helped me move past a 27 yr old mystery ... I want to say THANKS , I am forever in debt to ALL of you ... my inner most fear is gone ... group hug ... now just maybe I can learn something from a place of peace and love without any more fear ... this is the greatest place on the web to be by far ... feels good to be at peace at home , and just in time for the holidays ... hooooyaaahhhh ... my love to everyone ...

[Wind]

All I can say that since last year I've had visitation from beings from time to time... I guess it has something to do with Avalon. Sometimes maybe once or twice a month, I get a glimpse of them in very real dream states and I know that they're not hallucinations or parts of dreams. They are real and sometimes they scare me... I only remember a very little of those encounters, but less than two weeks ago I saw dark beings jump to my bed and then later I saw white orbs or light around me. I'm not sure if that white or golden light tried to protect me from them?

I don't know if gold/white yellow coloured energy is always benevolent? I just know those dark ones aren't. I see black and white orbs every day, they're almost constantly around me.

[Kalamos]

..........

[bogeyman]

When I was a kid I too have encounters with the shadow people. I remember them having a form and the eyes seem to light up. I do remember they called themselves the creators of some sort, what ever that means.

[Jake]

When I was a kid I too have encounters with the shadow people. I remember them having a form and the eyes seem to light up. I do remember they called themselves the creators of some sort, what ever that means.

Yes,, I remember the eyes. They used to shine red,, or glow red. I remember 'hat man'... It is where my infatuation with the 'v' character comes from.

Jake.

[powessy]

ghostrider I also served with the 82nd from 88 till 91 fort brag 13b10p Many of my worst experiences with obe occurred in the military. I at the time was messing with the fact that I could tap into the spiritual energies supplied by the sheepel god, Satan, Buddha and Ala things none the less got strange for me because paralysis and obe go hand in hand some times my whole room was filled with all sorts of entities. everything you said here was accurate till you addressed what you saw as manifestations of the creational consciousness, this is where you are wrong there are things there. There were those that chose to stay after death or were not strong enough in the end to fight and were turned, there ability of deception is more powerful then an experienced lucid dreamer because they know the rules and we didn't. I feel anyone unaware is able to fall into these traps regardless of your faith the less you believe the stronger they became and it's not just belief in a god or a church its the belief that you are part of something bigger and that she is your mother, we call her(gaia). The shadows are not what you want them to be they are what they think you fear the most, this lead you in the direction they wanted for you to conform to the church and instill fear so that you would not seek the truth. the paralysis is the only thing that stopped you from reacting it had nothing to do with what you saw it only helped them in there quest. live strong be strong hooah.

[powessy]

calamus you must live in a wetter climate or more humid. the thicker the air the larger the dots don't worry you are ok many people are just now noticing this I have seen them all my life or as long as I can remember, take a moment and stare at a design on a flat surface focus on one point you will see the layers start to move in different directions I think they are related. maybe this is why I have never fully felt as if I belonged here I can stare at my hands forever and I still don't feel as though they are mine you would think after 43 years this would go away.

[Mark]

How interesting. The topic has been discussed numerous times here in PA and I've participated in a few of them. It is always revelatory to make the connection between sleep paralysis and OOBEs. Congratulations upon making it. After a childhood of experiencing it pretty much weekly, I found out what it was 25 years ago, when I was 21. The man who showed me was Robert Monroe, his book, Journey's Out of the Body. Since then, the journeys have been out of this world. Someday I will write about it.

But what is of extreme interest to me in this thread is the military connection. I have it as well. In fact, I found out what it was, while I was in the military, the Army, stationed in Germany. Growing up as an Air Force brat, on bases around the world, also has me thoughtful. Thanks for that interesting connection. My most intense experiences were during my time active duty as well.

[DNA]

