Astral Travelling
Text and illustration by Alfred Ballabene
Translated by Corra
Contact:
Alfred.Ballabene@gmx.de
seth@explore-immersion.uk
corra@explore-immersion.uk
More information:
Table of Contents
1. Is Astral Travelling the same as Lucid Dreaming?
2. Basic Knowledge about Astral Travelling
2.1 Does Astral Travelling Affect Night's Sleep?
2.2 Perception, Emotions and Way of Thinking
2.3 Differences between OBEs close to and far from the Body
2.4 Commercialisation and Trivialisation
2.5 Deeper Sense of Astral Travelling
3. Examples for Verification
4. The Findings of Sleep Research
5. Methods to increase Lucidity
6. General Advices on OBEing
7. Spontaneous Astral Travelling
8. Astral Travelling after Etheric Loosening
9. Astral Travelling after False Awakening
10. Visual Methods (Projection)
11. Re-entering a Dream
12. Autohypnosis
13. Tunnel Method
13.1 How does a Tunnel Journey look like?
13.2 Tunnel Symbols in Dreams
13.3 Time Travels through a Tunnel
13.4 Holes as "Tunnels"
13.5 Some Reports of Tunnel Experiences
14. Becoming Lucid in an Environment where this has Happened Before
1. Is Astral Travelling the same as Lucid Dreaming?
My first astral travels occurred spontaneously during sleep, just as normal dreams. There was a difference to common dreams: I had the same awareness and consciousness as during the day. But the higher level of consciousness wasn't a criterion for me to consider this category of dreams – for I believed they were dreams – to be a glimpse of another truth. For me, they still were dreams, creations of my own subconscious and without any exterior reality. As I thought them to be mere products of my fantasy, I didn't feel bound to any kind of ethics or similar responsibilities.
A musical performance (Ballabene)
"I went through the streets of a city that could be described as quite ordinary. Therefore it didn't have the best impression on me. 'Well, I have the rare possibility to be aware in a dream, but I end up in a completely insignificant place', I thought disappointedly. I looked round in all directions, hoping to find some attraction which could make my dream more exciting. My search wasn't in vain, for I discovered a building close by which was especially big and splendid. I hurried to the building and when I stood in front of it I noticed that it was built in a magnificent way, but still without individual style and rather standard. This appearance seemed very fitting to some administrative building.
I entered the house. After I had passed an ostentatious staircase, I reached a hall which was filled with quite a lot of people. Since I am interested in people, I looked at them, one by one, in a very impersonal way and without sympathy – just critically, as the saying goes. I went on to a broad stairway and up to a mezzanine floor. Through a wide opened door I reached a lecture hall similar to those ones at the university. The rows of seats were higher towards the white, bare rear wall of the hall. As some people already sat in there, I sat down as well, curious about what was to come. After a short time someone came in, in ironed dress, and took position at the lecture table. With slightly ostentatious posturing, he made known to the audience how important he was. He deliberately let them wait for a while, and then took out a clarinet and started to play.
'How can a dream appearance play in such a showy way on a clarinet', I thought. 'Why does he need a clarinet at all? Since when does air exist in dreams, which needed to be blown through his clarinet to create notes? It would be possible just as well that he made the music with the power of his thoughts, without any clarinet. In reality, he is just pretending to play – dream figure that he is – and what I am hearing is actually a creation of my own imagination!'
Some people turned round and looked at me. The musician got slightly distracted and the tones turned into a disharmonious tune.
I kept thinking: 'Why is he showing off with his clarinet? I won't believe that he, my own dream creation, is playing something, because I am the real creator of this, through my own imaginative power. It's a bluff. This dream appearance is created by my brain, as are the sounds.' The musician began to peep chaotic tone sequences, contorting his body in a grotesque way. Obviously, everyone could hear my thoughts – which wasn't a surprise to me, for these people were products of my brain, just as my thoughts were. Now the people were looking more at me than at the musician. The musician, however, now tried to ignore me.
