My Library

8. Contact Point The suspicion began where I thought I had a good perspective of the human experience. In retrospect, the whole thing may have been planned that way all along. I had been moving in and out of OOB situations very blithely and calmly, always sure that my guiding total self knew the answers, would take care of anything and any problem as they arose. It had worked perfectly to date, and perhaps that was why the slight scent of suspicion began to form. However great my ego might think I was, I knew I wasn’t that good. Thus entered again one of my many questionable characteristics. I can’t let a good thing alone and simply let it do; I have to find out why. In several succeeding OOB excursions, I tried to become aware of who was doing the driving and/or navigating. The contact was elusive in the beginning, no percept other than a gentle presence behind me, directing where I went. I turned around, but there was nothing—at the most a trace of a friendly presence. But it was there and it seemed definitely external. I went back through my notes, all the way to the beginning. I was astounded that I had ignored what was so apparent. A hand helping me get out, a hand on my arm, a response to my anguished screams, and the more subtle clues apparent from my new perspective. I had called them helpers at the time and let it go at that. At the minimum, I had not turned my activities over to my “greater self,” but to them, whoever “they” were. Thereafter, during active OOBEs, I tried many times to communicate with these presences, singular or plural, to no avail. Correction: I thought I received no reply because no words were forthcoming, only pictures, sensations, and action. The change came