There is an event that happened to me , 1986 around december I was in the U.S. army 82nd airborne division ... Living off post in cameron N.C. just married and had a newborn son ... One night asleep but awake , I could see all around the room, the curtains , the dresser , the moonlight coming through the window ... I felt a presence in the room , trying to turn my head I realized I could not move , could not speak and was gripped by a fear I had never known ...Thinking only one thing , I must get my weapon under the bed and protect my family from this intruder ... A deep panic , deep sweat , trying to move but , unable , my whole body vibrating in desperation , this shadow being noticed that I noticed it's presence... looking at me , it was the shadow of a person with only two features , Large eyes and tiger teeth ...it spoke to my head, I can control you without touching you ... it vanished , I suddenly could move , I grabbed my machine gun and ran around my house and scared the crap out of the entire neighborhood ... The days that followed I ran to over 40 different churches , reading the bible, talking to anyone that would listen , for 27 years I struggled to understand what was this ??? I now have the answer that was hidden from me , when the spirit leaves the body ( OBE) the first stage is sleep paralysis, to keep us from acting out our dreams ... shadow figures are common, pulled from our own consciousness ... The answer was right inside of me all along, not our there in a church or a belief ... I feel the spirit on me now writing this , I found a vid that talks a little about the shadow people but , I feel for those involved because they are looking in the wrong direction and don't know it ... We are supposed to leave our bodies, travel in spiritual realms , raising your vibrations and sleep paralysis is part of the process, not to fear, we only fear what we don't understand, and we can't ask questions outside of our own understanding ... take a look , and a listen , for those that have had encounters with shadow people , it's your spiritual self passing through the realms , if you are strong and peaceful , it's awesome, if you live in fear, your travels will manifest shadow beings , they are creations of our creational consciousness ... My hope is this information will bring comfort to anyone struggling to understand as I once did ... peace http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KPIBRNDrw20

I absolutely positively believe that these beings are not creations of our own.
If you believe that you are having an OBE while dreaming, and that you are outside of your physical self, why would you think everything you encounter is your projection?

It stands to reason this would be the case if you did not believe your soul was the source of the perception but instead the entire event was in the mind.
But you validate the OBE aspect of the dream, as such, you should validate that the things you are perceiving are in fact other things not residing in a physical body.

It is my belief that 999 times out of a 1000 what people are perceiving are common everyday ghosts that need to feed on you via your aura and intensify this feeding while you sleep through the manipulation of dreams.
It is also my belief that ghosts have a learned manuever they use when your soul is reentering your body that causes the dream like but aware paralysis that incites so much fear and panic. This is called the Old Hag Syndrome, but I have experienced it being caused by male ghosts as well. The manuever causes your soul to not quite enter your body all the way and as such your senses are activated but your motor skills are not.

The shadow being is a tad bit more sinister in my opinion.
I believe a sort of petrification takes place to an entity when it chooses to not participate in the natural order of reincarnation.
This petrification replaces the normal god like soul energy with, well, something that is the opposite of light.
It is so opposite that it can normally only be seen out of the corner of your eyes.
These beings feed on the human aura as well, and tend to "cord" the beings they feed on.
They do not "control" you per se, but they can take advantage of actions that step down your energy to their preferred wattage.
One of these favorite and preferred transformers of god light is sexual energy.
I have an experience where I describe an interaction with one of these beings HERE (http://projectavalon.net/forum4/showthread.php?28318-My-Interactions-With-A-Shadow-Being.)

http://projectavalon.net/forum4/asset.php?fid=6110&uid=6168&d=1307776664

[DNA]

But what is of extreme interest to me in this thread is the military connection. I have it as well. In fact, I found out what it was, while I was in the military, the Army, stationed in Germany. Growing up as an Air Force brat, on bases around the world, also has me thoughtful. Thanks for that interesting connection. My most intense experiences were during my time active duty as well.

It has been my personal experience that some of the most profound spiritual experiences can occur when we are in peak physical shape.
And as Bruce Lee stated, running is the king of all exercise.
Running like yoga is forced meditation really, you are forced to breath properly and cycle your chi through your aura.

I've experienced out of body look down at my sleeping self experiences as well as constant lucid dreaming while in top physical shape.

I will say this though, it is really hard to stay in top physical shape like that with the demands the world places on us.
That being said, the army demands top physical shape and daily running, so it's one of those deals where these things would seem to occur a tad bit more often I would think.

[DNA]

How interesting. The topic has been discussed numerous times here in PA and I've participated in a few of them. It is always revelatory to make the connection between sleep paralysis and OOBEs. Congratulations upon making it. After a childhood of experiencing it pretty much weekly, I found out what it was 25 years ago, when I was 21. The man who showed me was Robert Monroe, his book, Journey's Out of the Body. Since then, the journeys have been out of this world. Someday I will write about it.

But what is of extreme interest to me in this thread is the military connection. I have it as well. In fact, I found out what it was, while I was in the military, the Army, stationed in Germany. Growing up as an Air Force brat, on bases around the world, also has me thoughtful. Thanks for that interesting connection. My most intense experiences were during my time active duty as well.