'If this product of my subconscious is showing off just for me, then he should let the clarinet float and play on its own! That would be interesting for a chance, and not just a simple copy of the real world.' The musician peeped, croaked and only played wrong and broken melodies now. Then he stopped and was a picture of despair. I wasn't moved in the slightest way. 'Well, he's not exactly a master, playing wrong notes. It's astonishing that he is performing at all in front of an audience and especially in front of me, his creator. Well, this dream phantom may do what it wants to, it will exist for only a few minutes anyway. Actually, I should feel sorry for it, as it is so short-lived.
Hey, look at this woman there, she uses red lipstick! That's funny! An anima that dolls herself up with lipstick. I wish I could tell this to C. G. Jung, we would laugh with delight.'
Suddenly, my thoughts stumbled. The music hall and the audience were gone within a moment and instead I was sitting in meditation position, in a plain and uninteresting landscape, in the middle of a dung heap. 'Ah, I see, some problem with my concentration', I thought. 'Well, I will overcome this. I simply have to imagine the hall again vividly, and soon I'll be back there again … It doesn't work!' Three men passed by on a way nearby, absorbed in contemplative conversation. They had very spiritual looking faces, but very cold as well. Interestingly, they wore green-black scale armours and black cloaks. 'Hey', I called. 'I fell out of concentration, could you maybe help me to return to my dream picture, with the music hall and this laughable musician?' The three men gave me an astonished and enquiring look, then they went on without even recognising me for just a split second.
Again, I concentrated on my imagination 'music hall', but without success. I still was sitting on that dung heap. As my attempts didn't work out, I took a bit of dry and strawy dung to form a kind of pillow, and sat onto it so as to be less disturbed by the stench. Now the concentration was very good again, but still without success. 'Kicked out by my own subconscious', I thought indignantly. With this thought I awoke, and I was annoyed about this occurrence throughout the whole morning."
Shortly after, I had another dream in which I was fully lucid:
"In dim light, I went along a dirty street. There I saw an unclothed man standing at the wayside, who looked as if great parts of his skin had been flayed alive. He looked at me with suffering in his eyes and asked me to soothe his pain. Obviously I had raised his hopes with my light-hearted behaviour. I felt flattered by his belief in me. He was right, of course. He was an appearance of a dream that was created by me. I could create and dissolve sceneries and forms. So why should I not be able to heal a dream appearance? With a bit of concentration and imagination, it had to be possible to work wonders in this inner world of images.
With this thought, and convinced of my omnipotence in my dreams, I went to him and declared that I had the power to heal him. I laid my hand on his shoulder and concentrated. Nothing happened. I made a second attempt – again without success. The man looked at me with painful disappointment."
The disappointed eyes of the wounded man haunted me for days. But I didn't understand why it wasn't possible for me to control the scenes in my lucid dreams. And there was another strange thing: when the man looked at me, I received an intensive wave of his feelings of disappointment. How could a mere dream appearance express such strong feelings?
There was another dream in which I tried to begin an erotic adventure with a woman – I thought I was only dreaming, so I took her for granted. But it never happened that I got wild, because a man in the dream waved to me, implying that I should come to the table where he was sitting. I got curious and sat down beside the man. He offered me a cup of coffee that smelled lovely and tasted very well. Then he suggested – without rebuke, but with firmness, that I should exercise more self control. Totally overrun by this situation, I apologized several times. Never before had someone talked to me in a dream, and I never would have believed that someone could reprimand me.
These incidents, especially the last one, occupied my thoughts and unsettled me. I began to doubt and reflected on what had happened. There was an uncertainty if these experiences only had been dreams and own creations, or if they had been journeys out of the body. I wanted to know the truth. So decided to stop with only wandering through the land and chatting with people in my dreams or astral travels – or whatever they were – but instead to talk consciously to the persons. There had
Impressum
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 07.10.2018
ISBN: 978-3-7438-8304-8
Alle Rechte vorbehalten