Long before I really understood much about intuition or what might exist beyond what we can see, I remember wishing I could somehow get just a glimpse of the other side.
I was living in Greensboro at the time and was visiting a colleague at her home when our conversation turned to what we thought might happen after we die. I don’t remember everything we talked about, but I distinctly remember saying that I wished there were some way to see just a little bit of whatever might be there.
Maybe a year or two later, shortly after my grandfather passed away, I had an incredibly vivid experience while I was asleep.
I remember feeling as though someone took hold of me by the back of my ankle and gently pulled my spirit out of my body. As strange as that sounds, I wasn’t frightened at all. There was no struggle and no sense that anything was wrong. Somehow, I just seemed to know what was happening.
I remember looking down and seeing my body asleep in the bed. No one said anything to me or explained what was happening. I just knew.
I don’t remember everything that happened after that, but certain parts have stayed incredibly clear.
I remember seeing a beautiful blue sky filled with big, billowing clouds. There were openings in the clouds where sunlight was streaming through, but three circular openings were particularly distinct. Bright, clearly defined beams of sunlight came through them, with thinner beams breaking through in other places. It was incredibly bright and beautiful.
At some point, my surroundings changed and I found myself inside what I can only describe as a large, vertical cylinder. Everything was brownish and earth-toned, and the walls seemed to be made up of horizontal sections with triangular shapes, almost like a geometric abstract painting.
This is where I remember soaring. I moved around and around the inside of the cylinder in a circular motion, and I could feel warmth coming from somewhere below me. I didn’t see anyone else, but I somehow knew I wasn’t alone. I also knew there was nothing to be afraid of.
I don’t remember anyone speaking to me or explaining where I was. I was just there.
Eventually, I returned to my body, and what happened immediately afterward is part of the reason I’ve never thought of the whole experience as simply a dream.
Almost as soon as I was back, I found myself in a completely unrelated dream sequence. It was one of those typical dreams where you’re suddenly in the middle of some random situation with people and circumstances that have absolutely nothing to do with anything that came before it.
The difference was immediate.
What I had just experienced felt lucid. I was aware of myself and what was happening to me, even though I didn’t understand it. Everything seemed connected, and I knew I wasn’t alone. Then, suddenly, it was as if I had been dropped into a contrived story that made no sense. The setting had changed, the people had changed, and this time I was completely alone.
I remember recognizing the difference even while it was happening. Whatever I had just experienced felt different from the dream I was having now.
I still don’t know exactly what happened that night. I’ve wondered whether it was an out-of-body experience or some other state of consciousness. Maybe there’s an explanation for it that I don’t know. I’m not sure I need to decide exactly what it was.
What stays with me is how different it felt—and the fact that a year or two earlier, sitting in someone’s home talking about what might happen after we die, I had wished out loud that there were some way to get just a glimpse of the other side.
Sometimes I wonder if I did.
