Unveiled

I’ve decided to share something that happened to me as a young child during the summer of 1963.

I know the experience happened repeatedly for some time, and then it simply stopped. My sister and I shared a bedroom on the second floor of our house. There were twin beds separated by a nightstand. Our parents slept downstairs.

One night, shortly after being sent to bed, I noticed a fine, granular gray mass emerging from the wall and floating through the room. For a brief moment, I thought the house was on fire. But for some reason my mind was put at ease. It looked like the static on a TV screen back when stations would go off the air late at night, but darker and three-dimensional. It undulated as it drifted across the room.

I asked my sister if she saw it, but she didn’t answer. I lay there watching the mass, feeling no fear. My sister seemed to be awake, but she wouldn’t or couldn’t speak or move. The mass drifted closer, stopping between our beds and completely obscuring my view of her.

I felt drawn to touch it. Again, I felt absolutely no fear. Finally, I reached out my hand. As I made contact, my hand seemed to dissolve into the mass, becoming part of it. I watched as my arm, then slowly the rest of my body dissolved as well. I became one with it. As this was happening, I felt as if I was shrinking down until I might disappear.

Even in that diminished state, I felt important and loved. I sensed the presence of many other beings, all the souls who had ever lived and all the souls who have yet to live. We were impossibly small, each of us. But together we felt like the most precious, beautiful, and the most loved thing in God’s universe. The mass floated back toward the wall from which it had emerged, and we left.

Everything became a blur. I remember seeing things that defy explanation; colors I could feel, structures and lights that could speak to me without words. I discovered we have many more senses than we know. Ones beyond our understanding.

The next thing I remember it was morning. I was wide awake in my bed; I had not fallen asleep. I knew something incredible had happened. I had seen things unlike anything I’d ever seen before, colors I couldn’t name, architecture beyond my ability to describe. I’ve never been able to fully recall what they were, only that they astounded me.

When my sister woke up, I began hammering her with questions. Wasn’t that amazing? What do you remember? Did you see anything? She looked at me like I was crazy. She told me to shut up, and she ran downstairs. I pulled my desk chair over to the wall where the mass first appeared. I climbed up to touch the wall where it had come into the house. I don’t know what I was expecting to find. Maybe some proof that it was real.

When I realized I was hungry, the boy in me returned, and I ran down the stairs to get a bowl of cereal. My mom and dad were up having their coffee while my sister sat at the table eating cereal. Right away, I told my parents what had happened.

My sister rolled her eyes and went into the living room to watch TV. My parents, shooting knowing glances at one another, smiled and said it was just a dream. My imagination. So, feeling a little shot down, I went about my day. I went outside to play with neighborhood kids. But deep down, I knew it was not a dream. About a week later, I got a reminder. It was a weekend. My sister was staying with our cousins. I went to bed alone. Sometime after midnight, I awoke and there it was again. Floating between the beds. My heart leapt.

I stood up, overcome with joy, and tried to embrace it – but I was repelled. I fell backward, confused and hurt. But then it communicated, without words, that joining it had to happen gradually, like before.

I reached out with just one finger. I began to shrink again, down to molecules, then atoms, then into something smaller. I dissolved into it. I witnessed a connection between souls who had lived and souls yet to come. It wasn’t physical, but it was real. The joy I felt was indescribable. If you blended the emotions of love, happiness, peace, and complete forgiveness together, you might begin to grasp it. I don’t know how I was able to communicate with so many souls all at once, but I did. There was no sense of age. I was somewhere where time and space meant nothing.

I remember thinking how could all of this exist inside of this mass? It was an awful lot to take in.

Then in a flash, we were gone again. I felt as though we went far outside the galaxy. But I don’t remember where. Only that we traveled exceedingly fast. And I saw those colors again. Colors I still remember but cannot fully describe. We don’t have the words to do so.

Just as before, without warning, I was back. Seated on the bed, facing the window. The sun had risen just enough to pop over the house. I could see the glints of light on the top branches of the oak tree in our backyard. I lay back down, trying to hold on to what I had felt. “Why me?” I thought. “I’m just a kid. What did I know?” Well, I knew something now.

Mom called me to breakfast. I didn’t move until Dad’s stern voice commanded me to get down there.

At breakfast, I told them it had happened again. Mom said, “Another dream like before?” Dad set his coffee on the table, crossed his arms, and gave me that, not again look. I insisted it was real. Mom got up and went to the closet where we kept our school supplies. She came back and handed me a piece of paper and a pencil. She wanted me to draw what I saw. I rolled my eyes at her. Did my mom actually think I could draw what I experienced? I tried my best. After all, Mom seemed to be the only ear I had. I drew a small cloud floating between two beds, filled with dots. I drew myself, a stick figure me, touching it. She kept that drawing for a long time. Eventually, it was lost. But I remember. And she listened. At least someone did.

Later that day, I walked over to Tommy Gall’s house. He was there on the porch with his toy soldiers. Americans, Germans, tanks, jeeps, all of it. We loved playing with those, coordinating battles which the Americans always won. I thought about telling him. But something inside told me not to. I was just old enough to worry he’d laugh, or worse, tell others. So, I kept it to myself.

I went on with my days as normal, but as nighttime approached, I couldn’t help but to think about it. I must’ve been the only kid who looked forward to bedtime. The nights that it didn’t happen depressed me. Pure joy would fill my heart when it did. The mass would only appear a few more times. Each time, the space between visits grew longer. Like ripples in a pond coming further and further apart, until nothing. Maybe that was its way of saying goodbye. After we moved from that house, it never happened again.

Years passed. I lived my life. But every night, as I lay down to sleep, I looked for it again. I still do.
Because hope… is eternal.

In 1984, my dad had congestive heart failure. He died briefly in an ambulance but was revived. After surgery, he lived another six years. I asked what he saw when he was gone. He said, “Oh, the colors, son. The colors.” And then he said, “I wasn’t afraid. There was so much love.” I couldn’t help but think back to my experience as a child. We would share that special bond until he passed away. Some happy day, I hope to go into more detail about it with him.

I am 70 years old as I write this. I’ve gathered many wonderful memories – and some painful ones. I’ve done things I’m extremely proud of and others that I’m so ashamed of. I suppose that’s what it means to be human.

I still don’t know what I experienced as a boy.

Was it spiritual? I believe it was.
Was it a series of near-death experiences? Perhaps.
Was it something else? Possibly.
Was it a dream?

I’ve dreamed many dreams. But this – this was not one of them.
While in that room with, and within the mass, I was more lucid than I’ve ever been. Even when we left the house, my mind may have blurred, but my soul was clear. I wish I could have comprehended more of what was happening then. But still, I was given great gifts.

I know there is more to life than what we experience on earth.
I will not fear shedding my earthly body, for with the Light there is no death.
I know what complete unconditional love feels like.

I will always treasure whatever it was that happened to me. I no longer care who knows or who laughs. I look forward to the adventure that is coming my way.

Because I know what I lived.
And I know that love is Divine.