dreamflyer.net HOME * Flying Dreams * New Ideas * Dream Explorer * Research History

Dream Explorer Front Page >>> Myths >>> Lucidity >>> Out-of-Body >>> Exploring >>> Lucid Telepathic >>> Mutual Lucid >>> Precognitive >>> Hypnogogia

 

Out-of-Body Dreaming

Out-of-Body in the Sleep State

The Astral Separation Sequence

Astral Separation Tricks

Out-of-Body in the Sleep State

From "Out-of-Body in the Dream State," The Lucid Dream Exchange, 9 (7/3/96), 16-17

An out-of-body experience, or "OBE," is an umbrella term that has been used to cover every sort of imaginal journey possible, no matter what the state of conscious. On one hand, it's been applied to the most esoteric experience of pure consciousness. On the other hand, I've heard it used to describe that simple shift when you take an observer's viewpoint in the full waking state. (I suppose that objective thinking is quite a "trip" if you normally perceive the world in a subjective manner!) It's been attached to such waking activities as visualization, meditation, reentry, remote viewing, hypnosis, past life regression, suggestion and autosuggestion, trance, automatic writing, speaking, singing and having a peak experience while running. You name it, it's an OBE.

Both personal reports and laboratory records indicate that people have what they call an "out-of-body experience" at many levels of consciousness. Only a few of them enter into the dreaming states.

Dreaming begins at the threshold of sleep and is characterized by a increasing loss of large muscle function and loss of such waking state sensations as sight, sound and the pressure of the body on the bed. It involves awareness, activity, feelings and image formation while sleeping.

I consider dreaming to be an "out-of-body experience" in the sense that consciousness shifts away from our standard waking focus. Whether any part of the self actually leaves the physical body is subject to endless debate. Resolution of that debate is not necessary to explore the subject.

The most necessary and valuable tool of exploration is lucidity. A second-hand memory of an OBE after waking from sleep is far less useful than first-hand involvement and observation. To be lucid means being aware that you are not in the standard waking state, but in an altered state of consciousness...like a dream.

Teaching OBE, 12/18/85

In the midst of a dream, I become lucid and realize that I'm located in an unknown room. "Oh, phooey! It's not my house!" I exclaim. I was hoping to experience an out-of-body projection in my own bedroom.

A young girl is in bed. She turns to look my direction. "You promised to teach me to fly," she says with disappointment in her voice. "I waited for you..."

"I didn't know until recently that it was an OBE that you were really talking about," I respond. "Come with me..." I take her by the hand.

As we rise into the air I sense some reluctance on her part. "Don't worry about your body," I reassure her. "It's still alive, see? You can feel it breathing." As we are suspended above it, she touches her body's chest with her astral hand.

"I brought a friend to stay behind and guard it," I say. Sure enough, there's another young woman hovering near her body.

As the two of us drift upward, I can't seem to straighten out my leg. When I wake, I find myself sleeping in the same crooked position.

A Sidestep from Waking Reality

While dreaming, I might go "out-of-body" whether I'm aware of the process or not. But becoming aware is worth the effort. It's given me great insight into the encounters that people report on the borderland of sleep.

As I move into sleep, my usual mind journey takes me on a slide through hypnogogia. I blank out in the interim between waking state and dream. So by the time the dream begins, it's hard to determine what level of consciousness I've reached...I have no reference.

However, if I hold onto awareness as I leave the waking state behind, I can move into a state that feels quite different from the usual non-lucid dream. It's also subjectively different from the standard lucid dream. Astral projection, as it is often called, occurs in a special arena of consciousness one sidestep from the waking state. It's a state of consciousness in which I seem to lie in my own bed.

The most important characteristic which distinguishes this state is a sense of tension or pressure. Sometimes I feel it as impending fear or dread, but mainly it's simply a sense of anticipation. I believe the tension seeks release in an out-of-body experience and attaining this state is a signal that I can use it to begin an astral separation sequence.

Secondly, there is often the realization of body paralysis. Many descriptions presume this always refers to the physical body, because, of course, the large muscles are inactive during REM dreaming. My experience is that if this state is a false awakening, I can mistakenly assume my astral body to be my physical body. Then paralysis is actually true for the astral component: it's my astral arms which won't move; my astral lips that won't cry out. When I really shift into physical reality, the "spell" of the false awakening is broken and I have access to physical movement once again.

Finally, other entities can be involved. They may be known or unknown persona or a great variety of non-human characters. This is a common location for meetings with what I call the "muggly ugglers": alien encounters, clinging "thought forms," and my incubus attack.

