Personally, I find it fabulous to have child entities in my home vibration. That they are disincarnate and therefore closer to a more divine nature allows them to attain certain abilities that, as a physical being myself, I cannot reproduce while within my own flesh. Although this might be the "way it is" in my waking life, I have found far more flexibility during various dream states to observe and experience what having various abilities can be like. This particular dream is an example of what I mean. Not only did it come with a heightened sensation as to what was going on, but I was also allowed to become as a child once again with a familiar sense of awe and intrigue.
I felt as if I were a teen aged boy standing in a small crowd of other children. All of us were in a densely wooded area with buildings having an "old west" motif nearby. Several of us were at the out skirts of the town, but I could see the wide dirt lane that lead to some simple wooden buildings with wooden porches, or decks, or walkways outside their front doors. Peter and a couple of other kids were showing me their "latest invention" which to me looked like nothing more than a plank of wood. It was only about three feet long and probably no more than a foot wide and an inch thick - by all accounts, to my perception, it was just a board.
I remember it was something for the kids to be proud of. This, I could tell by the manner in which they were showing it to me. While we all huddled around it, we passed it between each member of the group, looking at it and turning it over or around in our hands. I noticed a few other people beginning to gather around too. The attention we were giving this thing was drawing others around with an infectious curiosity. We handled it, holding it upright and turning it back and forth as if to inspect the board's edges, but to me, it simply, still looked like a plank.
One of my companions told me to place it on the ground and to stand on it. When I placed it on the dirt in front of me, I didn't give it much thought. The other bystanders stepped back and to either side of us, opening a space and also forming two groups of spectators. Again, I was coaxed to step upon the board, and while looking sideways at my spirit child, Peter, who was standing fairly close, I could also see that he was barely containing his anticipation. When I placed my foot on it, I felt a cushiony flex to it. I could tell that it wasn't actually sitting on the ground, but rather, floating in the space just barely above the ground. There couldn't have been more than a quarter inch between it and the surface at our feet. When I realized this, I was not only puzzled as to how it could float like this, but also thrilled to think of its possibilities for being like that.
I placed my other foot on the board, and at once, knew that the board was still not in actual contact with the ground. It hadn't even reacted to my mass being positioned on top of it. I crouched a little, as if I were a surfer, with one foot towards the front of the board and one to the back of it, but nothing resulted from this posture. Playfully, I even feigned the stereotypical "kowabunga" posture; semi-squatting, knees bent and arms hovering up and down out to either side, as if I was "shooting the tube" or surfing through the "pipeline". My audience chuckled at the comedy, but then I heard Peter proclaim, "You ain't seen nothing yet." Even at the sound of that, the thrill was quickly beginning to wane. Not much of anything else was happening while I stood on this floating board. It didn't move. It didn't bounce. And, I could step off or step on without incident.
Then, while standing sideways on the board for what was going to be my "last" time, I accidentally shifted my torso backwards while lifting the toes of my forward foot and dropping my "aft" shoulder ever so slightly. In this haphazard movement from what was my own "clumsiness", the board felt like it "squirted" forward, and my body reacted by throwing itself into an immediate state of imbalance - I fell backwards without "completing the fall", and without loosing the board beneath my feet! The board didn't even tilt its nose up, but I knew my mass was way off kilter from center.
In fact, when this happened, the board jolted and propelled itself forward while I still remained standing on top of it. It was then, that I finally realized what made it move - my own sense of imbalance.
The thing went rapidly forward while I remained in a posture of "falling backward" - even as my feet held firmly to the board. Anyone that remembers being on ice skates, a skate board, skis or a surf board for the first time, and the likely experience of having their feet and the object going out from under them as they fell backwards, might also remember the brief sensation of "weightless helplessness" while their feet were "too far away" to get back beneath their body once again. It was this precise sensation - that "incompleted" moment of falling backwards - that propelled me forward.
There was no "joint discomfort" in my knees, feet, or ankles. I didn't even feel my body in any stage of resistance. I simply felt a perpetual sensation that my feet were going out from beneath me - that my "mass" was behind its own center of balance. This "off-centered" fulcrum of my body was also enhancing the anticipation of an eventual bodily impact on the ground that never happened. Even as I remained in this contorted position with feet pronouncedly forward of my "back-leaning" torso, my connection to the board stayed firm. As it turned out, the more I fell (leaned) backward, the faster the sail board would go forward. And though the falling sensation could grow more or less intense depending on the placement of my body, I would never actually fall off the thing!
It became a challenge though, to find out how to stand up straighter against the pull of falling in order to slow down the momentum of the sail board. This accomplishment took a full and complete mental state of "pure will" - to lean forward with enough intensity against the constant "pull" of falling backward. But once I realized that some invisible force was holding me onto the board, I began to move with confidence. The next big trouble was in finding a way to steer the sail board. My hands held on to nothing; they only flailed out to my sides, which I'm certain brought to the spectators a fabulous sense of comedy as I went zipping around. Eventually, I figured out how to lean backwards to the right or left of my already "lost" sense of balance in order to steer the board, but again, totally against the senses. I had to lean away from the turns that I wanted to make - and not into them - as one might suppose. It was all so counter-intuitive, but it was also a thrill and a joy to "surf" the forest landscape with such enormous speed.