I ran into this quote and again thought of the army and what you had stated Rahkyt.
It must be stated that along with exercise the army does require discipline. I love me some Don Juan first thing in the morning. :)

Carlos Castaneda
"Your total physical mass has to be added to your energy body," don Juan replied, looking into her eyes. "The great difficulty of this maneuver is to discipline the energy body, a thing the two of you have already done. Lack of discipline is the only reason the two of you may fail in performing this feat of ultimate stalking. Sometimes, as a fluke, an average person ends up performing it and entering into another world. But this is immediately explained away as insanity or hallucination.

[Jake]

Wow, some interesting connections are being made here. Powessy,, my brother served with the 82nd out of Ft Brag NC. Then he was 126 Transpo Company supporting the 82nd in Desert Storm. He was also born in Germany, in a Military Hospital. I was born in Colorado in a Military Hospital. My brother and I have taken two completely different paths. His time in the Military has completely augmented his experiences in the astral. He will even deny them now. Something happened to him. !!! Something has been happening to me too!!!

I am on the side of the fence that assumes that these things are not just figments of an overactive mind, or a manifestation of some Freudian impulse.... I do not think so!! They type of Freudian manifestations, can be controlled and/or curbed with a strong sovereign attitude, and a willingness to explore and shed layers. These strange shadowy folk,,, they are different. Again, they will hide in the dark recesses of our minds, if we have enough of them,,, but if we flush those out,,, they will be forced to try other methods. I think they are lazy. Once one conquers some basic fears,,, they basically,, go away. (Not always, they may regroup and try something new,,,) but it is most likely they will simply turn and feed off of someone else. IMHO

Keeping a mind active and aware while the body paralyzes itself will bring about the disconnect that is critical for a fully conscious, exit-projection. (But not required.) Some projectors do not deal with elusive shadowy creatures. Some projectors will not feel the vibrational stage, nor intense energy body sensations. About a 3rd will. I participate in many of the online 'projects' that deal with this phenomenon. Here is some Results of one of them. (http://www.astralinfo.org/survey-results/) There is really no ONE way, that the OBE will be experienced.

Ghostrider,,, Your experience in the army was like my first experiences as a kid. Just terrifying,, a sharp raw fear that I have yet to feel otherwise. I believe that they are there to keep us from discovering this hidden potential. If this world discovers that they are more than their physical bodies,,, then GAME OVER for the powers that have benefitted from our temporary blindness. They are powerful, they are savvy, they control mastery over the astral, and mental arenas,,,, but they are cowards. They cannot face our strengths. only our weaknesses. That should say something to you all.....

I am beside myself... pun intended.
Jake.

[naste.de.lumina]

This happened to me just now. Are almost 17:00 hours of daylight here where I live, so would be tantamount to 16:00 in the normal linear time.

Shortly after lunch around 14:00 hours lay out for a nap.
I started a video called FREQUENCY OF LOVE 528 DNA REPAIR
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=cFgv4vPevIQ
Help me in stimulating the chakras, especially the front.

Travel
There was a darkening between dusk and night. I was in a kind of workbench to a 2 storey soil. I saw a person walking alongside me at a distance of about 15 meters. As if in a porch or elevated walkway of a house. I recognized my father (died 28/06/2012).
His appearance was good although I can not feel their emotions.
I shouted 'father ... father'. He stopped and looked around, as if he could not identify the author's voice. I said, 'you do not know me, I'm your son.'
Now he was looking at me when he responded: 'I have no kids, just me and my wife.'
I thought I'd concentrate to send a wave of energy from my front to him with the information of who I was .
At that moment something behind me caught my attention.
I saw two beings and I heard one say to the other'' him or you? ' will be one of the stars of the Institute of the dream '
It was like I was walking around them to try to look on their faces.
When I got to look at what had just spoken, as he noticed my presence I've seen the face. The face seemed very like a Wolverine, only their eyes looked a reptile. He raised his head towards the horizon, put a hand to the side of his mouth and shouted something I did not hear.
When I looked in the direction he had shouted, itself a shadow of a being coming towards me. Do not know if he was flying or had just jumped. A shiver of fear began to go through my body. That's when I thought 'I need to feel love, radiate love' trying to concentrate. The shadow shifted a bit, enough to not fall on me.
I woke up at this point.
I need to learn to control my feelings on these trips.
I feel that the war is really important happens in this other dimension and need to train more consistently and if I want to be an effective warrior side light.

Very crazy these astral journeys. I love it.

Naste.