It can be very difficult to determine that the vivid, often fearful and extremely real encounters at this level of consciousness are not waking state events. If I am in the sidestep state and not aware of the fact, I could swear on any stack of holy writ that I am really awake. The truth is only known in retrospect. As I "click" into the waking state, I can say, oh yes, that was a false awakening and that is physical reality. But it takes continued practice to be able to distinguish the two by comparing their subtleties as close to the experience as possible. I doubt make that distinction after the passage of time and certainly not under Bud Hopkins' hypnosis!

False and Initial Awakening

In a false awakening, I consider myself awake in physical reality when actually I'm in an altered state. I may leave my bed to walk around the house. But I don't realize that I'm not doing this in my physical body.

An initial awakening is the lucid equivalent of a false awakening. Here I become or am aware this altered state is not waking reality. Thus I can continue the experience willingly or deliberately terminate it. (The term "initial awakening" was coined by dreamworker Linda Reneau.)

Lucid dreamers and light sleepers seem prone to false awakenings. Sleep labs are notorious for inducing them.

Teresa Comes Into the Room, 8/16/87

My eleven year old daughter Teresa comes into the bedroom seeking solace for insomnia or a nightmare. As usual, she heads for the lightest sleeper, her father, Manny (I'm much too cranky when I wake). Suddenly she isn't there. Did she crawl into bed, I wonder? I hadn't felt the bed shift. Then I realize I've had a false awakening.

At little later she comes into the bedroom again. Oh, this must be another dream, I surmise. Unless she moves the bed. I sense her hand press down the mattress. I feel the bed move. Ah, I'm awake, I think. But she fades again. Wrongo. I fall into deeper sleep and a lucid dream.

Problems of Other's Presumptions

For me, learning to go out-of-body was a perfect case of the problems that can arise when you try to conform to other people's presumptions. I assumed their personal accounts would be fact for me, instead of relying on my own natural unfolding.

From the few stories I'd read, I formed the following picture of astral projection. Projection would begin in the waking state. It would occur from the third eye or solar plexus as I lay on my back. Separation would be accompanied by rushing noises and vibrations. A predominant feature would be the "silver cord."

Only the first of these would prove to be true for me, but not for a while. I spent a fair amount of time on my back trying to go out-of-body just before I fell asleep, imagining myself up to the ceiling. It never worked. Pretty soon my back would start objecting and I'd flip over on my stomach, which is my usual sleeping position. And of course, I'd fall asleep.

I affirmed, imagined and wished for an out-of-body experience. By taking the proactive approach, there was definitely an improvement in my dream skills. Just not what I wanted. I managed to induce several lucid dreams instead.

These brief vignettes occurred as I was drifting in the borderland between the dream and waking states. Although I didn't know it at the time, they were the prelude to the astral separation sequence.

White Body, 11/7/82

I am lying on my bed, face down, asking mentally, "Where are you Willie? Help me fly."

I strain to lift my torso from the waist. My arms are extended straight out in front of me in a Superheroic flying position. It feels as though I am lying on top of another body which is thin, bony and weak. I can see its white, translucent arms. On my right, my husband Manny seems to awake. He stirs groggily and says, "Huh?"

Then I really awake. I find that I am sleeping on my front, but Manny is actually still asleep on my left.

Spanking, 11/13/82

A woman's hand reaches out and lightly slaps my rear end as I lie on the bed. "Ow! Why did she do that?" I wonder. I'm irritated and ashamed, until I wake.

Pinched Hand, 1/3/83

As I lie face down on my bed, I feel my hand being pinched. I think it's Willie. "Oh, no you don't," I tell her.

Someone seemed to be poking at my dream body, trying to wake me up to the astral state! Was it my recurring dream character, Willie? I didn't know. All I knew is that I was having false awakenings and sometimes I could become lucid to the fact.

These first experiences with sidestep reality actually occurred on my way out of the dream state, so I didn't recognize them for what they were. I was expecting that the sequence would begin as I moved from waking state into the dream.

Dream Projection, 8/21/83

Drifting off to sleep, I feel my hands crossed beneath me, tingling. Looking toward my left arm, I raise my hand and discover it is translucent: I can see right through it. "Astral projection," I think. Then, hoping to pull myself out of my body, I continue reaching up and back with my hand. In the process, I roll over in the voluptuous sheets and covers. I completely turn over and roll out of bed.

But standing up, I see that the rumpled bed is not my own. "Phooey," I think, "It's not my reality."

Behind the bed is a dark wall with a square pass-through or window. Thinking that the window is probably too small for me to go through, I try to enlarge it by pulling and stretching the edges. If the darkness beyond is the astral reality, I want to go there. The window doesn't stretch very far, though.

