Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Through the Moon Gate

I have known since I was a very small boy in Australia that there are worlds beyond physical reality, and that we can journey to those worlds and gain first-hand knowledge of the multidimensional universe and about what actually happens after death.

When I was nine years old, I was woken up to these possibilities during a crisis of illness. I was rushed to hospital in Melbourne after complaining of a pain in my lower right abdomen. The medical staff found that my appendix was about to burst and I was wheeled into an operating room in short order for an emergency appendectomy.

Under anesthesia on the operating table, I found myself hovering above my body, somewhere up near the ceiling. I decided I didn’t want to watch the bloody work with the scalpel and flowed through the door and along the corridor to where my mother sat hunched and weeping. I couldn’t stand her pain, so I drifted off to a window, to the brightness outside, to the colors of spring and the laughter of young lovers seated at a sidewalk table, drinking each other’s smiles. I felt the pull of the ocean. I could not see the beach from the hospital window, so I floated through the glass and out onto a ledge where a blackbird squalled at me and shot straight up into the air. I followed the bird and sailed over the rooftops.

I saw a huge moon-round face, its mouth opened wide to form the gateway to Luna Park. I swooped down through the moon-gate – and plunged into darkness. I tried to reverse direction, but something sucked me downwards. It was like tumbling down a mineshaft, mile after mile beneath the surface of the earth.

I fell into a different world. It was hard to make out anything clearly in the smoke of a huge fire pit. A giant with skin the color of fine white ash lifted me high above the ground, singing. The people of this world welcomed me. They were tall and elongated and very pale, and did not look like anyone I had seen in my nine years in the surface world. They told me they had dreamed my coming, and raised me as their own. For the greater part of my schooling, I was required to dream – to dream alone, in an incubation cave, or to dream with others, lying in a cartwheel around the banked ashes of the fire in the council house.

Years passed. As I grew older, my recollection of my life in the surface world faded and flickered out. I became a father and grandfather, a teacher and elder. When my body was played out, the people placed it on a funeral pyre. As the smoke rose from the pyre, I traveled with it, looking for the path among the stars where the fires of the galaxies flow together like milk.

As I spiraled upward, I seemed to burst through the earth’s crust into a world of hot asphalt and cars and trams - and found myself shooting back into the body of a nine-year-old boy in a Melbourne hospital bed.

It was a little hard to discuss these experiences with the adults around me at that time, and we did not yet have Raymond Moody’s useful phrase “near-death experience” to describe an episode of this kind. One of the doctors said simply, “Robert died and came back” – with memories that made me quite certain of the existence of worlds beyond the obvious one, and of the fact that consciousness survives physical death.

There is great contemporary interest in the NDE in Western society, and this is a very healthy thing, because to know about the afterlife, we require first-hand experience, and need to be ready to update our geographies and itineraries frequently in the light of the latest reliable travel reports. In ancient and traditional cultures where there is a real practice of dying, near-death experiencers – who may be called shamans or initiates – have always been heard with the deepest attention and respect.

There is a Tibetan name for such a person, delog, pronounced “day-loak”. It means someone who has gone beyond death and returned. The famous Tibetan Book of the Dead, with its detailed account of the possible transits of spirit after death, emerged from the experiences of such travelers.

But to have first-hand knowledge of what lies beyond death, we do not have to go through the physical extremity of an NDE. We can learn through our dreams, the dreams in which we receive visitations from departed loved ones and others who are at home on the Other Side, and the dreams in which we travel beyond the body and into their realms.

Our dreams open portals into the multidimensional universe, including the places we may travel after physical death. As we become active dreamers, we come to realize that dreaming is not so much about sleeping as about waking up – to a deeper reality and a deeper meaning in life, and death.


Unknown said...

Hi Robert--

Beautiful post. As I read your experiences of being taken deep in the earth and living a full life with the tall and pale beings, it reminded me a bit of Dan's journey with Socrates in "Way of the Peaceful Warrior".

I've been reading your books for years now. I've been blessed (or cursed) with "big" dreams since I was eleven years old. So much of it I didn't understand-- at the time, being raised Catholic, I thought I was possessed.

After so much research, your books have helped me to understand the meaning of my dreams. Thank you for that.

I also have a question, which you don't have to answer, of course. I have been keeping a dream journal for several months now. I really enjoy it. The problem is I feel like I remember too much of my dreams. There is story line after story line, details, colors, smells, sensations-- after 4 or 5 lengthy dreams I tend to dread recording them, which sometimes takes over an hour. I've tried to do bullet points of the dreams and outlines, but how do I know what details to include and leave out?

Thanks again.


Dorothy said...

WOW, what a wonderful experience.
Off and on all through my life I have had a similar experience, but waking. I'd be walking along and suddenly for a few moments I'd be a different gender in different clothing in a very different place. Later in years I'd be driving along and wonder what this thing was I was driving. Good thing that one didn't last long. One day on a field trip for class, we were driving along a road in the Columbia Gorge and I saw outlines of trees in the cliffs that fringed the road. Instantly I was in an ancient forest high in a tree. I lived there for awhile quite happily. When I came back I was certain it had been hours at least, but it was only a few seconds. In these "travels" emotions, hot/cold etc. are felt the same as in this life. I do not believe or think, I KNOW it is just as real as here.

nina said...
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Defer said...

A great post! I enjoy your sober way of explaining the for many people extraordinary. It's good to know that more and more people are waking up to the reality of multi-dimensionality. It will make the Earth plane a better place altogether, which will be positive for all Cosmic Consciousness.

Allen Johnson said...
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