[DNA]

It was like I was walking around them to try to look on their faces.
When I got to look at what had just spoken, as he noticed my presence I've seen the face. The face seemed very like a Wolverine, only their eyes looked a reptile. He raised his head towards the horizon, put a hand to the side of his mouth and shouted something I did not hear.
When I looked in the direction he had shouted, itself a shadow of a being coming towards me. Do not know if he was flying or had just jumped. A shiver of fear began to go through my body. That's when I thought 'I need to feel love, radiate love' trying to concentrate. The shadow shifted a bit, enough to not fall on me.
I woke up at this point.

I'm struck by this statement.
I might be wrong, but I have always been of the opinion that some energetic configuirations want to live on after we die and have some personality characteristics about them. The story below comes from Florinda Donner's "The Witches Dream". It is about just such an instance. A story about a young man who inherited an energetic configuration of sorts while he sat at the side of a man who was dying.


Florinda Donner's "The Witch's Dream"
I walked a few steps down the path, and watched an old man get out from a green truck parked at the bottom of the hill. His coat hung loosely on his stooped shoulders, and a straw hat covered his head.
Aware of being watched, he looked up, and waved his walking stick by way of greeting.
I waved in return.
"It's the old man you treated last night," I told her.
"How fortunate!" she murmured. "Call him. Tell him to come up here. Tell him I want to see him. My gift to you begins now."
I walked down to where his truck was parked and asked the old man to walk back up the hill with me. He followed me without a word.
"No dogs today," he said to Mercedes Peralta by way of greeting, and sat beside her.
"Let me tell you a secret, Musiua," she said, beckoning me to sit across from her.
"I am a medium, a witch, and a healer. Of the three, I like the second because witches have a particular way of understanding the mysteries of fate.
"Why is it that some people get rich, successful, and happy, while others find only hardship and pain?
"Whatever decides those things is not what you call fate: It's something more mysterious than that. And only witches know about it."
Her features strained for an instant with an expression I could not fathom as she turned to Octavio Cantu.
"Some people say that we're born with our fate. Others claim that we make our fate with our actions.
"Witches say that it's neither and that something else catches us like the dog catcher catches a dog. The secret is to be there if we want to be caught, or not to be there if we don't want to be caught."
Her glance strayed to the eastern sky, where the sun was rising over the distant mountains. After a few moments she faced the old man once more. Her eyes seemed to have absorbed the sun's radiance, for they shone as if smeared with fire.
"Octavio Cantu is coming to the house for his seasonal treatments," she said. "Perhaps little by little he'll weave a tale for you. A tale about how chance joins lives together and how that something that only witches know about fastens them into one bundle."
Octavio Cantu nodded his head in agreement. A tentative smile parted his lips. The scant beard on his chin was as white as the hair sticking out from under his straw hat.
Octavio Cantu came to dona Mercedes' house eight times. Apparently she had been treating him periodically since he was a young man.
Besides being old and run down, he was an alcoholic. Dona Mercedes emphasized, however, that all his maladies were of the spirit. He needed incantations, not medicines.
At first, he hardly talked to me, but then he began to open up, feeling more confident perhaps. We spent long hours talking about his life.
At the beginning of each of our sessions, he invariably seemed to succumb to despair, loneliness, suspicion. He demanded to know why I was interested in his life.
But he always checked himself and regained his aplomb, and for the rest of the session- whether an hour or an entire afternoon- he would talk about himself as if he were some other person.
Octavio pushed the flat piece of cardboard aside, and edged in through the small doorlike opening of the shack.
There was no light inside, and the pungent smoke of the dwindling fire in the stone hearth made his eyes tear. He shut them tight and groped his way in the darkness. He tripped over some tins and banged his shin on a wooden crate.
"Damn stinking place," he swore under his breath.
He sat for a moment on the packed dirt floor, and rubbed his leg.
In the farthest corner of the wretched shack, he saw the old man asleep on a discarded, worn-out backseat of a car. Slowly, avoiding the crates, ropes, rags, and boxes scattered on the ground, he walked bent over to where the old man was lying.
Octavio lit a match. In the dim light the sleeping man looked dead. The rising and falling of his chest was so slight he hardly seemed to breathe. High cheekbones protruded from his black, emaciated face. His torn, dirty khaki pants were rolled up his calves. His long- sleeved khaki shirt was buttoned tightly around his wrinkled neck.