Suddenly the scene beyond changes from pitch black to blue-green. It's as if I am looking through rippling sea water. Beyond the water a woman stands, watching me.

When I awake, my hands are still crossed beneath me.

I was very disappointed to see that the bed in this sequence was not my own: the bedroom didn't look at all like mine. So, I discounted it as "just a dream" instead of a "real" out-of-body experience like the ones I had read about.

Lucid Dream Conversations about the Out-of-Body Experience

Because I thought that I was having trouble with astral projection, I had decided to take the problem directly to my dream characters. And since I could become lucid while dreaming, that meant a first-hand interview.

Group Meeting, 5/1/83

I become lucid and find myself in the rafters of a house. It's very dark up here, but there's a bright glow ahead, to the right and below. I hop-fly from one rafter to another, then jump down into a brilliantly lit white living room. Around the edges of the room, a group of people are seated. Next to the left-hand wall is an older man with a beard. "Will you help me with Out-of-Body Experience?" I ask him.

"I don't know where we are going," he replies.

We? I wonder briefly. "Well, why didn't you tell me?" I respond emphatically. "I'd be happy to provide that information!" He nods, head down, indicating yes, but later.

The group stands up and the people begin to move around. I walk toward the front of the room where it is a bit darker. A couple stands to my right. I ask the dark-haired male of the pair, "Where are we? Who are we?" He seems confused, can't remember, doesn't know.

I look through the large plate glass window behind him. Instead of an outdoor night time scene, the panorama looks like a marbleized painting of dark blue with orange streaks, set at a distance. It looks cold out there. At my left two men and a woman stand in front of the window, hugging one another. They whisper their names, but the sound is too soft to hear. To one of the men facing away from me, the woman tells her name, which starts with an "S."

"Is that your inner name?" I ask. Getting no response, I give up, since I probably wouldn't know them in waking life.

Scientific Attitude, 8/21/83

I'm in a room talking with an older woman who has short blonde or gray hair. "Am I ready for an OBE yet?" I ask her.

"No," she replies.

I sigh, feeling my shoulders raise and lower in dejection. "Why not?" I ask, feeling defeated. She tells me it has to do with my "scientific" attitude.

It certainly did! Following the scientific method, I was trying to duplicate the type of experience achieved by some of the men I'd read about. Instead, I needed to give credence to my own personal experience, which wasn't progressing like theirs. It took me awhile to understand why my experiences differed from their model. I had become a lucid dreamer, first.

Climbing and Bobbing Out of the Dream

Lucid dreams may be mundane, but they are well known to contain fantastic scenery, too. I loved flying through this land of symbolic imagination, but I knew that I wasn't dealing with the literal material world when I did so. To achieve the astral state, the state that mimed physical reality, I had to find my way out of the imaginal dream.

Bathroom Mirror, 9/8/83

I am standing in front of a bathroom sink, looking into a mirror. I see no face reflected but unlike my waking state hairdo, the hair in the mirror appears white with streaks, curly on top (four layers) with straight but bedraggled sides, as if windblown. I reach into the opened drawer on my right for a black and white rounded hairbrush. As I do, I confirm to myself, "I am lucid."

I start to lose focus and awaken, so concentrate to keep the dream going. The light fades and I am left in the dark. My feet rise behind me and my body feels as if it were stretched out on an air mattress, rippling on the waves. I like the sensation of weightlessness, but it is not enabling me to regain an image. So I concentrate on the feel of the brush bristles in my right hand and on the hard cold sink tile that I'm touching with my left.

I regain focus. The mirror is now slightly ajar. "Willie!" I call.

I decide to try for a projection through the mirror, thinking I might be able to go beyond this imaginary dreamscape to my astral bedroom. I say to myself, "Okay, kid, you can do it!"

I launch myself through the mirror but am stopped halfway through. I can see that the other side of the mirror is not my bedroom, but rather a small, dark attic room with a sloping roof and unfinished interior. I'm looking at an old overstuffed chair with clothing strewn over it and on the floor. I'm disappointed that I haven't found my way to a semi-waking reality.

I am leaning on a ledge of two by four's and plasterboard. My lower torso, in the bathroom, feels heavier than my upper torso. I say to myself, "Okay, you can make it!" as I try to pull myself into the next room. But the dream begins to dissolve. I fight to keep the dream state but wake.

When I awoke I thought, Aha! What if going through a mirror was my lucid dream's version of astral separation? What if being stopped by the mirror were the dream's symbolic equivalent of my astral body being "caught" halfway out of my physical body?