In fact, the thrill was so intense, that my heart while in physical sleep, had begun to palpitate so hard, that I was awakened from the dream. It felt as if I was experiencing an adrenaline rush that I had to calm down from before going back to sleep, and that was what marked the end of yet, another, "notable" experience with my spirit children.
I felt as if I were a teen aged boy standing in a small crowd of other children. All of us were in a densely wooded area with buildings having an "old west" motif nearby. Several of us were at the out skirts of the town, but I could see the wide dirt lane that lead to some simple wooden buildings with wooden porches, or decks, or walkways outside their front doors. Peter and a couple of other kids were showing me their "latest invention" which to me looked like nothing more than a plank of wood. It was only about three feet long and probably no more than a foot wide and an inch thick - by all accounts, to my perception, it was just a board.
I remember it was something for the kids to be proud of. This, I could tell by the manner in which they were showing it to me. While we all huddled around it, we passed it between each member of the group, looking at it and turning it over or around in our hands. I noticed a few other people beginning to gather around too. The attention we were giving this thing was drawing others around with an infectious curiosity. We handled it, holding it upright and turning it back and forth as if to inspect the board's edges, but to me, it simply, still looked like a plank.
One of my companions told me to place it on the ground and to stand on it. When I placed it on the dirt in front of me, I didn't give it much thought. The other bystanders stepped back and to either side of us, opening a space and also forming two groups of spectators. Again, I was coaxed to step upon the board, and while looking sideways at my spirit child, Peter, who was standing fairly close, I could also see that he was barely containing his anticipation. When I placed my foot on it, I felt a cushiony flex to it. I could tell that it wasn't actually sitting on the ground, but rather, floating in the space just barely above the ground. There couldn't have been more than a quarter inch between it and the surface at our feet. When I realized this, I was not only puzzled as to how it could float like this, but also thrilled to think of its possibilities for being like that.
I placed my other foot on the board, and at once, knew that the board was still not in actual contact with the ground. It hadn't even reacted to my mass being positioned on top of it. I crouched a little, as if I were a surfer, with one foot towards the front of the board and one to the back of it, but nothing resulted from this posture. Playfully, I even feigned the stereotypical "kowabunga" posture; semi-squatting, knees bent and arms hovering up and down out to either side, as if I was "shooting the tube" or surfing through the "pipeline". My audience chuckled at the comedy, but then I heard Peter proclaim, "You ain't seen nothing yet." Even at the sound of that, the thrill was quickly beginning to wane. Not much of anything else was happening while I stood on this floating board. It didn't move. It didn't bounce. And, I could step off or step on without incident.
Then, while standing sideways on the board for what was going to be my "last" time, I accidentally shifted my torso backwards while lifting the toes of my forward foot and dropping my "aft" shoulder ever so slightly. In this haphazard movement from what was my own "clumsiness", the board felt like it "squirted" forward, and my body reacted by throwing itself into an immediate state of imbalance - I fell backwards without "completing the fall", and without loosing the board beneath my feet! The board didn't even tilt its nose up, but I knew my mass was way off kilter from center.
In fact, when this happened, the board jolted and propelled itself forward while I still remained standing on top of it. It was then, that I finally realized what made it move - my own sense of imbalance.
The thing went rapidly forward while I remained in a posture of "falling backward" - even as my feet held firmly to the board. Anyone that remembers being on ice skates, a skate board, skis or a surf board for the first time, and the likely experience of having their feet and the object going out from under them as they fell backwards, might also remember the brief sensation of "weightless helplessness" while their feet were "too far away" to get back beneath their body once again. It was this precise sensation - that "incompleted" moment of falling backwards - that propelled me forward.
There was no "joint discomfort" in my knees, feet, or ankles. I didn't even feel my body in any stage of resistance. I simply felt a perpetual sensation that my feet were going out from beneath me - that my "mass" was behind its own center of balance. This "off-centered" fulcrum of my body was also enhancing the anticipation of an eventual bodily impact on the ground that never happened. Even as I remained in this contorted position with feet pronouncedly forward of my "back-leaning" torso, my connection to the board stayed firm. As it turned out, the more I fell (leaned) backward, the faster the sail board would go forward. And though the falling sensation could grow more or less intense depending on the placement of my body, I would never actually fall off the thing!
It became a challenge though, to find out how to stand up straighter against the pull of falling in order to slow down the momentum of the sail board. This accomplishment took a full and complete mental state of "pure will" - to lean forward with enough intensity against the constant "pull" of falling backward. But once I realized that some invisible force was holding me onto the board, I began to move with confidence. The next big trouble was in finding a way to steer the sail board. My hands held on to nothing; they only flailed out to my sides, which I'm certain brought to the spectators a fabulous sense of comedy as I went zipping around. Eventually, I figured out how to lean backwards to the right or left of my already "lost" sense of balance in order to steer the board, but again, totally against the senses. I had to lean away from the turns that I wanted to make - and not into them - as one might suppose. It was all so counter-intuitive, but it was also a thrill and a joy to "surf" the forest landscape with such enormous speed.
In fact, the thrill was so intense, that my heart while in physical sleep, had begun to palpitate so hard, that I was awakened from the dream. It felt as if I was experiencing an adrenaline rush that I had to calm down from before going back to sleep, and that was what marked the end of yet, another, "notable" experience with my spirit children.