"Victor Julio!" Octavio shouted, shaking him vigorously. "Wake up, old man!"
Victor Julio's trembling, wrinkled eyelids opened for a moment. Only the discolored white of his eyes showed before he shut them again.
"Wake up!" Octavio cried out with exasperation. He reached for the narrow-brimmed straw hat on the ground, and pushed it down hard on the old man's unkempt white hair.
"Who the hell are you?" Victor Julio grumbled. "What do you want?"
"I'm Octavio Cantu. I've been appointed by the mayor as your helper," he explained with an air of importance.
"Helper?" Unsteadily the old man sat up. "I need no helper." He slipped into his worn-out laceless shoes and staggered around the dark room until he found the gasoline lantern. He lit it. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and, blinking repeatedly, regarded the young man carefully.
Octavio Cantu was of medium height, with strong muscles, visible through his unbuttoned, faded blue jacket. His pants, which seemed too large for him, bagged over his new shiny boots. Victor Julio chuckled, wondering if Octavio Cantu had stolen them.
"So you're the new man," he said in a rasping voice, trying to determine the color of Octavio's eyes, shaded by a red baseball cap. They were shifty eyes, the color of moist earth.
Victor Julio decided there was something decidedly suspicious about the young man. "I've never seen you around here," he said. "Where do you come from?"
"Paraguana," Octavio answered curtly. "I've been here for a while. I've seen you several times at the plaza."
"Paraguana," the old man repeated dreamily. "I've seen the sand dunes of Paraguana."
He shook his head and in a harsh voice demanded, "What are you doing in this godforsaken place? Don't you know that there is no future in this town? Haven't you noticed that the young people have migrated to the cities?"
"It's all going to change," Octavio declared, eager to steer the conversation away from himself.
"This town is going to grow. Foreigners are buying up the cacao groves and the sugarcane fields. They are going to build factories. People are going to flock to this town. People are going to get rich."
Victor Julio doubled up with mocking laughter. "Factories aren't for those like us. If you stick around long enough, you'll end up like me."
He put his hand on Octavio's arm. "I know why you're so far away from Paraguana. You're running away from something, aren't you?" he asked, staring hard into the young man's restless eyes.
"What if I am?" Octavio shifted uncomfortably.
Octavio realized that he didn't have to tell him anything. No one knew about him in this town.
Yet, something in the old man's eyes unnerved him. "I had some trouble back home," he muttered evasively.
Victor Julio shuffled over toward the opening of the shack, reached for his burlap sack hanging on a rusty nail, and took out a bottle of cheap rum. His hands, crisscrossed by protruding veins, shook uncontrollably as he unscrewed the lid of the bottle. He gulped repeatedly, heedless of the amber liquid trailing down his scraggly beard.
"There is a lot of work to be done," Octavio said. "We better get going."
"I was young like you when I was appointed by another mayor as a helper to an old man," Victor Julio reminisced.
"I too was strong and eager to work. And look at me now. The rum doesn't even burn my throat any longer."
Squatting on the ground, Victor Julio searched for his walking stick. "This cane belonged to the old man. He gave it to me before he died."
He held up the dark, highly polished stick to Octavio. "It's made of hardwood from the Amazon jungle. It will never break."
Octavio glanced briefly at the cane, and then asked impatiently, "Is the stuff we need here? Or do we still have to get it?"
The old man grinned. "The meat has been soaking since yesterday. It should be ready by now. It's outside behind the shack in a steel drum."
"Are you going to show me how to fix the meat?" Octavio asked.
Victor Julio laughed. All his front teeth were missing. The remaining yellow molars looked like two pillars in his cavernous mouth.
"There is really nothing to show," he said in between giggles.
"I just go to the pharmacist every time I want to prepare the meat. He's the one who mixes the beef tenderizer.
"Actually," he explained, "it's more like a marinade." His mouth spread into a wide grin.
"I always get the meat from the slaughterhouse, compliments of the mayor."
He took another gulp from the bottle. "Rum helps me to prepare myself." He rubbed his chin dry.
"The dogs are going to catch up with me one of these days," he mumbled under his breath and handed the half-empty bottle to Octavio. "You better have some too."
"No thanks," Octavio refused politely. "I can't drink on an empty stomach."
Victor Julio opened his mouth ready to say something. Instead, he picked up his walking stick and his burlap sack, and motioned Octavio to follow him outside.
Absorbed, Victor Julio stood for a moment and watched the sky. It was neither dark nor light but that strange oppressive gray that comes before dawn. In the distance he heard the barking of a dog.
"There's the meat," he said, pointing with his chin to the steel drum standing on a tree stump.