On 12/4/83, I had another lucid dream of going through glass. This time it was a window. Immediately afterwards, my focus switched to sidestep reality and I found myself flying around my bedroom in a pattern as rectangular as the room itself. I reasoned that in the astral state, I'd only be able to float or fly after projection. So I figured that I had separated from my body and achieved flight while still perceiving myself to be within the dream scene.

I woke slightly, then returned to lucid dreaming where I found myself facing another mirror. I decided to play with the imagery, sticking just my breasts in and out of the mirror. I wondered how that would look in the astral state. I'd never heard of boob-first projection!

Finally, I had my first fully realized astral separation experience.

Floating, 1/9/84

Drifting on the edge of sleep, I become aware that my right hand is inside my night stand, as if I've been reaching for something on the shelf. Inside my night stand? My hand is through the cabinet wall? It can't be my physical hand, I realize. Because I feel light, I think, if I try, maybe I can float.

I am aware that I'm in bed lying face down on the pillow. I close my mental eyes and try to go out-of-body in the dark. I listen for a rushing noise, but there is none. Nor are there any vibrations. There is a brief light flash, like I get when something presses against my retina.

It's my right eye that now feels jammed against the pillow. In contrast, the left eye socket has less pressure. So I try to push out the back of my head in that direction. I keep pushing and pushing with my astral head, not sure whether I'm actually going anywhere. While I concentrate on that sensation, I lose my sense of up and down.

When I open my dream eyes, I realize, to my complete surprise, that I'm floating upwards...on my back. Seems I've pushed myself in a full semi-circle. "I am astrally projecting!" I exclaim. I roll over on my left side and see vague images of shelves against the bedroom wall. Something is hindering my vision: the right eye. With my right thumb and forefinger, but I try to open my eyelid wider, but have little success. I feel close to the ceiling; I hope I don't bang my head.

Now I'm hovering in the darkness. Looking down, I see the wall behind the bed. The bedroom is as murky as it usually looks in the middle of the night, with the dim light of the distant street lamp coming through the window at the left of the bed. This window looks larger than normal, though. Below, I see a vague shape where my body would be. But the view of my husband Manny, lying on his back in his white underwear, is much clearer.

I suddenly find myself back in my physical body, awake. I turn to see Manny lying on his back, with his knees up. His lower torso is covered by the sheet and blanket.

Astral Diversion from the Physical Version

The astral bedroom in my dream was an intriguing diversion from the physical. I wondered, was I looking "through" the physical covers? Did that mean astral perception was like x-ray vision? If so, I could also see "through" my own physical body, as if it weren't there.

Thereafter, when I looked down at my body on the bed, it was, at best, a vague outline and sometimes nonexistent to my astral eyes. However, I could always see my husband's body. And the bed. Reluctantly, I came to the conclusion that I was, for the most part, seeing an astral bed with his astral body. Mine was with me, up on the ceiling.

The objects I'd see in our bedroom usually conformed to those in the waking state. The bedroom was a very close approximation of physical reality. But by paying strict attention, I could notice slight discrepancies, like that astral window being a bit larger than its physical counterpart. New windows could appear where there were none; the curtains might add a touch of yellow to their green fern pattern. And people would come and go in the night as if my bedroom were some sort of dream train depot. The scenery included extra designs produced by my prolific imagination. But what about the people? Were they my creations, too?

Again, because the astral version wasn't an exact replicate of waking reality, I thought I wasn't doing it right, that I wasn't having a "real" out-of-body experience. People who write books or speak in public often choose the most perfect examples to relate to their audience. This makes it hard on those of us who are trying to duplicate them.

Since then, I've had the good fortune to talk to many folks who regularly go out-of-body in the sleep state, including some well-known experients and authors. We were able to converse under circumstances where they weren't under pressure to perform and could afford to be accurate and truthful.

It was a relief to discover that my experiences were the norm. Even the most literal experients find that some of the elements they encounter in the out-of-body state (in or out of sleep) don't conform to physical reality. Even those who have spent time in the laboratory, highly motivated to verify that they clearly experience the physical world, report discrepancies.

At this point, when someone claims that they perceive physical reality (rather than a parallel astral version) when they travel out-of-body, I wonder if they pay much attention to their environment. There is a difference between those who simply assume that they have "clear" vision and those who take the time to put that assumption to the test. Not just once, but again and again. In my opinion, only the very aware and very experienced comprehend the subtleties of altered states.

The Astral Separation Sequence

From "Out-of-Body in the Dream State," The Lucid Dream Exchange, 9 (7/3/96), 16-17

The astral separation sequence is also called astral projection. It refers to the sensation of separating the astral body from the physical. Afterwards, the astral body may float upwards towards the ceiling.