He handed Octavio a bundle of ropes. "It'll be easier to carry the drum if you tie it on your back."
Expertly, Octavio looped the ropes around the steel drum, lifted it on his back, then crossed the ropes over his chest, and tied them securely below his navel. "Is this all we need?" he asked, avoiding the old man's gaze.
"I've some extra rope and a can of kerosene in my sack," Victor Julio explained and took another gulp of rum. Absentmindedly, he stuffed the bottle in his pocket.
In single file they followed the dry gully that cut across the cane break.
All was silent except for the fading buzz of the crickets and the gentle breeze rustling through the bladelike leaves of the cane.
Victor Julio had trouble breathing. His chest hurt. He felt so tired he wanted to lie down on the hard ground.
He turned often to gaze at his shack in the distance. A foreboding feeling crossed his mind. The end was near.
He had known for a long time that he was too old and feeble to do all the work he was supposed to do. It would be only a matter of time before they got a new man.
"Victor Julio, come on," Octavio called impatiently. "It's getting late."
The town was still asleep.
Only a few old women on their way to church were about. With their heads covered by dark veils, they hurried past the two men without returning their greetings.
On the narrow concrete sidewalks, seeking the protection of the silent houses, scrawny, sickly looking dogs lay curled up in front of closed doors.
At Victor Julio's command, Octavio lowered the steel drum on the ground, and opened the tight lid.
Using the long wooden pliers he had retrieved from his burlap sack, the old man picked chunks of meat from the drum.
And as he and Octavio slowly made their way through town, he fed every stray dog they came across. Hungrily, wagging their tails, the animals devoured the fatal meal.
"The dogs will feed on you in hell," a fat woman shouted before disappearing through the large wooden door of the old colonial church at the other side of the plaza.
"No rabies this year," Victor Julio shouted back, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "I think we got them all well fed for the hereafter."
"I counted seventeen," Octavio complained, stretching his sore back. "That's a lot of dead dogs to pull."
"The biggest one we won't have to carry," Victor Julio said, a sinister smile twisting his face. "There is one dog that won't die in the street."
"What do you mean?" Octavio asked, turning his red baseball cap around on his head, a puzzled look on his face.
Victor Julio's eyes narrowed, his pupils sparkled with an evil glint. His thin old body shivered with anticipation.
"I'm all keyed up. Now, I'm going to kill the Lebanese storekeeper's black German shepherd."
"You can't do that," Octavio protested. "It's not a stray dog. It's not sick. It's well fed. The mayor said only stray sickly dogs."
Victor Julio swore loudly, then looked at his helper with a wicked expression.
He was certain that this was the last time he would have access to the poison. If not Octavio, then someone else would be in charge of disposing of the dogs at the end of the next dry season.
He could understand why the young man didn't want to cause any trouble in town, but that was not any of his concern. He had wanted to kill the Lebanese's dog ever since it had bitten him. This was his last chance.
"That dog is trained to attack," Victor Julio said. "Every time it gets loose it bites someone. It bit me some months ago."
He pulled up his pant leg. "Look at the scar!" he muttered angrily, rubbing the purple, knotty spot on his calf. "The Lebanese didn't even bother to take me to a doctor. For all I knew that dog could have had rabies."
"But it didn't and you can't kill it," Octavio insisted. "The dog isn't in the street. It's got an owner." He looked imploringly at the old man. "You're only asking for trouble."
"Who cares," Victor Julio snapped belligerently. "I hate that animal and I won't have another chance to kill it."
Victor Julio flung his burlap sack over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go."
Unwillingly, Octavio followed the old man through a narrow side street toward the outskirts of town. They stopped in front of a large, green stucco house.
"The dog must be in the back," Victor Julio said. "Let's have a look." They walked along the brick wall encircling the backyard. There was no sign of the dog.
"We better leave," Octavio whispered. "I'm sure the dog sleeps inside the house."
"It'll come out," Victor Julio said, trailing his walking stick along the wall.
Loud barking splintered the morning stillness. Excitedly, the old man jumped up and down on his frail legs, brandishing his walking stick in the air above his head. "Give me the rest of the meat!" he demanded.
Octavio unfastened the ropes from his chest, and reluctantly lowered the steel drum to the ground. The old man picked out the last pieces of meat with the wooden pliers, and flung them over the wall.
"Just listen to that beast gulping down that poisoned meat," Victor Julio said gleefully. "That vicious brute is as hungry as the rest of them."
"Let's get out of here fast," Octavio hissed, lifting the steel drum on his back.
"There's no hurry." Victor Julio laughed. A sensation of elation invaded his body as he looked for something on which to stand.
"Let's go," Octavio insisted. "We're going to get caught."
"We won't," Victor Julio assured him calmly, climbing on the shaky wooden crate he had propped against the wall.
He stood on his toes and looked at the raging dog. Barking furiously, the animal spat foam and blood in an effort to wrench loose whatever had stuck in its throat.
Its legs grew rigid. It toppled over. Powerful spasms wheeled its body around.
Victor Julio shivered. "It's even hard to die," he murmured, stepping down from the crate. He didn't feel any satisfaction in having killed the Lebanese's German shepherd.
In all the years of poisoning dogs, he had always avoided seeing them die. He had never enjoyed killing the town's stray mongrels, but it was the only job that had been available to him.
A vague fear filled Victor Julio's heart. He looked down the empty road.
He curled his left thumb backward and placed the walking stick between it and his wrist. Holding his arm outstretched, he started to move the stick back and forth so rapidly the cane seemed to be suspended in midair.
"What kind of trick is that?" Octavio asked, watching him enthralled.
"It's no trick. It's an art. This is what I do best," Victor Julio explained sadly.
"In the mornings and afternoons I entertain the small children in the plaza with my dancing stick. Some of the children are friendly to me."
He handed the cane to Octavio. "Try it. See if you can do it."
Victor Julio laughed at Octavio's clumsy attempt to hold the stick properly.
"It takes years of practice," the old man said. "You've got to develop your thumb in order to stretch it backward until it touches the wrist. And you have got to move your arm much faster so the stick won't have time to fall on the ground."
Octavio handed him back the cane. "We better get those dogs!" he exclaimed, surprised by the suddenness of the morning glow and the flame-colored blotches appearing on the eastern sky.
"Victor Julio, wait for me," a child called after them.
Barefoot, her black tangled hair tied on top of her head, a six-year-old girl caught up with the two men.
"Look what my aunt brought me to play with," she said, holding up a German shepherd puppy for the old man to see. "I named her Butterfly. She looks like one, doesn't she?"
Victor Julio sat on the curb. The little girl sat next to him and placed the cute, chubby puppy on his lap. Distractedly, he ran his fingers along the black and pale yellow fur.
"Show Butterfly how you make your walking stick dance," the child pleaded.
Victor Julio put the dog on the ground, and retrieved the bottle of rum from his pocket. Without drawing a breath, he emptied its contents, then dropped the bottle into his burlap sack.
There was a desolate expression in his eyes as he gazed into the child's smiling face. Soon she would grow up, he thought. She would no longer sit with him under the trees in the plaza and help him fill the trash cans with leaves, and believe they would turn to gold during the night.
He wondered if she, too, would shout at him, taunt him, like most of the older children did. He closed his eyes tightly.
"Let's see if the stick feels like dancing," he mumbled. Rubbing his creaking knees, he got up.
Mesmerized, both Octavio and the child watched the stick. It seemed to be dancing by itself, animated not only by the swift graceful movement of Victor Julio's arms but also by the rhythmic tapping of his foot and his hoarse, yet melodious, voice, as he sang a nursery rhyme.
Octavio put the drum down, and sat on it to admire the old man's skill.
Victor Julio stopped his song in mid-sentence. His stick fell on the ground. With a look of surprise and horror, he saw the puppy lapping up the juice of the poisoned meat, trickling from the drum.
The girl picked up the cane, caressed the finely carved head, and handed it to Victor Julio. "I've never seen you drop it," she remarked concerned. "Did the stick get tired?"
Victor Julio placed his trembling hand on her head, pulling her ponytail gently. "I'm going to take Butterfly for a walk," he said. "Go back to bed before your mother finds you out here. I'll see you later at the plaza. We'll pick leaves together."
He lifted the chubby puppy in his arms, and motioned Octavio to follow him up the street.
The stray dogs were no longer curled up in front of closed doors, but lay rigid with their legs extended, scattered around the dusty streets, their glassy eyes staring blankly into space.
One by one, Octavio tied them with the ropes Victor Julio had brought in his burlap sack.
Butterfly, her whole body shaking convulsively, sent a stream of blood down the old man's pants. He shook his head with despair. "What am I going to tell the kid?" he mumbled, fastening the poisoned puppy with the others.
They made two trips, and dragged the dead dogs to the outskirts of town, past the Lebanese's house, past the empty fields, down into a dried-up ravine.
Victor Julio covered them with a layer of dry branches, then doused the heap with the can of kerosene he had brought with him and set them afire. The dogs burned slowly, filling the air with the smell of scorched flesh and fur.