To separate my astral body from the physical takes a unique combination of will power and release. Mental will creates the tension for separation, and relaxation allows the astral to drift through the physical body. This motion involves a feeling I can only describe as "sliding through grainy Jello." It's as if my astral body is a protoplasmic mass moving past suspended particles of sand at the rate of molasses pouring from a pitcher. The separation often concludes with a "popping" sensation, when the last bit of suction is finally released.

My body may feel heavy on the bed; however my sense of touch is far enough removed from the waking state so I do not feel the scratchy cover. In fact I probably don't perceive a blanket or clothing at all. Sometimes the felt perception is localized, like sensing my cheek pressed against the pillow. My eyes are closed and any images that do appear are inner vision. Initially there are either no images or very fuzzy ones.

I no longer hear the outside traffic or my husband's snoring. However, there is a blending effect that can occur as I move into this state, so that I pass directly from "outer" hearing to "inner" hearing without any perceived break. Sometimes I can "hear" sounds like the kids walking down the hall. The sounds are not necessarily related to an actual physical event, although they can be. I usually don't know for sure until after I return to the waking state and can compare notes.

I have entered this sidestep state on the way out of non-dreaming sleep, by way of a lucid or nonlucid dream, through fluctuating hypnogogic imagery and even via the waking state. Now I know that, no matter which direction I'm coming from, the sidestep state of consciousness is the same. This makes it a great signpost for astral traveling.

Usually by developing a "lightheaded" sense, or perhaps by imaginary rocking or spinning of the body image I hold in my mind, or simply spontaneously, I begin to feel as though some part of me is floating. Because I sleep on my stomach so often, I usually lift up head to torso backwards, first, then pull out entirely and rise to the ceiling. However, I've gone arms first, leg first, toes first, or emerged whole body. Because I take my time, I've rarely heard any rushing or vibratory sounds, either exiting or reentering the body. Neither have I experienced any electric discharges, sudden winds or the like (although I have in other states).

I usually float upward, but I have gone hand-over-hand up the bedroom wall. Even if I am "in the dark," I feel that I am in my bedroom. There is a sense of the tension I mentioned before, but this can be either intense or quite muted. I regain inner vision, either by opening my astral "eyes" or simply waiting for a scene to spring up.

Astral Separation Tricks

The Lucid Dream Exchange, 16 (2000), 3

1. In the waking state, I practice shifting attention away from the outside world to the inside universe. Reading a book when the TV is on and meditating in the midst of daily noise develops inner concentration naturally.

2. I find my most comfortable sleeping position and snuggle into soft sheets and blankets. I prepare to discipline my mind, not my body.

3. I imagine slowly, gently, gracefully, floating up to the ceiling as artful practice for astral separation. I expect to go out-of-body, if not now, then sometime soon.

4. While dreaming I pay attention to clues which indicate that my dreams are providing experiences parallel to those of the astral state. These are: going through obstructions (separating from the body), flying and floating (lifting above the bed); seeing myself in a mirror (looking back at my body). I celebrate those dreams and suggest to myself I have more.

5. When lucid, I become aware of the stance of my dream body and try to sense whether it is the same as my physical body. I compare those impressions to my actual position when I wake.

6. I try to reach the state of consciousness "underneath" the lucid dreamscape. I wipe out the bright dream environment by ordering it so, waving an arm, spinning or flying at excess speeds. The out-of-body state is likely to be the same level of brightness as my actual bedroom: if it's night, it'll be gray or dark.

7. Willfully or spontaneously I sometimes shift from a lucid dream to the out-of-body state. But even if I awaken instead, all is not lost. Attaining that state is easiest when drifting in the borderland between sleep and waking, refreshed from deep sleep but still physically and mentally relaxed.

8. I practice holding onto awareness while moving into sleep. I pay attention to a distant sound or to a spot imagined at a distance while willing my legs and arms into numbness. Lying atop my arms can help.

9. I imagine my physical body as heavy, dropping away from me, while my mind floats upwards.

10. I sometimes create a vortex or spinning sensation by rolling my eyes around in my head. Or I stand next to my bed, hold out my arms, turn round and round until I get dizzy, then fall onto the bed. Then I imagine turning over and rolling out of bed the opposite direction of the vortex's spin.

Dream Explorer Front Page >>> Myths >>> Lucidity >>> Out-of-Body >>> Exploring >>> Lucid Telepathic >>> Mutual Lucid >>> Precognitive >>> Hypnogogia

dreamflyer.net HOME * Flying Dreams * New Ideas * Dream Explorer * Research History

© 2001 Linda Lane Magallón * Version 9/10