Panting, their throats raw with smoke and dust, the two men climbed out of the ravine. They didn't walk far before they collapsed under the shade of a blooming red acacia tree.
Victor Julio stretched out on the hard ground still cool from the night. His hands trembled as he held the walking stick securely over his stomach. He closed his eyes, and tried to still his breathing, hoping it would dispel the pain constricting his chest. He wished he could sleep, lose himself in dreams.
"I've got to get going," Octavio said after a short while. "I've got some other jobs to do."
"Stay with me," the old man begged. "I have to tell the kid about her dog."
He sat up and gazed imploringly at Octavio. "You can help me. Children so soon become afraid of me. She's one of the few who is friendly."
The wretched emptiness in Victor Julio's voice frightened Octavio. He leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the fear and the loss reflected in the old man's face.
"Come with me to the plaza. Let everyone know you're the new man," Victor Julio pleaded.
"I won't stay in this town," Octavio said gruffly. "I don't like this business of killing dogs."
"It's not a matter of liking or disliking it," Victor Julio remarked. "It's a matter of fate."
Victor Julio smiled wistfully and let his gaze wander in the town's direction. "Who knows, you might have to stay here forever," he mumbled, closing his eyes again.
The silence was broken by the sound of angry voices. Down the road came a group of boys led by the oldest son of the Lebanese. They stopped a few paces away from the two men.
"You killed my dog," the Lebanese boy hissed, then spat on the ground inches away from Victor Julio's feet.
Propping himself on his cane, the old man rose. "What makes you think it was me?" he asked, trying to gain time.
Victor Julio's hands shook uncontrollably as he searched for the bottle of rum in his sack. He stared at the empty bottle uncomprehendingly. He didn't remember having drunk the last drop.
"You killed the dog," the boys repeated in a chant. "You killed the dog." Cursing and jabbing him, they tried to grab his stick and his burlap sack.
Victor Julio backed away. Brandishing his cane, he swung it blindly at the jeering boys. "Leave me alone!" he screamed through trembling lips.
Momentarily startled by his rage, the boys stood still.
Suddenly, as if they had only just noticed that Victor Julio was not alone, they turned to Octavio.
"And who are you?" one of the boys yelled, looking from one man to the other, perhaps measuring the consequences of having to deal with both. "Are you with the old man? Are you his helper?"
Octavio didn't answer but swung the rope over his head, lashing it out in front of him like a whip.
Laughing and screaming, the boys dodged the well-aimed snaps. But when several of them were stung by the rope, not only on their calves and thighs but also on their shoulders and arms, they backed away.
They ran after Victor Julio, who, in the meantime, had fled toward the ravine, where the dogs were still burning.
Victor Julio turned his head. Terror dilated his pupils as he saw the boys approaching so close behind him.
They no longer seemed human: They reminded him of a pack of barking dogs. He tried to run faster, but the searing pain in his chest slowed him down.
The boys picked up pebbles and threw them at him, just teasing him. But when the Lebanese boy reached for a good-sized stone, the rest of the boys, eager to outdo each other, selected even larger rocks.
One of them hit Victor Julio on the head.
He staggered. His vision blurred. The ground under his feet gave way, and he tumbled down the precipice.
The wind carried the old man's cry out of the ravine.
Panting, their faces streaked with dust and sweat, the boys stood looking at each other. Then, as though someone had given a signal, they scurried in all directions.
Octavio ran down the steep slope, and knelt by Victor Julio's inert body. He shook him vigorously.
The old man opened his eyes. His breath came in spurts. His voice was only a faint muffled sound.
"I knew that the end was near, but I thought it was only the end of my job. It never occurred to me it was going to be this way."
His pupils flickered with an oddly bright gleam as he stared into his helper's eyes. Slowly, the light went out.
Octavio shook him frantically. "Jesus! He's dead!" he muttered, then made the sign of the cross.
He raised his sweaty face toward the sky. A pale moon was clearly visible despite the blinding brightness of the sun.
He wanted to pray but could not think of a single prayer. Only images came to his mind: a legion of dogs chasing the old man over the fields.
Octavio felt his hands grow cold and his body begin to tremble. He could run away again to another town, he thought. But then they might suspect him of having killed Victor Julio. He had better stay for a while, he decided, until things cleared up.
For a long time Octavio just kept staring at the dead man.
Then, on an impulse, he picked up Victor Julio's cane lying nearby. He caressed it and rubbed the finely carved head against his left cheek. He felt that it had always belonged to him. He wondered if he would ever be able to make the stick dance.